"White snow-flakes, or snow-buntings," he whispered back. "Mighty good eating."
Creeping quietly into the house, Tug took his shot-gun out of the boat and hastily loaded it, but with great care to see that the priming was well up in the nipple and a good cap on. Then he slung over his shoulders his shot-pouch and powder-horn—a short, black, well-polished horn of buffalo, of which he was very proud, for it had been a curiosity in Monore—and begged them all to stay in the house and let him alone, unless he called to them, and, above all, to keep the dog inside.
This said, he crawled forward out of the low doorway, holding his gun well in front of him, and the other three sat down to wait for the result.
Scarcely a minute had passed before a sharp report was heard, and a little thud upon the canvas roof. At this sound Rex leaped up, and was greatly excited. His ears were raised, his eyes flashed, and he gave several short, quick barks. But Aleck had twisted his fingers in the dog's mane, and forced him to drop down and keep quiet.
Very soon afterwards there rang out a second report, and again, after time enough to reload, a third. Then the sportsman's voice was heard calling, and all ran out to see how many he had bagged.
"A SHARP REPORT WAS HEARD."