"A Buffalo?" queried the Wolf incredulously. "I have heard of such in these forests, but I come from the North, and have never seen them—have we, Sons?"
"Never," they answered, closing in on A'tim.
"Even to-day I trailed one, and was on my way to ask you to the Kill, as is the way of the Wolf kind. I am no Dog, to kill and eat in secret."
"It's truly noble to feed your friends," declared the Wolf. He snapped viciously at A'tim's throat with fang-lined jaws. The Dog-Wolf jumped back nervously.
"Wait, Brothers," he pleaded; "you do not believe me, I see—let us go together, and if I do not show you this Buffalo, waiting for the Kill, then—"
"Yes, then—" sneered the Wolf; "if you fail to show us this Buffalo, then—" He grinned diabolically in A'tim's face.
"E-e-u-h, I know," exclaimed the Dog-Wolf, stepping down gingerly from the log. "You may keep close; I will show you that I have spoken no lie."
Together, one Wolf on either side of A'tim and one behind, they glided along his back trail till they came to the scene of his caustic farewell to Shag. Suddenly the Pack Leader stopped, buried his nose in a hoof hole and sniffed with discriminating intentness.
"If-if-if-fh-h! By my scent, 'tis not Mooswa—nor Caribou. What say you, sons? Perhaps it is the Buffalo of which the Lone Dog speaks. Phew-yi, hi! Another trail call. Here are two of these big-footed creatures, be they Buffalo, or what—you spoke of but one, Lone Dog; Wolves do not tackle a Herd."
"Only a silly Cow," answered A'tim. "She will flee at the first blood cry."