He growled uneasily and turned back. When halfway along the rims toward the cabin he stopped in his tracks, every hair stiff and erect along his spin. He had caught the plain scent of a single man; one strong whiff and it was lost in a conflicting rush of air. He knew that scent. It was that of one of the men who had been at Brent’s cabin the night he had looked in at the window; one of the three who had come into the hills that same night. Often he had noted his trail among those around the secret camp near Two Ocean Pass. Later he had been among those who had tried to take the girl when she stumbled across their fire in the black fog.
Flash knew that this man was somewhere close at hand. It was not the trail scent but the body scent that he had caught! He prowled along the rim but could not catch the scent again and he raced for the cabin without another pause.
Moran was sitting on the sill but Betty was not there. Flash found her warm trail, less than five minutes old, leading along the slope. It soon dipped slantingly toward the stream. The wind was at his back and he could not catch her body scent, and the groaning of the trees under the lash
