No matter how slight the movement of the air may be, one side of the finger dries first, in an instant, and is warm, while the side that remains damp is cold, and in the lee, that side toward which the wind is blowing.
"The wind is wrong, dead wrong," said Wabi.

"It's blowing straight toward them.

Unless we are so high that our scent goes above them they won't come much nearer." Another minute and Rod nudged Wabigoon.
"They're within range!" "Yes, but we won't shoot.

We don't need meat." As the young Indian spoke the cow brought herself to a dead stop so suddenly that Wabi gave a delighted grunt.
"Great!" he whispered.

"She's caught a whiff of us, a quarter of a mile away.