"Ditto."
The Boy turned his head sharply away from the fire. "Hear that?"
No need to ask. The Colonel had risen upright on his cramped legs, red eyes starting out of his head. The Boy got up, turned about in the direction of the hollow sound, and made one step away from the fire.
"You stay right where you are!" ordered the Colonel, quite in the old way.
"Hey?"
"That's a bird-song."
"Thought so."
"Mr. Wolf smelt the cookin'; want's the rest of the pack to know there's something queer up here on the hill." Then, as the Boy moved to one side in the dark: "What you lookin' for?"
"My gun."
"Mine's here."