Her eyes and voice and hands had set something stirring in him; he was filled with a greater yearning and a greater loneliness now.

And that night he dreamed troubled dreams.
He found himself a bed under a spruce root not far from the beaver pond, and all through the night his sleep was filled with that restless dreaming--dreams of his mother, of Kazan, the old windfall, of Umlsk--and of Nepeese.

Once, when he awoke, he thought the spruce root was Gray Wolf; and when he found that she was not there, Pierrot and the Willow could have told what his crying meant if they had heard it.
Again and again he had visions of the thrilling happenings of that day.
He saw the flight of Wakayoo over the little meadow--he saw him die again.

He saw the glow of the Willow's eyes close to his own, heard her voice--so sweet and low that it seemed like strange music to him--and again he heard her terrible screams.
Baree was glad when the dawn came.

He did not seek for food, but went down to the pond.