"Sure," he said. "I hear him."
Bull had heard nothing. Nothing but the hiss of the snow under their own runners, and the whimper of their own dogs.
"It wouldn't be a wolf or fox?" he demurred.
The half-breed clucked his tongue. His vanity was outraged.
Bull gazed intently in the direction the whip had pointed. He could see only the far-off forest line, and the soft whiteness of the world of snow.
"Hark!"
The half-breed again held up his whip. This time it was for attention. Bull listened. Still he could hear nothing, nothing at all but the sounds of their own progress.
"Man! Him speak with dog. Oh, yes."
Gouter had turned. His beady black eyes were shining with a smile of triumph into the white man's face.
"By the forest?"