[Illustration: The canoe sped out into the gloom. ]

THE GOLD HUNTERS

A Story of Life and Adventure in the Hudson Bay Wilds

BYJAMES OLIVER CURWOOD

1909

To the sweet-voiced, dark-eyed little half-Cree maidenat Lac-Bain, who is the Minnetaki of this story; and to "Teddy" Brown, guide and trapper, and loyal comrade of the author in many of hisadventures, this book is affectionately dedicated. 

CHAPTER I

THE PURSUIT OF THE HUDSON BAY MAIL

The deep hush of noon hovered over the vast solitude of Canadianforest. The moose and caribou had fed since early dawn, and wereresting quietly in the warmth of the February sun; the lynx was curledaway in his niche between the great rocks, waiting for the sun tosink farther into the north and west before resuming his maraudingadventures; the fox was taking his midday slumber and the restlessmoose-birds were fluffing themselves lazily in the warm glow that wasbeginning to melt the snows of late winter. 

It was that hour when the old hunter on the trail takes off his pack, silently gathers wood for a fire, eats his dinner and smokes his pipe, eyes and ears alert;--that hour when if you speak above a whisper, hewill say to you, "Sh-h-h-h! Be quiet! You can't tell how near we are to game. Everything has had its morning feed and is lying low. The game won'tbe moving again for an hour or two, and there may be moose or cariboua gunshot ahead. We couldn't hear them--now!"

And yet, after a time one thing detached itself from this lifelesssolitude. At first it was nothing more than a spot on the sunny sideof a snow-covered ridge. Then it moved, stretched itself like a dog, with its forefeet extended far to the front and its shoulders hunchedlow--and was a wolf. 

A wolf is a heavy sleeper after a feast. A hunter would have said thatthis wolf had gorged itself the night before. Still, something hadalarmed it. Faintly there came to this wilderness outlaw that mostthrilling of all things to the denizens of the forest--the scent ofman. He came down the ridge with the slow indifference of a full-fedanimal, and with only a half of his old cunning; trotted across thesoftening snow of an opening and stopped where the man-scent was sostrong that he lifted his head straight up to the sky and sent out tohis comrades in forest and plain the warning signal that he had strucka human trail. A wolf will do this, and no more, in broad day. Atnight he might follow, and others would join him in the chase; butwith daylight about him he gives the warning and after a little slinksaway from the trail. 

But something held this wolf. There was a mystery in the air whichpuzzled him. Straight ahead there ran the broad, smooth trail of asled and the footprints of many dogs. Sometime within the last hourthe "dog mail" from Wabinosh House had passed that way on its longtrip to civilization. But it was not the swift passage of man anddog that held the wolf rigidly alert, ready for flight--and yethesitating. It was something from the opposite direction, from theNorth, out of which the wind was coming. First it was sound; then itwas scent--then both, and the wolf sped in swift flight up the sunlitridge. 

In the direction from which the alarm came there stretched a smalllake, and on its farther edge, a quarter of a mile away, theresuddenly darted out from the dense rim of balsam forest a jumble ofdogs and sledge and man. For a few moments the mass of animals seemedentangled in some kind of wreck or engaged in one of those fiercebattles in which the half-wild sledge-dogs of the North frequentlyengage, even on the trail. Then there came the sharp, commanding criesof a human voice, the cracking of a whip, the yelping of thehuskies, and the disordered team straightened itself and came like ayellowish-gray streak across the smooth surface of the lake. Closebeside the sledge ran the man. He was tall, and thin, and even at thatdistance one would have recognized him as an Indian. Hardly had theteam and its wild-looking driver progressed a quarter of the distanceacross the lake when there came a shout farther back, and a secondsledge burst into view from out of the thick forest. Beside thissledge, too, a driver was running with desperate speed. 

The leader now leaped upon his sledge, his voice rising in sharp criesof exhortation, his whip whirling and cracking over the backs of hisdogs. The second driver still ran, and thus gained upon the teamahead, so that when they came to the opposite side of the lake, wherethe wolf had sent out the warning cry to his people, the twelve dogsof the two teams were almost abreast. 

Quickly there came a slackening in the pace set by the leading dog ofeach team, and half a minute later the sledges stopped. The dogs flungthemselves down in their harness, panting, with gaping jaws, the snowreddening under their bleeding feet. The men, too, showed signs ofterrible strain. The elder of these, as we have said, was an Indian, pure breed of the great Northern wilderness. His companion was a youthwho had not yet reached his twenties, slender, but with the strengthand agility of an animal in his limbs, his handsome face bronzed bythe free life of the forest, and in his veins a plentiful strain ofthat blood which made his comrade kin. 

In those two we have again met our old friends Mukoki and Wabigoon:Mukoki, the faithful old warrior and pathfinder, and Wabigoon, theadventurous half-Indian son of the factor of Wabinosh House. Bothwere at the height of some great excitement. For a few moments, whilegaining breath, they gazed silently into each other's face. 

"I'm afraid--we can't--catch them, Muky, " panted the younger. "What doyou think--"

He stopped, for Mukoki had thrown himself on his knees in the snow adozen feet in front of the teams. From that point there ran straightahead of them the trail of the dog mail. For perhaps a full minute heexamined the imprints of the dogs' feet and the smooth path madeby the sledge. Then he looked up, and with one of those inimitablechuckles which meant so much when coming from him, he said:

"We catch heem--sure! See--sledge heem go _deep_. Both ride. Big loadfor dogs. We catch heem--sure!"

"But our dogs!" persisted Wabigoon, his face still filled with doubt. "They're completely bushed, and my leader has gone lame. See howthey're bleeding!"

