“No, it is a great pack, and they are very hungry.  In ten or fifteen minutes they will be stalking us again.  You must seek a shot at the giant leader, but it will be hard for you to get it because he will keep himself under cover, while he sends forth his warriors to meet your arrows.  Ah, he is great and cunning!  Now, I am more sure than ever that his body contains the soul of one of the most wicked of all warriors, perhaps that of a brother of Tandakora.  Yes, it must be a brother, the blood of Tandakora.”

“Then Tandakora’s brother would better beware.  My desire to slay him has increased, and if he’s incautious and I get good aim I think I can place an arrow so deep in him that the Ojibway’s wicked soul will have to seek another home.”

“Hear them growling and snarling in the bushes.  It is over their cannibalistic feast.  Soon they will have finished and then they will come back to us.”

The deadly stalking, more hideous than that carried on by men, because it was more unnatural, was resumed.  Robert discharged a third arrow, but the fierce yelp following told him that he had inflicted only a wound.  He glanced instinctively at the Onondaga, fearing a reproof, but Tayoga merely said: 

“If one shoots many times one must miss sometimes.”

A fourth shot touched nothing, but the Onondaga had no rebuke, a fifth shot killed a wolf, a sixth did likewise, and Robert’s pride returned.  The wolves drew off, to indulge in cannibalism again, and to consult with their leader, who carried the soul of a savage in his body.

Robert had sought in vain for a fair shot at the giant wolf.  He had caught one or two glimpses of him, but they were too fleeting for the flight of an arrow, and, despite all reason and logic, he found himself accepting Tayoga’s theory that he was, in reality, a lost brother of Tandakora, marshaling forward his forces, but keeping himself secure.  After the snarling and yelping over the horrible repast, another silence followed in the bushes.

“Perhaps they’ve had enough and have gone away,” said Robert, hazarding the hopeful guess a second time.

“No.  They will make a new attack.  They care nothing for those that have fallen.  Watch well, Dagaeoga, and keep your arrows ready.”

“I think I’ll become a good bowman in time,” said Robert lightly, to ease his feelings, “because I’m getting a lot of practice, and it seems that I’ll have a lot more.  Perhaps I need this rest, but, so far as my feelings are concerned, I wish the wolves would come on and make a final rush.  Their silence and invisibility are pretty hard on the nerves.”

He examined the bow carefully again, and put six arrows on the floor of the cave beside him, with the quiver just beyond them.  Tayoga sat immovable, his rifle across his knees, ready in the last emergency to use the bullet.  Thus more time passed in silence and without action.