He wanted to hear him grunt and squeal in his funny, companionable way; he wanted to hunt with him again, and play with him, and lie down beside him in a sunny spot and sleep.

Neewa, at last, was a necessary part of his world.
He set out.
And Neewa, far up the creek, still followed hopefully and yearningly over the trail of Miki.
Half way to the dip, in a small open meadow that was a glory of sun, they met.

There was no very great demonstration.

They stopped and looked at each other for a moment, as if to make sure that there was no mistake.

Neewa grunted.