They both lay flat in the snow, half-buried. From the camp there were now no sounds at all. For the first time today Dylan could hear the snow fall.
"Did you get a good look?"
Rush grunted, relaxing. "Should've saved your fire, son. Looked like one o' them monkeys."
But there was something wrong. There was something that Dylan had heard in the quickness of the moment which he could not remember but which was very wrong.
"Listen," he said, suddenly placing it. "Dammit, that was no monkey."
"Easy—"
"I hit it. I hit it cold. It made a noise."
Rush was staring at him.
"Didn't you hear?" Dylan cried.