l-but
victorious foe, he gathered himself together for a last supreme effort,
and the powerful sinews of those compressed hind legs did the work he
relied on them to do.

In spite of appearances to the contrary, he had deliberately allowed
himself to be pushed to the precipice. There was cunning in him, as well
as courage. The breadth between the eyes was beginning to tell. If Dusty
Star had been able to guess this, he might have been spared some, at
least, of the terror of the last few eventful moments. What he actually
saw was _this_--a violent movement throughout the whole of Kiopo's body;
a mighty upward urge that lifted his enemy clean off his feet; then, a
swift sideways wrench of his powerful neck and shoulders; and the heave
of a dark body over the precipice edge.

With a thrill of unutterable relief, Dusty Star realized that the body
which went crashing to its doom was not Kiopo's!

He sprang down from his rock, wild with exultant joy, Kiopo was safe!
Kiopo had won! The great fight was over, and Kiopo was the victor.

He rushed to the wolf, but in the very moment of throwing his arms about
him, stopped. For, in spite of his overwhelming delight, his wilderness
wisdom did not forsake him. He realized that Kiopo was too badly wounded
to be touched.

The wolf lay on his side, bleeding from a dozen wounds. He took his
breath in panting gasps that were almost sobs. It went to the boy's
heart to hear the struggle for air, for life itself; yet for the moment
he was helpless. If he had had a wound himself, he possessed sufficient
Indian medical knowledge to treat it with healing herbs and bind it up.
But with the wolf it was altogether different. Kiopo could not have
borne bandages, even if Dusty Star had had them to apply. The only
remedies possible were three: rest, Nature, and his own wolfish tongue.
This Dusty Star knew quite well. All he dared to do was to kneel on the
ground beside Kiopo while he gazed into his eyes, and made a murmuring
medicine-talk with his mouth. And it needed no explanation to tell the
wolf that all the love in the Little Brother's heart was flooding out
through his eyes and mouth. He could not have borne the Little Brother's
hand just then, tender though its touch would have been. But he was
grateful for the medicine-talk of the Little Brother's Mouth; and the
Little Brother's eyes comforted him: they seemed to lick him like
soothing tongues.

For the rest of that night, and far into