t. It stretched out both ways
from them, a thin, grim line of tragedy in the moonlight, and from where
they stood it appeared to reach into a black and abysmal sea.

Once more man and dog paused, and looked back at what had been. And
the whine came in Peter's throat again and something tugged inside him,
urging him to bark up into the face of the moon, as he had often barked
for Nada in the days of his puppyhood, and afterward.

But his master went on and Peter followed him, stepping the uneven ties
one by one. And with the black chaos of the world under and about them,
and the glorious light of the moon filling; the sky over their heads,
the journey they made seemed weirdly unreal. For the silver and gold
of the moon and the black muck of the fire refused to mingle, and while
over their heads they could see the tiniest clouds and beyond to the
farthest stars, all was black emptiness when they looked about them upon
what once had been a living earth. Only the two lines of steel caught
the moon-glow and the charred ends of the fire-shriven stubs that rose
up out of the earth shroud and silhouetted themselves against the sky.

To Peter it was not what he failed to see, but what he did not hear
or smell that oppressed him and stirred him to wide-eyed watchfulness
against impending evil. Under many moons he had traveled with his master
in their never-ending flight from the law, and many other nights with
neither moon nor stars had they felt out their trails together. But
always, under him and over him on all sides of him, there had been LIFE.
And tonight there was no life, nor smell of life. There was no chirp of
night bird, or flutter of owl's wing, no plash of duck or cry of loon.
He listened in vain for the crinkling snap of twig, and the whisper
of wind in treetops. And there was no smell--no musk of mink that had
crossed his path, no taste in the air of the strong scented fox, no
subtle breath of partridge and rabbit and fleshy porcupine. And even
from the far distances there came no sound, no howl of wolf, no castanet
clatter of stout moose horns against bending saplings--not even the howl
of a trapper's dog.

The stillness was of the earth, and yet unearthly. It was even as if
some fearsome thing was smothering the sound of his master's feet. To
McKay, sensing these same things that Peter sensed, came understanding
that brought with it an uneasiness which changed swiftly into the
chill of a growing fear. The utter