Bambi (15 page)

“Don't think about it,” his mother said to comfort him, “he's old and queer.”

But at last Gobo meant to ease his mind. “All day long it keeps running through my head,” he said. “Poor thing! I'm not a poor thing. I'm very lucky. I've seen more and been through more than all the rest of you put together. I've seen more of the world and I know more about life than anyone in the forest. What do you think, Marena?”

“Yes,” she said, “no one can deny that.”

From then on Marena and Gobo were always together.

Chapter Eighteen

B
AMBI WENT TO LOOK FOR THE OLD stag. He roamed around all night long. He wandered till the sun rose and dawn found him on unbeaten trails without Faline.

He was still drawn to Faline at times. At times he loved her just as much as ever. Then he liked to roam about with her, to listen to her chatter, to browse with her on the meadow or at the edge of the thicket. But she no longer satisfied him completely.

Before, when he was with Faline, he hardly ever remembered his meetings with the old stag, and when he did it was only casually. Now he was looking for him and felt an inexplicable desire driving him to find him. He only thought of Faline between whiles. He could always be with her if he wanted to. He did not much care to stay with the others. Gobo or Aunt Ena he avoided when he could.

The words the old stag had let fall about Gobo kept ringing in Bambi's ears. They made a peculiarly deep impression on him. Gobo had affected him strangely from the very first day of his return. Bambi didn't know why, but there was something painful to him in Gobo's bearing. Bambi was ashamed of Gobo without knowing why. And he was afraid for him, again without knowing why. Whenever he was together with this harmless, vain, self-conscious and self-satisfied Gobo, the words kept running through his head, “Poor thing!” He couldn't get rid of them.

But one dark night when Bambi had again delighted the screech owl by assuring him how badly he was frightened, it suddenly occurred to him to ask, “Do you happen to know where the old stag is now?”

The screech owl answered in his cooing voice that he didn't have the least idea in the world. But Bambi perceived that he simply didn't want to tell.

“No,” he said, “I don't believe you, you're too clever. You know everything that's happening in the forest. You certainly must know where the old stag is hiding.”

The screech owl, who was all fluffed up, smoothed his feathers against his body and made himself small. “Of course I know,” he cooed still more softly, “but I oughtn't to tell you, I really oughtn't.”

Bambi began to plead. “I won't give you away,” he said. “How could I, when I respect you so much?”

The owl became a lovely, soft gray-brown ball again and rolled his big cunning eyes a little as he always did when he felt in a good humor. “So you really do respect me,” he asked, “and why, pray?”

Bambi did not hesitate. “Because you're so wise,” he said sincerely, “and so good-natured and friendly, besides. And because you're so clever at frightening people. It's so very clever to frighten people, so very, very clever. I wish I could do it, it would be a great help to me.”

The screech owl had sunk his bill into his downy breast and was happy.

“Well,” he said, “I know that the old stag would be glad to see you.”

“Do you really think so?” cried Bambi while his heart began to beat faster for joy.

“Yes, I'm sure of it,” the owl answered. “He'd be glad to see you, and I think I can venture to tell you where he is now.”

He laid his feathers close to his body and suddenly grew thin again.

“Do you know the deep ditch where the willows stand?”

Bambi nodded yes.

“Do you know the young oak thicket on the farther side?”

“No,” Bambi confessed, “I've never been on the farther side.”

“Well, listen carefully then,” the owl whispered. “There's an oak thicket on the far side. Go through that. Then there are bushes, hazel and silver poplar, thorn and shadbush. In the midst of them is an old uprooted beech. You'll have to hunt for it. It's not so easy to see it from your height as it is from the air. You'll find him under the trunk. But don't tell him I told you.”

“Under the trunk?” said Bambi.

“Yes,” the screech owl laughed, “there's a hollow in the ground there. The trunk lies right across it. And he sleeps under the trunk.”

“Thank you,” said Bambi sincerely. “I don't know if I can find it, but I'm very grateful anyhow.” He ran quickly away.

The screech owl flew noiselessly after him and began to hoot right beside him. “Oi, oi!” Bambi shrank together.

“Did I frighten you?” asked the owl.

“Yes,” he stammered, and that time he told the truth.

The owl cooed with satisfaction and said, “I only wanted to remind you again. Don't tell him I told you.”

“Of course not,” Bambi assured him and ran on.

When Bambi reached the ditch the old stag rose before him out of the pitch-black night so noiselessly and suddenly that Bambi drew back in terror.

“I'm no longer where you were going to look for me,” said the stag.

Bambi was silent.

“What is it you want?” asked the stag.

“Nothing,” Bambi stammered, “nothing, excuse me, nothing at all.”

After a while the old stag spoke, and his voice sounded gentle. “This isn't the first time you've been looking for me,” he said.

He waited. Bambi did not answer. The old stag went on, “Yesterday you passed close by me twice, and again this morning, very close.”

“Why,” said Bambi gathering courage, “why did you say that about Gobo?”

“Do you think that I was wrong?”

“No,” cried Bambi sorrowfully, “no, I feel that you were right.”

The old stag gave a barely perceptible nod and his eyes rested on Bambi more kindly than ever before.

“But why?” Bambi said, “I don't understand it.”

“It's enough that you feel it. You will understand it later,” the old stag said. “Goodbye.”

