There
was one night that year when two elk fought in the moonlight, while the
Swift One and I watched from the trees; and we saw a lion and lioness
crawl up to them unheeded, and kill them as they fought.

There is no telling how long we might have lived in the Swift One's
tree-shelter. But one day, while we were away, the tree was struck
by lightning. Great limbs were riven, and the nest was demolished. I
started to rebuild, but the Swift One would have nothing to do with it.
As I was to learn, she was greatly afraid of lightning, and I could not
persuade her back into the tree. So it came about, our honeymoon over,
that we went to the caves to live. As Lop-Ear had evicted me from the
cave when he got married, I now evicted him; and the Swift One and I
settled down in it, while he slept at night in the connecting passage of
the double cave.

And with our coming to live with the horde came trouble. Red-Eye had had
I don't know how many wives since the Singing One. She had gone the way
of the rest. At present he had a little, soft, spiritless thing that
whimpered and wept all the time, whether he beat her or not; and her
passing was a question of very little time. Before she passed, even,
Red-Eye set his eyes on the Swift One; and when she passed, the
persecution of the Swift One began.

Well for her that she was the Swift One, that she had that amazing
aptitude for swift flight through the trees. She needed all her wisdom
and daring in order to keep out of the clutches of Red-Eye. I could not
help her. He was so powerful a monster that he could have torn me limb
from limb. As it was, to my death I carried an injured shoulder
that ached and went lame in rainy weather and that was a mark of his
handiwork.

The Swift One was sick at the time I received this injury. It must
have been a touch of the malaria from which we sometimes suffered;
but whatever it was, it made her dull and heavy. She did not have the
accustomed spring to her muscles, and was indeed in poor shape for
flight when Red-Eye cornered her near the lair of the wild dogs, several
miles south from the caves. Usually, she would have circled around
him, beaten him in the straight-away, and gained the protection of our
small-mouthed cave. But she could not circle him. She was too dull and
slow. Each time he headed her off, until she gave over the attempt and
devoted her energies wholly to keeping out of his clutches.

Had she not been sick it would have be