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.
"As the summer deepened, however, the calf began to feel and act more
like a moose calf--to go silently and even to absorb some of her foster
mother's smell. The other moose began to get used to her, even quite
to tolerate her; and, the wild creatures generally ceased to regard her
as anything but a very unusual kind of moose. Of course, she _thought_
she _was_ a moose. She grew strong, sleek and nimble-footed on her
foster mother's abundant milk, and presently learned to browse on the
tender leaves and twigs of the fresh green shrubbery.
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