again in a coil, with his mighty jaws
closed in the throat of Black-tip's cousin. His fangs met, he gave
one terrible shake of his massive neck and head, and when the dingo
fell from his jaws this time, two clear yards away, its throat was
open to the night air, and it had entered upon the sleep from which
there is no awakening.

Finn was bleeding now from a dozen notable wounds, but it was not
in nature that Black-tip single-handed should overcome him, and
Black-tip knew it. The big dingo ceased now to think of killing,
and concentrated his flagging energies solely upon two points--
getting away alive and putting up a fight which should not disgrace
him in Warrigal's watchful eyes. He achieved his end, partly by
virtue of his own pluck and dexterity, and partly because his smell
reminded Finn of Warrigal, and so softened the killing lust in the
Wolfhound.

Finn could handle the one dingo with great ease, even wounded as he
was, and, because of that smell, he had no particular desire to
kill. Indeed, he rolled Black-tip over once, and could have torn
the throat from him, but caught him by the loose skin and coat
instead and flung him aside with a ferocious, growling snarl, in
the tail-end of which there was a note which said plainly, "Begone,
while you may!"

And Black-tip, with life before him and desire in his heart where
Warrigal was concerned, was exceedingly glad of the chance to bound
off into the scrub with a long, fierce snarl, which he hoped would
place him well in Warrigal's esteem, though he was perfectly aware
that it could not deceive Finn.

Then, when it was quite clear that Black-tip had really gone,
having taken all the fight he could stand, Warrigal stepped forward
mincingly and fell to licking Finn's wounds, with strongly
approving tenderness and assiduity. Her mate had fought valiantly
and doughtily for Warrigal, and she was proud of him; proud, too,
of her own perspicacity and allurements in having drawn him to
herself. A savage creature was Warrigal and a brave and quite
relentless enemy, the marks of whose fangs more than one fighting
member of her race and more than one powerful kangaroo would carry
always. But she was very feminine with it all, and the remarks she
murmured to her great grey lord, while her solicitous tongue
smoothed down the edges of his wounds were sweetly flattering and
vastly stimulating to Finn's passion and his pride.

And then, when between the two busy tongues eve