"Does he see us, little brother?" whispered Mooka, quivering with
excitement and panting from the rapid climb.
"See us? sartin, little sister; but that only make him want peek um some
more," said the little hunter. And raised carelessly on his elbows he
was telling Mooka how Megaleep the caribou trusted only his nose, and
how he watched and played peekaboo with anything which he could not
smell, and how in a snowstorm--
Noel was off now like a brook, babbling a deal of caribou lore which he
had learned from Old Tomah the hunter, when Mooka, whose restless black
eyes were always wandering, seized his arm.
"Hush, brother, and look, oh, look! there on the big rock!"
Noel's eyes had already caught the Indian trick of seeing only what they
look for, and so of separating an animal instantly from his
surroundings, however well he hides. That is why the whole hillside
seemed suddenly to vanish, spruces and harebells, snow-fields and
drifting white clouds all grouping themselves, like the unnoticed frame
of a picture, around a great gray rock with a huge shaggy she-wolf
keeping watch over it, silent, alert, motionless.
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