He restrained himself this morning.

The thrill of the hunt was in his blood.
While Otto saddled the horses Langdon made the bannock.

He had become an expert at what he called "wild-bread" baking, and his method possessed the double efficiency of saving both waste and time.
He opened one of the heavy canvas flour sacks, made a hollow in the flour with his two doubled fists, partly filled this hollow with a pint of water and half a cupful of caribou grease, added a tablespoonful of baking powder and a three-finger pinch of salt, and began to mix.

Inside of five minutes he had the bannock loaves in the big tin reflector, and half an hour later the sheep steaks were fried, the potatoes done, and the bannock baked to a golden brown.
The sun was just showing its face in the east when they trailed out of camp.

They rode across the valley, but walked up the slope, the horses following obediently in their footsteps.
It was not difficult to pick up Thor's trail.