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Updated: June 9, 2025
In the morning A'tim had for his breakfast a wistful remembrance of the yesterday's eating that was all; while Shag made a frugal meal off the bronzed grass, fast curing on its stem for the winter forage. "There'll be good eating here for the Grass Feeders," he said, grinding leisurely at the wild hay. "Indeed there will," answered the Dog-Wolf.
Thinking perhaps that my rough coat was not so fine as it once was, I listened to the speech of this Dog-Wolf to the end that this blue-flowered herb will cause the soft, beautiful hair to grow again."
No fear of the fierce-cutting hoof thrust, such as Mooswa gave! And he was hungry. He looked at the Dog-Wolf with the eye of an epicure; what miserable eating his thin carcass would make. Much better this fight for a Buffalo. "We will charge," he said. "All at the Bull!" With short, gasping yelps the three Wolves and the Mongrel dashed at the Herd.
Daily the Dog-Wolf grew into the heart of Shag, the Buffalo, who listened with eager delight to his tales of the Northland. A'tim had fared well while the meat lasted; but they were now in a land of much hunger a land almost devoid of life; and the Dog-Wolf was coming again into the chronic state of his existence famine.
"Never mind, Comrades," interrupted Shag. "We are glad of your company, little Cow-Bird are we not, A'tim?" "Yes," answered the Dog-Wolf, licking his chops, and looking treacherously from the corner of his slit eyes at the Bird. "Where are you going, Great Bull?" asked the Cow-Bird, spreading his deep-brown wings mockingly, as though he would fly down on the Dog-Wolf's head. "To the Northland."
"He is chasing the reed-legged Antelope now; or, perhaps, even in his sleep, Camous pursues him with the many-breathed Fire-stick. Well, well, by my hump, but we all have our troubles; even this Dog-Wolf, who is not half my age, has lived into the hard winter of life."
Standing out from the blurred panorama of her gabble were little clear pictures an ideal home in the far South; a quickly repented marriage; an unhappy season, full of wrongs and abuse, and, of late, an inheritance of money that promised deliverance; its seizure and waste by the dog-wolf during a two months' absence, and his return in the midst of a scandalous carouse.
E-u-h-h! but I go lame from it still." Shag slipped a cud of sweet grass up his throat with a gurgling cough and chewed it reflectively, for he was of a slow turn of thought, not at all like the nimble-brained Dog-Wolf.
As his sure-footed nag forded the brown bog-stream, long-shanked birds rose silently from the pools, and he marked with emotion the spots his boyhood had known: the shallow where the dog-wolf so big that it had become a fable died biting, and the cliff whence the sea-eagle's nest had long bidden him defiance.
"No, friend Bull," answered the Dog-Wolf; "unwittingly enough I nearly caused you disaster the last time I fed at Man's expense. That time there was but one hunter; here are many, and they would slay you quick enough." This was all a lie; the Dog-Wolf had no such consideration for his Brother Outcast.
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