ht,
too; but the Cows! Ah, me! My poor people! Slaughtered, every one
of them; and so it will be again to-morrow--eh, A'tim? It's the
big Herd down in the good feeding they're after, I suppose."

"Yes," answered A'tim; "to-morrow the whole Blood tribe, and
Camous the Paleface, who is but a squaw man, living in their
lodges, will make the Run."

"I wish I could stampede the Buffalo to save them," sighed Shag;
"but my sides are sore from the insulting prods of the Spike
Horns. Not a Bull in the whole Herd, from Smooth Horns, who are
wise, down to Spike Horns, who are fools because of their youth,
but thinks it fair sport to drive at me if I go near. Surely I am
an Outcast--which seems to me a strange thing. When we come to
the knowledge age, having gained wisdom, we are driven forth."

"No; you'd only get into trouble," declared A'tim decisively.
"We, who are Brothers because of our condition, will watch this
Run from afar. To-morrow, for once in my life, I shall have a
full stomach."

"I am going back to the Buttes to sleep," declared Shag.

"I will go also," said A'tim; "while you rest, I, who sleep with
one eye open, after the manner of my Wolf Brothers, will watch."

In a little valley driven into the Buttes' side, where the grass
grew long because of deep snow in winter time, the big Buffalo
stopped, prospected the ground with his nose, flipped a sharp
stone from the couch with nimble lip, and knelt down gingerly,
for rheumatism had crept into his old bones; then with a tired
grunt of relaxation he rolled on his side, and blew a great
breath of sweet content through his nostrils.

"A good bed," quoth A'tim. "I will share it with you, Brother;
close against your stomach for warmth."

He took the three turns that had come to him of his Dog
heritage, and curled up contentedly against the great paunch of
the scarred Bull.

"I can't sleep for thinking of the big Kill," murmured Shag. "My
poor Brothers and Sisters, also some of my own children, are in
that Herd, though they, too, have disowned and driven me forth."

"There will be more sweet grass for your feeding when they are
gone, Shag," declared Dog-Wolf.

"Ah, there's plenty of eating, such as it is; though the grass on
the prairie looks short and dry and harsh, yet it is sweet in the
cud. To you, who are but a Dog-Wolf, the eating comes first in
your thought, but with us it is the dread of hunters, who keep us
ever on the move."

"I know of a land w