In the morning A'tim had for his breakfast a wistful remembrance of the yesterday's eating—that was all; while Shag made a frugal meal off the bronzed grass, fast curing on its stem for the winter forage.
"There'll be good eating here for the Grass Feeders," he said, grinding leisurely at the wild hay.
"Indeed there will," answered the Dog-Wolf. "The Grass Feeders will wax fat for the benefit of the Meat Eaters. I wish one would come my way now," he sighed hungrily.
"We are almost half way," continued A'tim, as he trotted beside the long-striding Bull.
"I'm glad of that, Brother. My foot joints are not so well oiled as they once were, and are getting hot and dry. Strange that we should not see some of our cousins, is it not, Dog-Wolf?"
"I saw one yesterday," replied A'tim.