Black, also, blows himself out and glares fiercely at the enemy, while his tail whips restlessly to and fro. He is suddenly a cat of nine tails standing there! What is more, his body does not stand on all fours; only the two hind legs and the left forepaw bear its weight—his right forepaw is, as usual, slightly raised ready for his lightning spring!
Then his face twists sideways, and he intones the war-chant which he has inherited from his father: “Auw-auw-auw—o-o-o—ttt!”
Can he capture spoil by hanging back and hesitating? Can he gain meat by being afraid and running away?...
His thoughts drive him to frenzy!
He flies at the owl, and transfixes one of its ears. He attacks again—and the flying cat decides that things are getting too warm. It swings itself up to a branch and begins also to wail its war-cry:
“Auw-auw-auw....”
“Oo-oo-hoo-oo....”
“Tt-ttt....”
During the pauses Black devours the best parts of the hare.