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That bleat came from a young, white-tailed deer named Bob. Bob, with light brown, felt-like fur, was discussing the matter of going to Newmarket alone with his father. His father was sitting at the edge of the slowly flowing Lamprey River.
"There's is lots of clover, but it is a dangerous journey," said Bob's father.
"I know, but it will be fun," said Bob.
"All right," said Bob's dad. "But beware of hunters."
But Bob did not hear. |
