That is, three hundred times a day his outer ear submitted to his inner ear some report of things a-doing, which same report was as often for many days disregarded as of no interest or value.

But this did not mean that he missed anything; the steady tramp, tramp of their feet, while it dulled all sounds for the hunter, seemed to have no effect on Skookum.

Again the raspy squeal of some far tree reached his inmost brain, and his hair rose as he stopped and gave a low "woof." The hunters held still; the wise ones always do, when a dog says "Stop!" They waited.

After a few minutes it came again--merely the long-drawn creak of a tree bough, wind-rubbed on its neighbour.
And yet, "Woof, woof, woof," said Skookum, and ran ahead.
"Come back, you little fool!" cried Rolf.
But Skookum had a mind of his own.

He trotted ahead, then stopped, paused, and sniffed at something in the snow.