They heard not even the howl of a dog, and surely Tavish had dogs.

He was on the point of speaking, of asking the Missioner why Tavish, haunted by fear, should bury himself in a place like this, when the lead-dog suddenly stopped and a low, lingering whine drifted back to them.

David had never heard anything like that whine.

It swept through the line of dogs, from throat to throat, and the beasts stood stiff-legged and stark in their traces, staring with eight pairs of restlessly blazing eyes into the wall of darkness ahead.

The Cree had turned, but the sharp command on his lips had frozen there.