He had rambled far up the slope of the main divide where he often hunted. Something beat faintly against his ear drums, and he knew it was a far off sound of man. His ears pricked forward and he moved excitedly from spot to spot. It was a man who whistled and the air was one of the few little tunes that Moran had whistled endlessly as he wandered alone. Flash started swiftly along the hill in the direction of the sound.
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