More T. Brown hearsay - guy I knew who took Brown's course said that Brown claimed he could determine, just from a person's footprint, the state of their health - down to whether they had a cold.
As a teenager, I read the Reader's Digest excerpt from "The Tracker," and was impressed until the campfire story set off the B.S. detector. Seems as kids, Brown and his buddy were sitting around a Pine Barrens campfire one evening, when up from the thawing ground pops a corpse's arm - apparently they'd built their fire over some mob victim's shallow grave. In his retelling, Brown just casually reaches out and hangs his coffee mug on the dead guy's thumb. Dude, you are so cool.
I can attest to the existence of Pine Barren dog packs, however, at least back in the late 70s. During the summer a couple high school friends and I used to hike the Batona trail, camping off trail (illegally). One night I was setting up camp while they went to refill the canteens - they were gone awhile, it was well after sunset, and I was starting to get worried. And then I heard the dogs - somewhere to the west, and moving: chasing prey, I imagine. Couldn't judge how far away they might have been, but the noise was pretty awful - like they were in pain. (Then again, a pack of domesticated dogs baying in the woods at night might sound equally creepy - I wouldn't know.) Since I'd read the Brown stuff, I assumed they were the feral packs he'd written about - the ones that supposedly rip open soupcans with their teeth.
Anyhow, my friends finally got back with the water, and we sat around the fire and listened to the baying and barking for a couple of hours; sometimes nearly swallowed by the distance, and once close enough that we climbed trees and waited - but saw nothing. To our north was a designated camping area in Lebanon S.F., I believe, which we'd passed earlier in the day. The camp was full of Boy Scouts, and at one point we heard shouts and slamming car doors when the pack approached their direction. Though we tried to post guard in shifts, we all fell asleep anyway.
Back on the trail the following morning, we saw no sign of the things - just a stiff, shredded fawn that had been dead for weeks, by the looks of it, and possibly some pawprints in the soft sand.