was above water. Then, plunging his head under to secure a mouthful of water-lily root, which the mother taught him to relish, he would drown his winged tormentors by the myriad.
To join them in this cool retreat one day came two big black moose bulls. At this season their new antlers—the old ones having been shed early in the preceding winter—had not yet begun to sprout, and so they looked very much like the cow, except for their greater bulk and height. At this time of year they had no thought of mating, and so there was no jealous rivalry between them; their attitude towards the comely cow was one ofgood-natured indifference. But the red calf, which seemed to belong to her, excited their keenest curiosity. They stood and eyed him intently for some moments, while he returned the formidable stare quite unabashed. Presently they strode up close to him, one on each side, and sniffed him over, with loud snortings, and harsh mumblings in their throats. Not quite liking these attentions, the red calf drew back a step or two. Apparently there was some disapproval in their mumblings; for suddenly the cow, with an angry grunt, ran at them, and shouldered the nearest bull aside without ceremony.
The two bulls, respecting the sacred rights of a mother, promptly gave way, and wandered off lazily down to the water to pull lily-roots. If a cow
