was no longer more than foot deep anywhere on the levels, the tall bull, suddenly tiring of the charges whom he had so valiantly protected the winter through, strode off without so much as a grunt of farewell, and disappeared in the fir woods. The cow and her two-year-old daughter lingered on in the yard, food being abundant, for yet another couple of weeks. Then the cow, too, was seized with the wandering fever. And as she was not going to have a calf that spring,—having borne one for three seasons in succession,—she lazily permitted the anxious two-year-old to accompany her. Through the wet, earth-scented, swiftly greening world they wandered on, aimlessly, till they came to a little, secluded lake, with dense coverts and good browsing about its shores, and the promise of abundant water-lilies along its oozy brink. And here, well content with the comfortable solitude, they took up their dwelling for the summer.
