There might have ensued a wordy
sparring about caribou versus bicycle, had not the guide been impressed
with the necessity for prompt action at the expense of speech.
"We must quit our talk and get a move on," he whispered, and led the
forward march across the bog, his eyes every now and again narrowing
into two gleaming slits, as if he were debating within himself, while he
studied the ground or some bush which showed signs of being nibbled or
trampled. Then he would sweep the horizon with long-range vision.
But not a tuft of hair or glancing horn hove in sight.
The marsh was left behind. The hoof-marks were lost in a wide meadowy
sweep of open ground, bounded at a distance by an irregular line of
hills, sparsely covered with spruce-trees.
Towards these Herb headed, leaving Katahdin away back in the rear.
"'Shaw! I'm afeard they're 'nowhere' by this time," he whispered, when
the hunters reached the rising ground, glancing at Dol, who stepped
lightly beside him.
The boy's lips parted to breathe out compressed disappointment; but his
answer was lost in a sharp whirr! whirr! and a sudden flutter of wings
above his head.
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