“No,” Grandpa shouted back. “I can’t hear anything in this storm.”
I thought I did, but I’m not sure,” the judge said. “Where was it coming from?” Papa asked.
“Over that way,” the judge said, pointing to our right. “That’s the way it sounded to me,” Papa said.
At that moment, all of us heard the deep voice of Old Dan.
“It sounds as if they’re close,” Grandpa said. “Let’s split up,” said the judge.
“Maybe one of us can find them.” “No,” Papa said, “it’d be easy to get lost in this storm.”
“I think they’re more to the right of us,” I said. “I do, too,” Papa said.
We trudged on. Old Dan bawled again. The sound of his voice seemed to be all around us.
“The way that wind is whipping the sound through this timber,” the judge said, “we’d be lucky if we ever found them.”
Papa shouted over the roar of the wind, “We can’t take much more of this. We’ll freeze to death.”
The men were giving up. I felt the knot again as it crawled up in my throat. Salt water froze on my eyelashes.
Kneeling down, I put my ear close to the icy ground in hopes I could hear my dogs, but I couldn’t hear anything above the roar of the blizzard.
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