After this he increased his pace.
“Dawn,” he said presently, “is growing weak for she no longer steps out steadily. It is probable that she will die of her wounds and of her weariness, and it is better so. But I would like to speak with her before she dies, for she is little more than a child.”
Sunrise was very hungry, and being now sure of his quarry, he stopped to hunt, and when he had killed, he ate, but sparingly, drank deep, and slept for a few hours. He rose greatly refreshed, and taking a lump of meat with him, ran swiftly on into the night.
Toward morning he was aware that Dawn and the man were increasing their pace. But Dawn had begun to run very unsteadily, and in two places the trail showed where she had tripped and fallen.
“He knows that I am on his trail,” said Sunrise, “and his belly is cold with fear. Soon he will leave the woman and go on alone, but he will not get away. And it were better for him that he had not been born. I am minded to do things with him that have never been done to any man before.”
But it was not until noon that he came upon Dawn in the place where the man had deserted her. She called to him before he saw her, tho’ he already knew that she was near. And what she called to him was this:
“I fought against him, Sunrise—I fought against him.”
SHE SOBBED IN HIS ARMS