"One can see that he has been in captivity all his life," thought Karr,
but said nothing.
Karr left and did not return to the grove till long past midnight. By
that time he knew Grayskin would be awake and eating his breakfast.
"Of course you are doing right, Grayskin, in letting them take you
away," remarked Karr, who appeared now to be calm and satisfied. "You
will be a prisoner in a large park and will have no responsibilities. It
seems a pity that you must leave here without having seen the forest.
You know your ancestors have a saying that 'the elk are one with the
forest.' But you haven't even been in a forest!"
Grayskin glanced up from the clover which he stood munching.
"Indeed, I should love to see the forest, but how am I to get over the
fence?" he said with his usual apathy.
"Oh, that is difficult for one who has such short legs!" said Karr.
The elk glanced slyly at the dog, who jumped the fence many times a
day--little as he was.
He walked over to the fence, and with one spring he was on the other
side, without knowing how it happened.
Then Karr and Grayskin went into the forest. It was a beautiful
moonlight night in late summer; but in among the trees it was dark, and
the elk walked along slowly.
"Perhaps we had better turn back," said Karr. "You, who have never
before tramped the wild forest, might easily break your legs.
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