Marian did not feel very sure that her predictions would prove true, but she was the sort of person who measures all perils carefully, then hopes for the best.
Two hours later they were eating a meal of reindeer stew and hot biscuits, which had been cooked over a willow-wood fire in their Yukon stove. Then as they chatted of the future, Marian held up a finger for silence.
“What was that?” she whispered. “A shot?”
“I didn’t—”
“Yes, yes. There’s another!”
Marian was up and out of the tent in an instant.
As her eyes swept the horizon they caught a gleam of light from the hills above, the red and yellow light of a camp-fire.
With one sweeping glance she took in the position of her herd. She had just noted that a certain brown deer had strayed some distance up the hill. She was about to suggest to Terogloona, who had also been called from his tent by the shots, that he send a dog after the deer, when, to her great astonishment, she caught a flash of light, heard a sharp report, then saw the brown deer crumple up like an empty sack and drop to the snow.
For one instant she stood there as if in a trance, then with a quick turn she said:
“Patsy, you stay with Attatak. Terogloona, you come with me.”