On a still night a fox will sniff it a mile away--twice that far if the air is moving in the right direction.

It was this smell of bacon that came to Baree where he lay in his hollow on top of the beaver dam.
Since his experience in the canyon and the death of Wakayoo, he had not fared particularly well.

Caution had kept him near the pond, and he had lived almost entirely on crayfish.

This new aroma that came with the night wind roused his hunger.

But it was elusive: now he could smell it--the next instant it was gone.