Free Bambi by Felix Salten

elders’ conversation. They said that His smell differed each time in a hundred subtle ways and yet you could tell it in an instant, for it was always exciting, unfathomable, mysterious and terrible.
    They told how He used only two legs to walk with and they spoke of the amazing strength of His two hands. Some of them did not know what hands were. But when it was explained, old Nettla said, “I don’t see anything so surprising in that. A squirrel can do everything you tell about just as well, and every little mouse can perform the same wonders.” She turned away her head disdainfully.
    â€œOh no,” cried the others, and they gave her to understand that those were not the same things at all. But old Nettla was not to be cowed. “What about the falcon?” she exclaimed. “And the buzzard? And the owl? They’ve got only two legs and when they want to catch something they simply stand on one leg and grab with the other. That’s much harder and He certainly can’t do that.”
    Old Nettla was not at all inclined to admire anything connected with Him. She hated Him with all her heart. “He is loathsome!” she said, and she stuck to that. Besides, nobody contradicted her, since nobody liked Him.
    But the talk grew more complicated when they told how He had a third hand, not two hands merely, but a third hand.
    â€œThat’s an old story,” Nettla said curtly. “I don’t believe it.”
    â€œIs that so?” Ronno broke in. “Then what did He shatter my leg with? Can you tell me that?”
    Old Nettla answered carelessly, “That’s your affair, my dear, He’s never shattered any of mine.”
    Aunt Ena said, “I’ve seen a good deal in my time, and I think there’s something in the story that He has a third hand.”
    â€œI agree with you,” young Karus said politely. “I have a friend, a crow . . .” He paused, embarrassed for a moment, and looked around at them, one after the other, as though he were afraid of being laughed at. But when he saw that they were listening attentively to him he went on. “This crow is unusually well informed, I must say that. Surprisingly well informed. And she says that He really has three hands, but not always. The third hand is the bad one, the crow says. It isn’t attached like the other two, but He carries it hanging over His shoulder. The crow says that she can always tell exactly when He, or anyone like Him, is going to be dangerous. If He comes without the third hand He isn’t dangerous.”
    Old Nettla laughed. “Your crow’s a blockhead, my dear Karus,” she said. “Tell her so for me. If she were as clever as she thinks she is, she’d know that He’s always dangerous, always.” But the others had different objections.
    Bambi’s mother said, “Some of Them aren’t dangerous; you can see that at a glance.”
    â€œIs that so?” old Nettla asked. “I suppose you stand still till They come up to you and wish you a good day?”
    Bambi’s mother answered gently. “Of course I don’t stand still; I run away.”
    And Faline broke in with, “You should always run away.” Everybody laughed.
    But when they talked about the third hand they became serious and fear grew on them gradually. For whatever it might be, a third hand or something else, it was terrible and they did not understand it. They only knew of it from others’ stories; few of them had ever seen it for themselves. He would stand still, far off, and never move. You couldn’t explain what He did or how it happened, but suddenly there would be a crash like thunder, fire would shoot out and far away from Him you would drop down dying with your breast torn open. They all sat bowed while they talked about Him, as though they felt the presence of some dark, unknown power controlling them.
    They listened curiously to the