“How inconvenient that they couldn’t talk,” exclaimed the Child, who had great faith in the virtue of explanations.

Uncle Andy rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

“I suppose,” he said, after a pause, “that the wild creatures do talk among themselves, more or less and after a fashion.  But, you see, such simple speech as the calf possessed was only what she had inherited, and that, of course, was cow language and naturally unintelligible to a moose.  However, babies learn easily, and it was not long before she and her new mother understood each other pretty well on most points of importance.

“There were wildcats and foxes and a pair of big, tuft-eared, wild-eyed lynxes living about the lake, and these all came creeping up one after another, under the cover of the thickets, to stare in amazement at the alien little one so tenderly mothered by the great cow moose.  They had seen calves, on the farms of the settlement, and they regarded this one not only with the greed of the hungry prowler, but with a particularly cruel hostility as one of the retainers of feared and hated Man.  But for all their anger they took care not to thrust themselves upon the attention of the moose.  They appreciated too well the fury of her mother wrath, the swiftness and deadliness of the stroke of her knife-edged forehooves.  They were not going to let their curiosity obscure their discretion, you may be sure, like some of the childish deer and antelope often do.”

“Why?” interrupted the Child eagerly, being all at once consumingly anxious to know what the deer and antelope were curious about.  But Uncle Andy paid no attention whatever.

“Then, one morning,” he continued, “two other moose cows came along up the lake shore, followed by their long-legged, shambling youngsters.  They stopped to discuss the condition of lily roots with their tall sister; but at the sight of her nursing and petting and mothering a calf—­a baby of the cattle tribe whom they despised and hated for its subservience to man and for living tamely behind fences, they became quite disagreeable.  They sniffed loudly and superciliously.  The calf, however, looking very small and neat and bright in her clean coat of fawn color beside the gaunt, awkward moose babies, was not in the least afraid of the disagreeable strangers.  She pranced up boldly to investigate them.

“They wouldn’t be investigated by the saucy little alien, and in a moment of folly one of them struck at her.  The foster mother had been watching their attitude with jealous eyes and rising wrath, and now her wrath exploded.  With a hoarse bleat she sprang upon the offender and sent her sprawling down the bank clean into the water.  Then she turned upon the other.  But this one, with quick discretion, was already trotting off hastily, followed by the two awkward youngsters.  The triumphant foster mother turned to the calf and anxiously smelled it all over to make sure it had not been hurt.  And the rash cow in the water, boiling with wrath, but afraid to risk a second encounter, picked herself up from among the lily pads and shambled off after her retreating party.