hat in the world there were many
things that were not afraid of him, and many things that would not run
away from him. He had lost his fearless and blatant contempt for winged
creatures; he had learned that the earth was not made for him alone,
and that to hold his small place on it he must fight as Maheegun and
the owls had fought. This was because in Miki's veins was the red
fighting blood of a long line of ancestors that reached back to the
wolves.

In Neewa the process of deduction was vastly different. His breed was
not the fighting breed, except as it fought among its own kind. It did
not make a habit of preying upon other beasts, and no other beast
preyed upon it. This was purely an accident of birth--the fact that no
other creature in all his wide domain was powerful enough, either alone
or in groups, to defeat a grown black bear in open battle. Therefore
Neewa learned nothing of fighting in the tragedy of Maheegun and the
owls. His profit, if any, was in a greater caution. And his chief
interest was in the fact that Maheegun and the two owls had not
devoured the young bull. His supper was still safe.

With his little round eyes on the alert for fresh trouble he kept
himself safely hidden while he watched Miki investigating the scene of
battle. From the body of the owl Miki went to Ahtik, and from Ahtik he
sniffed slowly over the trail which Maheegun had taken into the bush.
In the edge of the cover he found Mispoon. He did not go farther, but
returned to Neewa, who by this time had made up his mind that he could
safely come out into the open.

Fifty times that day Miki rushed to the defense of their meat. The
big-eyed, clucking moose-birds were most annoying. Next to them the
Canada jays were most persistent. Twice a little gray-coated ermine,
with eyes as red as garnets, came in to get his fill of blood. Miki was
at him so fiercely that he did not return a third time. By noon the
crows had got scent or sight of the carcass and were circling overhead,
waiting for Neewa and Miki to disappear. Later, they set up a raucous
protest from the tops of the trees in the edge of the forest.

That night the wolves did not return to the dip. Meat was too
plentiful, and those that were over their gorge were off on a fresh
kill far to the west. Once or twice Neewa and Miki heard their distant
cry.

Again through a star-filled radiant night they watched and listened,
and slept at times. In the soft gray dawn they went f