Where Bram had dragged his meat there was a small circle worn by moccasin tracks, and here, too, were small bits of flesh, scattered about--the discarded remnants of Bram's own feast.
The snow told as clearly as a printed page what had happened after that.

Its story amazed Philip.

From somewhere Bram had produced a sledge, and on this sledge he had loaded what remained of the caribou meat.

From the marks in the snow Philip saw that it had been of the low ootapanask type, but that it was longer and broader than any sledge he had ever seen.

He did not have to guess at what had happened.
Everything was too clear for that.