“This,” said Mr. Purdy, “looks hopeful.”

We followed the old road, examining every bare spot of earth for some evidence of the cow’s tracks, but without finding so much as a sign.  I was for pushing onward but Mr. Purdy insisted that this clump of woods was exactly such a place as a cow would like.  He developed such a capacity for argumentation and seemed so sure of what he was talking about that I yielded, and we entered the wood.

“We’ll part here,” he said:  “you keep over there about fifty yards and I’ll go straight ahead.  In that way we’ll cover the ground.  Keep a-shoutin’.”

So we started and I kept a-shoutin’.  He would answer from time to time:  “Hulloo hulloo!”

It was a wild and beautiful bit of forest.  The ground under the trees was thickly covered with enormous ferns or bracken, with here and there patches of light where the sun came through the foliage.  The low spots were filled with the coarse green verdure of skunk cabbage.  I was so sceptical about finding the cow in a wood where concealment was so easy that I confess I rather idled and enjoyed the surroundings.  Suddenly, however, I heard Mr. Purdy’s voice, with a new note in it: 

“Hulloo, hulloo——­”

“What luck?”

“Hulloo, hulloo——­”

“I’m coming—­” and I turned and ran as rapidly as I could through the trees, jumping over logs and dodging low branches, wondering what new thing my friend had discovered.  So I came to his side.

“Have you got trace of her?” I questioned eagerly.

“Sh!” he said, “over there.  Don’t you see her?”

“Where, where?”

He pointed, but for a moment I could see nothing but the trees and the bracken.  Then all at once, like the puzzle in a picture, I saw her plainly.  She was standing perfectly motionless, her head lowered, and in such a peculiar clump of bushes and ferns that she was all but indistinguishable.  It was wonderful, the perfection with which her instinct had led her to conceal herself.

All excitement, I started toward her at once.  But Mr. Purdy put his hand on my arm.

“Wait,” he said, “don’t frighten her.  She has her calf there.”

“No!” I exclaimed, for I could see nothing of it.

We went, cautiously, a few steps nearer.  She threw up her head and looked at us so wildly for a moment that I should hardly have known her for my cow.  She was, indeed, for the time being, a wild creature of the wood.  She made a low sound and advanced a step threateningly.

“Steady,” said Mr. Purdy, “this is her first calf.  Stop a minute and keep quiet.  She’ll soon get used to us.”

Moving to one side cautiously, we sat down on an old log.  The brown heifer paused, every muscle tense, her eyes literally blazing, We sat perfectly still.  After a minute or two she lowered her head, and with curious guttural sounds she began to lick her calf, which lay quite hidden in the bracken.