She turned again, and called: "Uchimoo--Uchimoo--Uchimoo!" Her eyes were no longer filled with the thrill of slaughter.
"He would not understand that," said Pierrot, leading the way across the open.

"He is wild--born of the wolves.

Perhaps he was of Koomo's lead bitch, who ran away to hunt with the packs last winter." "And he will die--" "Ayetun--yes, he will die." But Baree had no idea of dying.

He was too tough a youngster to be shocked to death by a bullet passing through the soft flesh of his foreleg.

That was what had happened.