So he stood still and waited.

A minute passed; another; many; a long time; and still he waited, but got no further sign of life from the bush.

Then he began to think he was mistaken; yet it was good huntercraft to find out what that was.

He tried the wind several times, first by wetting his finger, which test said "southwest"; second, by tossing up some handfuls of dried grass, which said "yes, southwest, but veering southerly in this glade." So he knew he might crawl silently to the north side of that bush.

He looked to the priming of his gun and began a slow and stealthy stalk, selecting such openings as might be passed without effort or movement of bushes or likelihood of sound.