“A wonderful place,” the Lioness was saying. “None but an eagle would presume to choose a home so high above the valley.”
“None but me you mean, my dear,” Grun Waugh gently but firmly corrected.
“Yes, none but you, of course,” the Lioness replied. “Is the cave unoccupied?”
“Hagh-gh-h!” Grun Waugh turned his head away and licked his singed whiskers. “That miserable Ape Boy I told you of, has taken to coming here. Between the two of us—you and I—we should now be able to keep him and his little hot beast away.”
“We might choose another home,” said the Lioness; “one that requires less climbing. There is Sha Pell—a charming cave and empty too or at least it was when I last passed that way.”
“Full now,” the Wolf humbly ventured to remark. “A man has just moved in—a man blind in one eye. He looked sick to me.”
“A sick man you say—and blind?” the Hyena asked. “That interests me. There was a blind man, leader of the Ape Men whom I have often seen while waiting around their camp for scraps of meat and other good things. I remember him well. He was old. He had grey hair. I had hoped soon to know him better. And so he is sick. If my lord will excuse me, I will now take my humble leave and pay my respects to this man who lives alone in Sha Pell and who is old, sick and blind in one eye.”
He was slinking away when Grun Waugh stopped him.