"Not yet. Not yet," cautioned the Marvel-Worker. "We will wait, and will think of some way. Maybe we can push him off the high rocks—or else the god of the fire or the storm may help us. Let me use my magic—it has broken the bones of bigger men than Ru."
"Go, use your magic!" muttered the leader, fiercely. "But use it soon! No man can strike Grumgra and live! The air I breathe is not sweet while Ru stays alive!"
"But do not forget," resumed Zunzun, in soft, persuasive tones, "the Sparrow-Hearted has his wolf to fight for him. I do not know what bad spell he has worked over it, but we cannot go near him while it lives. Why did we not kill it long ago?"
"I will kill it now!" vowed Grumgra. "This very day it will taste my club!" And his words were punctuated by low throaty mutterings and a gnashing of teeth.
"Grumgra speaks great wisdom," the Marvel-Worker approved....
And that was all that Ru remained to hear. Fearful of detection, he slipped slyly away, and disappeared without a sound into a dense thicket.
All that day, while the tribe pursued its leisurely course through the forest, Ru watched cautiously for sign of some trap or ambush. But, somewhat to his surprise, he went his way unmolested. He did notice, however, that Grumgra seemed bent on keeping his promise with regard to Wuff; several times the chieftain approached the wolf with club dangerously poised. On each occasion Wuff showed his teeth and growled, yet seemed not unaware of his peril; he always managed to leap out of range of the descending club—and all that Grumgra succeeded in doing was to knock some holes in the earth, while Wuff, confronting him just out of reach, would derisively snarl and snarl.
Thus frustrated, Grumgra glowered with increasing fierceness as the hours went by; and the people, watching him at a distance, were secretly mirthful at his futile efforts.
But, except for the baffling of Grumgra, nothing happened all that day. It was not until late at night that the chieftain made his first determined effort at vengeance.
Long after Ru had fallen asleep, he awoke with a start. The night was clouded and starless; on both sides of him the camp-fires were smoldering to a crimson glow, and he could only dimly distinguish the huddled figures of the sleepers and hear their rhythmic breathing. All was as it should be—there was no sound or shadow to give alarm. Yet, for some reason, a shiver of fear shot through him. Without knowing why, he shuddered; and, as he did so, there came a low growl to his left—and he saw the two glowing eyes of Wuff. Vaguely he could make out the form of the wolf standing beside him, and as if by instinct he knew that the animal's hair was bristling.