“Where was that?” asked Wongo eagerly, as he got to his feet.
“On the cliffs above the aspen trees, on the south side of the first hill,” said Kaw.
Scarcely were the last words of the crow spoken before the little bear was speeding away toward the place where Kaw had seen the sheep.
“I have sharp eyes,” said Cho-gay, addressing the crow, “but how is it that you have eyes that can see hunger in the stomach of a bear?”
“Have you not learned that hunger makes all of us cross? It is only when our friend Wongo is very hungry that he is cross, and we do not have to see crossness. We sometimes hear it. Hunger will not take the anger away from Big-paw, the cat. If you feed him and give him more room he will soon lose his anger,” continued Kaw, “and it is because he is a captive, and not because of hunger, that he will learn to be honest.”
“Your words have the sound of wisdom,” said the Indian boy, rising, “and I shall see if they are not true.”
Going up to the flat rock that covered the entrance to the prison of the old mountain sheep, he rolled it to one side. A moment later the astonished sheep leaped out and dashed away up the side of the mountain. Kaw watched this performance with keenest interest. Passing on to the prison of the bobcat, Cho-gay picked up the buckskin rope with one hand and drew his knife from his belt with the other. Then pulling the flat stone from the mouth of the hole he gave the rope a sudden pull. The bobcat came tumbling out, and before it could regain its feet it was dragged to the former prison of the mountain sheep, too dazed to realize what had happened before it was in new quarters and the stone door lifted into place.
“Very quickly and neatly done,” said Kaw, in admiration. Then he added in a low tone to himself, “Our friend Wongo should have good hunting to-day, for if he should miss the old sheep on the cliff, he will surely get old Twisted-horns, who is making for the same place.”