He might have run then, but instead of that he was back at the owlet like a flash.

Flop went Papayuchisew on his back, and Baree buried his needlelike teeth in the bird's breast.

It was like trying to bite through a pillow, the feathers fangs, and just as they were beginning to prick the owlet's skin, Papayuchisew--jabbing a little blindly with a beak that snapped sharply every time it closed--got him by the ear.
The pain of that hold was excruciating to Baree, and he made a more desperate effort to get his teeth through his enemy's thick armor of feathers.

In the struggle they rolled under the low balsams to the edge of the ravine through which ran the creek.

Over the steep edge they plunged, and as they rolled and bumped to the bottom, Baree loosed his hold.