For we’ll lose it
And confuse it,
If we meet!”
“Oh, hush!” shouted Wongo. “You make my head buzz. What are you talking about?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” answered Kaw. “If the smell should meet us, which would be the meat? That’s what I want to know—meet bear or bear meat—I can’t see much difference—” But he got no further. He had been flying from tree to tree, giving Wongo plenty of time to follow on his rather wabbly legs, and now there was no doubt but that they had come to the place to which he had referred, and Wongo paid no further attention to Kaw for a time. The little bear wondered, as he ate, why the other animals had not found the meat, for, as Kaw had said, the smell was certainly plain and strong. He found a fairly good supply of mountain sheep in the cache, but where old Chac had killed it he could not imagine. It was good, though, and he was thankful to have his stomach again filled.
When he had eaten until he was satisfied and had carefully hidden what remained of the meat, Wongo turned gratefully to his old friend, who sat preening his feathers on a near-by cottonwood tree.
“Now I am ready to listen to what it was you were going to say awhile ago,” he said. “What about Cho-gay?”
Kaw did not answer for a moment, but continued his cleaning operations. Presently, with a final shake, he settled himself on his limb and looked down at Wongo.
“Have you anything particular to do this morning?” he asked, as if in idle questioning.
“What about Cho-gay?” Wongo asked again. “You had something to tell me about him.”