"It sounds as if you were talking out of a book again, Tayoga, but I believe you're right."
"I think the only foes whom we may dread in the next night and day are four-footed."
"You mean the wolves?"
"Yes, Dagaeoga. When you left the body of the moose did they not appear?"
"They were fighting over it before I was out of sight. But they wouldn't dare to attack you and me."
"It is a strange thing, Dagaeoga, but whenever there is war in the woods among men the wolves grow numerous, powerful and bold. They know that when men turn their arms upon one another they are turned aside from the wolves. They hang upon the fringes of the bands and armies, and where the wounded are they learn to attack. I have noticed, too, since the great war began that we have here bigger and fiercer wolves than any we've ever known before, coming out of the vast wilderness of the far north."
"You mean the timber wolves, those monsters, five or six feet long, and almost as powerful and dangerous as a tiger or a lion?"
"So I do, Dagaeoga, and they will be abroad tonight, led by the body of your moose and the portion we have here. Tododaho, sitting on his star, has whispered to me that we are about to incur a great danger, one that we did not expect."
"You give me a creepy feeling, Tayoga. All this is weird and uncanny.
We've nothing to fear from wolves."
"A thousand times we might have nothing to fear from them, but one time we will, and this is the time. In a voice that I did not hear, but which I felt, Tododaho told me so, and I know."