One of the Fire-Men was the wizened old hunter who limped.
We went on through the trees toward the caves--an excited and disorderly mob that drove before it to their holes all the small life of the forest, and that set the blue-jays screaming impudently.

Now that there was no immediate danger, Long-Lip waited for his grand-father, Marrow-Bone; and with the gap of a generation between them, the old fellow and the youth brought up our rear.
And so it was that Lop-Ear became a bachelor once more.

That night I slept with him in the old cave, and our old life of chumming began again.

The loss of his mate seemed to cause him no grief.

At least he showed no signs of it, nor of need for her.