Robert discharged a third arrow, but the fierce yelp following told him that he had inflicted only a wound.
He glanced instinctively at the Onondaga, fearing a reproof, but Tayoga merely said: "If one shoots many times one must miss sometimes." A fourth shot touched nothing, but the Onondaga had no rebuke, a fifth shot killed a wolf, a sixth did likewise, and Robert's pride returned.
The wolves drew off, to indulge in cannibalism again, and to consult with their leader, who carried the soul of a savage in his body.
Robert had sought in vain for a fair shot at the giant wolf.

He had caught one or two glimpses of him, but they were too fleeting for the flight of an arrow, and, despite all reason and logic, he found himself accepting Tayoga's theory that he was, in reality, a lost brother of Tandakora, marshaling forward his forces, but keeping himself secure.
After the snarling and yelping over the horrible repast, another silence followed in the bushes.
"Perhaps they've had enough and have gone away," said Robert, hazarding the hopeful guess a second time.
"No.

They will make a new attack.

They care nothing for those that have fallen.

Watch well, Dagaeoga, and keep your arrows ready." "I think I'll become a good bowman in time," said Robert lightly, to ease his feelings, "because I'm getting a lot of practice, and it seems that I'll have a lot more.