WILD LIFE ON THE WING 
males of the previous season, as alike as the two 
kernels from one beech-nut. They hated one 
another only one degree less deeply than they 
hated Fionog-liat, but they followed him 
although they also feared him, because under 
his leadership they found food more surely than 
when they foraged alone. 
As the cold increased, neither fur nor feather 
was left on bog or mountain for the crows. 
They sought dead meat only as a last resource 
will the crow strike where the blood runs 
and in spite of the scores of lives which the 
cruel weather took daily in the wild, it was 
hard to come by. 
Thus when Fionog-liat saw a possible victim, 
it behoved him to go warily, and allow no 
chance to slip. A wounded pigeon at the 
woodside, or a limping rabbit on the mountain, 
was not pressed too hardly at first, but merely 
headed away from covert and kept moving. 
Then, as terror and exhaustion did their work, 
the rest of the band, summoned together by 
their leader's call, outflanked the game and 
harried it to and fro in the open until the time 
came for Fionog-liat to give the coup de grace. 
Sometimes such a victim was marked down and 
followed thus for days, and as a rule the crows' 
patience was rewarded ; but at other times the 
cripple recovered, or else the fox, or some other 
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