and stealthily, watching and listening for things he had never
seen or heard.

In the gloom of the cabin his eyes remained fixed steadily upon
the open door, and for a long time he listened only for the
returning footsteps of Jolly Roger and Nada. Twice he made efforts
to drag himself to the edge of the bunk, but the movement sent
such a cutting pain through him that he did not make a third. And
outside, after a time, he heard the Night People rousing
themselves. They were very cautious, these Night People, for
unlike the creatures of the dawn, waking to greet the sun with
song and happiness, most of them were sharp-fanged and long-
clawed-rovers and pirates of the great wilderness, ready to kill.
And this, too, Peter sensed through the generations of northland
dog that was in him. He heard a wolf howl, coming faintly through
the night from miles away, and something told him it was not a
dog. From nearer came the call of a moose, and that same sense
told him he had heard a monster bear which his eyes had never
seen. He did not know of the soft-footed, night-eyed creatures of
prey--the fox, the lynx, the fisher-cat, the mink and the ermine,
nor of the round-eyed, feathered murderers in the tree-tops--yet
that same something told him they were out there among the
shadows, under the luring glow of the moon. And a thing happened,
all at once, to stab the truth home to him. A baby snowshoe
rabbit, a third grown, hopped out into the open close to the cabin
door, and as it nibbled at the green grass, a gray catapult of
claw and feathers shot out of the air, and Peter heard the crying
agony of the rabbit as the owl bore it off into the thick spruce
tops. Even then--unafraid--Peter wanted to go out into the moon
glow!