The moon had not risen when he reached the bluff, but the snow reflected a faint light and he noticed a row of small depressions on its surface. Kneeling down, he examined them, but there had been wind during the day and the marks were blurred. He felt for a match, but his fingers were too numbed to open the watertight case, and he proceeded to measure the distance between the footprints. This was an unreliable test because a big deer's stride varies with its pace, but he thought the tracks indicated a caribou. Then he stopped, without rising, and looked about.
Close in front the trees rose in a shadowy wall against the clear blue sky; there was no wind, and it was oppressively still. He could see about a quarter of a mile across the open, but the darkness of the wood was impenetrable and its silence daunting. The row of tracks was the only sign of life he had seen for days.
While he listened a faint howl came out of the distance and was followed by another. After the deep silence, the sound was startling and there was danger in it, for Blake recognized the cry of the timber wolves. The big grey brutes would make short work of a lonely man and his flesh crept as he wondered whether they were on his trail. On the whole, it did not seem likely, though they might get scent of him, and, rising to his feet, he felt that the rifle magazine was full before he set off at his highest speed.
The snow was loose, however, and his shoes packed and sank; his breath got shorter, and he began to feel distressed. There was no sound behind him, but that somehow increased his uneasiness and now and then he anxiously turned his head. Nothing moved on the sweep of blue-grey shadow and he pressed on, knowing how poor his speed was compared with that the wolves were capable of making. At length it was with keen satisfaction he saw a flicker of light break out from the dark mass of a bluff ahead and a few minutes later he came, breathing hard, into camp.
"You haven't stayed out long," Benson remarked. "I suppose you saw nothing."
"I heard wolves," Blake answered drily. "You had better gather wood enough to keep a big fire going, because I've no doubt they'll pick up my trail. However, it's a promising sign."
"I guess we could do without it," Harding broke in. "I've no use for wolves."
"They must live on something," Blake rejoined. "Since they're here, there are probably moose or caribou in the neighbourhood. I'll have another try to-morrow."
"But the wolves."
"They're not so bold in daylight. Anyhow, it seems to me we must take some risks."