He pricked up his ears a bit.

He whimpered softly, as if beseeching recognition and friendship of the one tiny creature that was near him in this dreadful hour of loneliness and fear.
Inch by inch he crawled out of his hiding-place.

At last his little round, furry head was out, and he looked about him.

The trail was clear, and he advanced toward the rock-rabbit.

With a shrill chatter the striped mite darted for its own stronghold, and Muskwa was alone again.
For a few moments he stood undecided, sniffing the air that was heavy with the scent of blood, of man, and of Thor; then he turned up the mountain.
He knew Thor had gone in that direction, and if little Muskwa possessed a mind and a soul they were filled with but one desire now--to overtake his big friend and protector.