"Just about. They try to, anyway. In the traces, of course, they can't do much but snap an' snarl, but that they're always doin'. This time, however, all save one or two of them stood upright sniffin' uneasily.
"'Wind?' I asked the Indian.
"'Heap wind!' he answered. 'Go back?'
"Now you may lay ten to one that when an Indian is the first to suggest goin' back, trouble with a big 'T' is right handy. I reckon that was the first time I ever did hear an Indian propose goin' back. 'Why go back, Billy?' I asked.
"'Heap wind,' he repeated, 'old trail easy.' He pointed ahead, 'No trail!'"
"He meant, I suppose," Hamilton interjected, "that if you doubled on your tracks the trail would have been broken before, and it would be easy going."
"That's the bull's-eye, and if a storm did come up we'd have a trail to follow and not get lost."
"Did you go back?"
"I did not. I figured that while we were about a day's journey to a settlement either way, we were perhaps an hour nearer where we were goin' than where we had come from, an' that perhaps the storm would hold off long enough for us to make it. Those storms last for days, sometimes, an' we'd have the trip to make anyway, even if we did go back. Besides, I didn't want to lose the time. 'No, Billy,' I called to the Siwash, 'go on!'
"I was sorry the minute I said it, because I knew the Siwash thought me wrong, although, bein' an Indian, of course he never showed a sign. He started up the dogs without a word. I knew he thought it reckless and dangerous, but tortures wouldn't have made him say so. In half an hour's time, I began to be sure he was right."