h he was, he was an ominous figure to all the furtive eyes that
watched him, as he stood and bellowed from his bluff in the fading
sunset.

[Illustration: "BUT THEY DID NOT COME VERY NEAR."]

About this time it was that the young bull began to find the solitude
more populous. Since the voice of the bronze bell was hushed, the wild
creatures were no longer held aloof. Hitherto the red squirrels and
the indifferent, arrogant porcupines were the only animals he had
noticed. But now he saw an occasional slim and snaky mink at its
fishing; or a red fox stealing down upon the duck asleep in the lily
patch; or a weasel craftily trailing one of the brown hares which
had of a sudden grown so numerous. All these strange little beasts
excited his curiosity. At first he would sniff, and snort, and
approach to investigate, which would lead, of course, to an immediate
and discouraging disappearance. Only the fox was too haughty to
disappear. He would maintain a judicious distance, but otherwise
seemed to regard the inquisitive bull with utter unconcern. This
unconcern, together with the musky smell of the bush-tailed red
stranger, at last so aggravated the bull that he charged furiously
again and again. But the fox eluded him with mocking ease, till the
bull at last sulkily ignored him.

The bull's next important acquaintance was the lynx. He was lying
under a scarlet maple, chewing his cud, and lazily watching a rabbit
scratching its ears some dozen paces distant. Suddenly a soundless
gray shadow shot from a thicket and dropped upon the rabbit. There was
a squeak, a feeble scuffle; and then a big lynx, setting the claws of
one paw into the prey, turned with a snarl and eyed venomously the
still, dark form under the maple. This seemed like a challenge. With a
mixture of curiosity and indignation, the young bull got up, grunted,
pawed the earth once or twice by way of ceremony, and emerged to the
encounter. But the lynx had no stomach to meet the charge of that
sturdy front. He snatched up the rabbit in his jaws and bounded away
into the underbrush.

A few days later, as the bull again lay under the scarlet maple and
looked out contemplatively over his yellow autumn world, a large bear
lumbered past, taking his own well-beaten trail to the waterside. The
bull lurched to his feet, and stood on guard, for this was a
formidable-looking stranger. But the bear, fed fat with autumn
berries, was at peace with all the world. He gave the