“Why not?” Pic demanded. “You only slid down that hill and you are not hurt a bit. What brought you here?”
“Brought me?” Wulli shed his angel wings and opened his other eye. “I don’t know,” he replied. “My legs, I guess.”
“He must have followed us,” said the Mammoth, his surprise fast changing to joy as he realized that he was really looking upon the Woolly Rhinoceros. “It is wonderful that we three can be together again.”
“Four of us would be better,” Pic muttered sadly. On being thus reminded of Kutnar, Wulli assumed an air of the deepest gloom. He told of his affair with the Cave Beasts and how he had come upon the trail of the Hyena Man and the smell of blood.
“Whose blood?” groaned Pic. His face had become deadly pale.
“Kutnar’s,” Wulli replied. “Several drops were on the ground. A stone-stick lay near them.”
Pic’s knees trembled. He spread out his hands as though to save himself from falling. “Dead? I can’t believe it,” he said in a dazed sort of way. “Why should Gonch kill the boy? And yet—Agh, I am so afraid. We were closing in upon them and the miscreant may have murdered him to save himself. You saw nobody?”
“No,” answered Wulli.
“And there was not much blood?”