He had not been there for more than a week, had not in fact given the valley and its magnificent occupant more than a few minutes thought. But now, as he made his way down the steep incline into the canyon, he suddenly identified his vague discomfort as being related to guilt. How could he have forgotten so quickly and completely the thrill he had felt when, after days of quiet observation, he had realized that the deer had been aware of and accepted his presence. And now, after his week-long desertion, would he still be tolerated? Or would the valley be deserted, the deer gone forever? Increasing his pace, he slipped and slid down the last stretch of loose shale to the valley floor. There was no sign of the stag in the first small grove, nor in the clearing; but in the heavy stand of fir near the spring, James came suddenly upon him. Although he bounded to his feet at James’ approach, he stood his ground, his head held high, his delicate black muzzle twitching as he tested the air. Closer now than ever before, James could clearly see the caplike patch on his forehead and how the massive antlers, which had seemed only dark and heavy from a distance, were actually covered with what looked like gray-brown suede.
