Both boys stared in rigid silence.

The wolves were crowding around a spot in the snow half-way between the tamarack refuge and the scene of the recent feast.

The starved animals betrayed unusual excitement.

They had struck the pool of blood and red trail made by the dying moose! "What is it, Wabi ?" whispered Rod.
The Indian did not answer.

His black eyes gleamed with a new fire, his lips were parted in anxious anticipation, and he seemed hardly to breathe in his tense interest.