It may be that he thought it some sort of play.

In this instance, however, he did not regard Wapoos as he had looked on Umisk the beaver.

He knew that Wapoos made mighty fine eating, and after another moment or two of hesitation he darted upon his prey.
Wapoos, half gone already, made almost no struggle, and in the glow of the stars Baree finished him, and for half an hour afterward he feasted.
McTaggart had heard no sound, for the snare into which Wapoos had run his head was the one set farthest from his camp.

Beside the smoldering coals of his fire he sat with his back to a tree, smoking his black pipe and dreaming covetously of Nepeese, while Baree continued his night wandering.

Baree no longer had the desire to hunt.