The big black dog had put his nose high in the air and had sniffed at the cold wind.
"Well, Tige, old fellow, what is it ?" said Jonathan Zane, for this was he.
The dog answered with a low whine.

Jonathan looked up and down the creek valley and along the hillside, but he saw no living thing.
Snow, snow everywhere, its white monotony relieved here and there by a black tree trunk.

Tige sniffed again and then growled.

Turning his ear to the breeze Jonathan heard faint yelps from far over the hilltop.

He dropped his axe and the traps and ran the remaining short distance up the hill.