“If the rhyming talk was the kind he makes about me, I don’t think I missed much,” said the little bear crossly. Then, as he seated himself on the rock, he caught sight of the bobcat skin, and with eyes wide with wonder he exclaimed:
“Who is it that leaves his hide for another to use? Did you kill him in a fair fight, or in a trap? Was he—”
But the voice of Kaw broke in before the last question was finished:
“Did you? Was he? Oh what and who?
How very inquisitive are we.
Oh, we must know all about all that you do,
For we’re curious as curious can be.”
“Well, if that’s the kind of silly talk you were making before I came, I’m glad I did not hear it,” said Wongo.
“It’s too bad you can’t appreciate the work of a real poet,” said Kaw sadly, “but I suppose when one is hungry his judgment is affected.”
At a sudden noise, half bark and half whine, that came from a point a little above the cave’s entrance, Cho-gay rose, picked up a handful of the fat that had been scraped from the skin, and went up to a flat rock on the hillside. Moving the stone ever so little, he called out: