As they stuck close to the trail, it was evident that, though hungry, they were on some business other than hunting.
“How much farther is it to this bear’s den?” growled Rip, who was beginning to weary of the journey.
“Only a little way now,” replied the fox. “Soon we will go up the mountain side a short distance, and then we are there.”
The old wolf made no reply to this, but trotted doggedly along after his companion. Wishing to turn Rip’s thoughts to less tiresome things than trails and distances, the little fox asked, “How did you learn that Kil-fang and his pack are returning to the Black Hills?”
“I have ears, haven’t I?” growled Rip. “When there is news of a kill abroad, I hear of it, and there will be good hunting for many of us when the pack comes down the north canyon. All animals will run over the hills to the broad valley to get out of the way of Kil-fang, and it is there I shall be before them.”
“I also will be there,” remarked the fox, and each of these brave hunters had visions of the great number of rabbits, squirrels, and small animals that would swarm over the hills and into the valley to the east, as the wolf pack came through the canyon that opened into the Black Hill region on the north.
“When does the pack come?” asked the fox.
“Yap-kii, the coyote, gave me the news,” replied Rip, “and he says the pack now numbers more than fifty, and that they will come into the Black Hills when the moon is again at the full. I have no liking for this Cho-gay, but I have less for the strutting Kil-fang, and I shall howl the death howl with great happiness if the Indian man-child kills him and drives his boastful pack again into the north.”
“It is not many days from now that the moon is at the full,” said the fox, “no more than a dozen, at most. Does anyone but Yap-kii and you know about the coming of the pack?”
“No one,” replied Rip, “for he does not dare to tell Fearful and his brothers, as they talk too much, and the rabbits and squirrels have sharp ears.”