At noon, when he built a small fire to make tea and warm his bannock, he took the golden tress from his wallet and examined it even more closely than last night.

It might have come from a woman's head only yesterday, so bright and shimmery was it in the pale light of the midday sun.

He was amazed at the length and fineness of it, and the splendid texture of each hair.

Possibly there were half a hundred hairs, each of an equal and unbroken length.
He ate his dinner, and went on.

Three days of storm had covered utterly every trace of the trail made by Bram and his wolves.