speculatively. Papayuchisew did not move a feather. But as Baree
advanced, a cautious step at a time, the bird's eyes grew bigger and
the feathers about his head ruffled up as if stirred by a puff of wind.
He came of a fighting family, this little Papayuchisew--a savage,
fearless, and killing family--and even Kazan would have taken note of
those ruffling feathers.

With a space of two feet between them, the pup and the owlet eyed each
other. In that moment, if Gray Wolf could have been there, she might
have said to Baree: "Use your legs--and run!" And Oohoomisew, the old
owl, might have said to Papayuchisew: "You little fool--use your wings
and fly!"

They did neither--and the fight began.

Papayuchisew started it, and with a single wild yelp Baree went back in
a heap, the owlet's beak fastened like a red-hot vise in the soft flesh
at the end of his nose. That one yelp of surprise and pain was Baree's
first and last cry in the fight. The wolf surged in him; rage and the
desire to kill possessed him. As Papayuchisew hung on, he made a
curious hissing sound; and as Baree rolled and gnashed his teeth and
fought to free himself from that amazing grip on his nose, fierce
little snarls rose out of his throat.

For fully a minute Baree had no use of his jaws. Then, by accident, he
wedged Papayuchisew in a crotch of a low ground shrub, and a bit of his
nose gave way. He might have run then, but instead of that he was back
at the owlet like a flash. Flop went Papayuchisew on his back, and
Baree buried his needlelike teeth in the bird's breast. It was like
trying to bite through a pillow, the feathers fangs, and just as they
were beginning to prick the owlet's skin, Papayuchisew--jabbing a
little blindly with a beak that snapped sharply every time it
closed--got him by the ear.

The pain of that hold was excruciating to Baree, and he made a more
desperate effort to get his teeth through his enemy's thick armor of
feathers. In the struggle they rolled under the low balsams to the edge
of the ravine through which ran the creek. Over the steep edge they
plunged, and as they rolled and bumped to the bottom, Baree loosed his
hold. Papayuchisew hung valiantly on, and when they reached the bottom
he still had his grip on Baree's ear.

Baree's nose was bleeding. His ear felt as if it were being pulled from
his head; and in this uncomfortable moment a newly awakened instinct
made Baby Papayuchisew discover his wings as a fighting a