Chapter Nineteen

E
VERYBODY SOON SAW THAT GOBO had habits which seemed strange and suspicious to the rest of them. He slept at night when the others were awake. But in the daytime, when the rest of them were looking for places to sleep in, he was wide awake and went walking. When he felt like it he would even go out of the thicket without any hesitation and stand with perfect peace of mind in the bright sunshine on the meadow.

Bambi found it impossible to keep silent any ­longer. “Don't you ever think of the danger?” he asked.

“No,” Gobo said simply, “there isn't any for me.”

“You forget, my dear Bambi,” Gobo's mother broke in, “you forget that He's a friend of Gobo's. Gobo can take chances that the rest of you cannot take.” She was very proud.

Bambi did not say anything more.

One day Gobo said to him, “You know, it seems strange to me to eat when and where I like.”

Bambi did not understand. “Why is it strange, we all do it,” he said.

“Oh, you do,” said Gobo superiorly, “but I'm a little different. I'm accustomed to having my food brought to me or to being called when it's ready.”

Bambi stared pityingly at Gobo. He looked at Faline and Marena and Aunt Ena. But they were all smiling and admiring Gobo.

“I think it will be hard for you to get accustomed to the winter, Gobo,” Faline began; “we don't have hay or turnips or potatoes in the winter time.”

“That's true,” answered Gobo reflectively, “I hadn't thought about that yet. I can't even imagine how it would feel. It must be dreadful.”

Bambi said quietly, “It isn't dreadful. It's only hard.”

“Well,” Gobo declared grandly, “if it gets too hard for me I'll simply go back to Him. Why should I go hungry? There's no need for that.”

Bambi turned away without a word and walked off.

When Gobo was alone again with Marena he began to talk about Bambi. “He doesn't understand me,” he said. “Poor old Bambi thinks I'm still the silly little Gobo that I once was. He can never get used to the fact that I've become something unusual. Danger! . . . What does he mean by danger? He means well enough by me, but danger is something for him and the likes of him, not for me.”

Marena agreed with him. She loved him and Gobo loved her and they were both very happy.

“Well,” he said to her, “nobody understands me the way you do. But anyhow I can't complain. I'm respected and honored by everybody. But you understand me best of all. When I tell the others how good He is, they listen and they don't think I'm lying, but they stick to their opinion that He's dreadful.”

“I've always believed in Him,” said Marena dreamily.

“Really?” Gobo replied airily.

“Do you remember the day when they left you lying in the snow?” Marena went on. “I said that day that sometime He'd come to the forest to play with us.”

“No,” Gobo replied yawning, “I don't remember that.”

A few weeks passed, and one morning Bambi and Faline, Gobo and Marena were standing together again in the old familiar hazel thicket. Bambi and Faline were just returning from their wanderings, intending to look for their hiding place, when they met Gobo and Marena. Gobo was about to go out on the meadow.

“Stay with us instead,” said Bambi, “the sun will soon be rising and then nobody will go out in the open.”

“Nonsense,” said Gobo, scornfully, “if nobody else will go, I will.”

He went on, Marena following him.

Bambi and Faline had stopped. “Come along,” said Bambi angrily to Faline, “come along. Let him do what he pleases.”

They were going on, but suddenly the jay screamed loudly from the far side of the meadow. With a bound Bambi had turned and was running after Gobo. Right by the oak he caught up with him and Marena.

“Did you hear that?” he cried to him.

“What?” asked Gobo, puzzled.

Again the jay screamed on the far side of the meadow.

“Did you hear that?” Bambi repeated.

“No,” said Gobo calmly.

“That means danger,” Bambi persisted.

A magpie began to chatter loudly and, immediately after her, another and then a third. Then the jay screamed again and far overhead the crows gave warning.

Faline began to plead. “Don't go out there, Gobo! It's dangerous.”

Even Marena begged, “Stay here. Stay here today, beloved one. It's dangerous.”

Gobo stood there, smiling in his superior way. “Dangerous! dangerous! What has that to do with me?” he asked.

His pressing need gave Bambi an idea. “At least let Marena go first,” he said, “so we can find out . . .”

He hadn't finished before Marena had slipped out.

All three stood and looked at her. Bambi and Faline breathlessly, Gobo with obvious patience, as if to let the others enjoy their foolish whims.

They saw how Marena walked across the meadow step by step, with hesitant feet, her head up. She peered and snuffed in all directions. Suddenly she turned like a flash with one high bound and, as though a cyclone had struck her, rushed back into the thicket.

“It's He, He,” she whispered, her voice choking with terror. She was trembling in every limb. “I, I saw Him,” she stammered, “it's He. He's standing over by the alders.”

“Come,” cried Bambi, “come quickly.”

“Come,” Faline pleaded. And Marena, who could hardly speak, whispered, “Please come now, Gobo, please.”

But Gobo remained unmoved. “Run as much as you like,” he said, “I won't stop you. If He's there I want to talk with Him.”

Gobo could not be dissuaded.

They stood and watched how he went out. They stayed there, moved by his great confidence, while at the same time a terrible fear for him gripped them.

Gobo was standing boldly on the meadow looking around for the alders. Then he seemed to see them and to have discovered Him. Then the thunder crashed.