They were almost too late in restraining the knowledge- hunger of
Skookum. They went on a mile or two and realized in so doing
that, however poor a trapper the enemy might be, he was a good
tramper and knew the country.
At sundown they came to their half-way shelter and put up there
for the night. Once when Rolf went out to glimpse the skies
before turning in, he heard a far tree creaking and wondered, for
it was dead calm. Even Skookum noticed it. But it was not
repeated. Next morning they went on.
There are many quaint sounds in the woods at all times, the
rasping of trees, at least a dozen different calls by jays, twice
as many by ravens, and occasional notes from chicadees, grouse,
and owls. The quadrupeds in general are more silent, but the red
squirrel is ever about and noisy, as well as busy.
Far-reaching sounds are these echoes of the woods -- some of them
very far. Probably there were not five minutes of the day or
night when some weird, woodland chatter, scrape, crack, screech,
or whistle did not reach the keen ears of that ever-alert dog.
That is, three hundred times a day his outer ear submitted to his
inner ear some report of things a-doing, which same report was
as often for many days disregarded as of no interest or value.
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