All through that dark, primordial night, in which they were carried back, in effect, at least ten thousand years, they never relaxed the watch for a moment. Now and then they sent arrows into the dusk, sometimes missing and sometimes hitting, and the growling of the bears and wolves and the screaming of the great cats was almost continuous. The darkness seemed eternal, but at length, with infinite joy, they saw the first pale streak of dawn over the eastern mountains.
"Now the fierce animals will withdraw farther into the forest," said Roka. "Beyond the reach of our arrows they will be, but they will not depart wholly."
"Someone must go to the village for help," said Will, "help not only for us, but to take away two or three tons of this good meat. Why, the bull looks even bigger this morning than he did last night. One of my snowshoes is broken, but, if Pehansan will lend me his, I'll make the trip."
"You will not," said Roka. "Despite your skill with the bow and arrow you would be devoured before you had gone a mile. The fierce beasts would be in waiting for you and you would no longer have a ring of fire to protect you."
"Then what are we to do, Roka? We can't stay here forever within the ring of fire, living on steaks cut from the bull."
"Waditaka has become a great young warrior and he thinks much. Few as young as he is think as much as he does."
"I don't grasp your meaning, Roka."
"Perhaps it would be better to say that no one thinks of everything."
"I'm still astray."
"We'll call the people of the village to us."