They are accustomed to death.

Twenty times in a winter, and sometimes more, I care for the dead.

They always go with me, and they can smell death in the wind.

But here--why, it is absurd! There is nothing dead here--unless it is that mouse, and Tavish's meat!" He shook himself, grumbling under his breath at Mukoki's folly.

And then: "The dogs have always acted queerly when Tavish was near," he added in a lower voice.