With the exception of the huge bulks of the skin-lodges, little could be seen save the flames of the fire, broken by the movements of intervening bodies, and the smoke rising slowly on the quiet air.

But to their nostrils came the myriad smells of an Indian camp, carrying a story that was largely incomprehensible to One Eye, but every detail of which the she-wolf knew.
She was strangely stirred, and sniffed and sniffed with an increasing delight.

But old One Eye was doubtful.

He betrayed his apprehension, and started tentatively to go.

She turned and touched his neck with her muzzle in a reassuring way, then regarded the camp again.