Page:The Cross Pull.pdf/136

 He had come down from winter to spring. Here each open spot was green and the drifts only laid in the darkest, most sheltered spots in the timber. As he walked under the trees Moran whistled cheerfully.

He had a sudden feeling that something watched him—followed him. Many times he had tried to analyze this feeling. All men who live in the open are familiar with it. They variously speak of it as a “feeling” or a “hunch.” Others, slightly more learned, refer to it as intuition or class it as some mysterious, subtle sixth sense. Moran strove always for some natural explanation of all things.

Often when hunting or rambling in the hills he had suddenly known that game was near him. He could not tell why he knew. At times he had even known the kind—bear, elk or deer as the case might be. Later, upon investigation, he frequently found a fresh bear track or the warm bed of some elk or deer if the animal itself was gone. There is a strong odor that lingers for hours about the deserted bed of a large animal and when very close to it even the nose of man can easily tell the difference between the scent of deer and elk. It was this fact that had first started Moran’s mind