Pierrot came back wildly, and the Willow pointed beyond him.
"I had him--and he didn't bite!" she said, breathing swiftly.

She still pointed to the end of the canyon, and she said again: "I had him--and he didn't bite me, Nootawe!" That was the wonder of it.

She had been reckless--and Baree had not bitten her! It was then, with her eyes shining at Pierrot, and the smile fading slowly from her lips, that she spoke softly the word "Baree," which in her tongue meant "the wild dog"-- a little brother of the wolf.
"Come," cried Pierrot, "or we will lose him!" Pierrot was confident.

The canyon had narrowed.

Baree could not get past them unseen.