The huskies, as the big wolfish sledge-dogs of the far North arecalled, were indeed in a pitiable condition. The warm sun had weakenedthe hard crust of the snow until at every leap the feet of the animalshad broken through, tearing and wounding themselves on its ragged, knife-like edges. Mukoki's face became more serious as he carefullyexamined the teams. 

"Bad--ver' bad, " he grunted. "We fool--fool!"

"For not bringing dog shoes?" said Wabigoon. "I've got a dozen shoeson my sledge--enough for three dogs. By George--" He leaped quickly tohis toboggan, caught up the dog moccasins, and turned again to the oldIndian, alive with new excitement. "We've got just one chance, Muky!"he half shouted. 

"Pick out the strongest dogs. One of us must go on alone!"

The sharp commands of the two adventurers and the cracking of Mukoki'swhip brought the tired and bleeding animals to their feet. Over thepads of three of the largest and strongest were drawn the buckskinmoccasins, and to these three, hitched to Wabigoon's sledge, wereadded six others that appeared to have a little endurance still leftin them. A few moments later the long line of dogs was speedingswiftly over the trail of the Hudson Bay mail, and beside the sled ranWabigoon. 

Thus this thrilling pursuit of the dog mail had continued since earlydawn. For never more than a minute or two at a time had there been arest. Over mountain and lake, through dense forest and across barrenplain man and dog had sped without food or drink, snatching upmouthfuls of snow here and there--always their eyes upon the freshtrail of the flying mail. Even the fierce huskies seemed to understandthat the chase had become a matter of life and death, and that theywere to follow the trail ahead of them, ceaselessly and withoutdeviation, until the end of their masters was accomplished. The humanscent was becoming stronger and stronger in their wolf-like nostrils. Somewhere on that trail there were men, and other dogs, and they wereto overtake them!

Even now, bleeding and stumbling as they ran, the blood of battle, theexcitement of the chase, was hot within them. Half-wolf, half-dog, their white fangs snarling as stronger whiffs of the man-smell came tothem, they were filled with the savage desperation of the youth whourged them on. The keen instinct of the wild pointed out their road tothem, and they needed no guiding hand. Faithful until the last theydragged on their burden, their tongues lolling farther from theirjaws, their hearts growing weaker, their eyes bloodshot until theyglowed like red balls. Now and then, when he had run until hisendurance was gone, Wabigoon would fling himself upon the sledge toregain breath and rest his limbs, and the dogs would tug harder, scarce slackening their speed under the increased weight. Once a hugemoose crashed through the forest a hundred paces away, but the huskiespaid no attention to it; a little farther on a lynx, aroused fromhis sun bath on a rock, rolled like a great gray ball across thetrail, --the dogs cringed but for an instant at the sight of thismortal enemy of theirs, and then went on. 

Slower and slower grew the pace. The rearmost dog was now no more thana drag, and reaching a keen-edged knife far out over the end of thesledge Wabi severed his breast strap and the exhausted animal rolledout free beside the trail. Two others of the team were pulling scarcea pound, another was running lame, and the trail behind was spottedwith pads of blood. Each minute added to the despair that was growingin the youth's face. His eyes, like those of his faithful dogs, werered from the terrible strain of the race, his lips were parted, hislegs, as tireless as those of a red deer, were weakening under him. More and more frequently he flung himself upon the sledge, pantingfor breath, and shorter and shorter became his intervals of runningbetween these periods of rest. The end of the chase was almost athand. They could not overtake the Hudson Bay mail!

With a final cry of encouragement Wabi sprang from the sledge andplunged along at the head of the dogs, urging them on in one lastsupreme effort. Ahead of them was a break in the forest trail andbeyond that, mile upon mile, stretched the vast white surface of LakeNipigon. And far out in the glare of sun and snow there moved anobject, something that was no more than a thin black streak toWabi's blinded eyes but which he knew was the dog mail on its way tocivilization. He tried to shout, but the sound that fell from his lipscould not have been heard a hundred paces away; his limbs totteredbeneath him; his feet seemed suddenly to turn into lead, and he sankhelpless into the snow. The faithful pack crowded about him lickinghis face and hands, their hot breath escaping between their gapingjaws like hissing steam For a few moments it seemed to the Indianyouth that day had suddenly turned into night. His eyes closed, thepanting of the dogs came to him more and more faintly, as if they weremoving away; he felt himself sinking, sinking slowly down into utterblackness. 

Desperately he fought to bring himself back into life. There was onemore chance--just one! He heard the dogs again, he felt their tonguesupon his hands and face, and he dragged himself to his knees, gropingout with his hands like one who had gone blind. A few feet away wasthe sledge, and out there, far beyond his vision now, was the HudsonBay mail!

Foot by foot he drew himself out from among the tangle of dogs. Hereached the sledge, and his fingers gripped convulsively at the coldsteel of his rifle. One more chance! One more chance! The words--thethought--filled his brain, and he raised the rifle to his shoulder, pointing its muzzle up to the sky so that he would not harm the dogs. And then, once, twice, five times he fired into the air, and at theend of the fifth shot he drew fresh cartridges from his belt, and fired again and again, until the black streak far out in thewilderness of ice and snow stopped in its progress--and turned back. And still the sharp signals rang out again and again, until the barrelof Wabi's rifle grew hot, and his cartridge belt was empty. 

Slowly the gloom cleared away before his eyes. He heard a shout, andstaggered to his feet, stretching out his arms and calling a name asthe dog mail stopped half a hundred yards from his own team. 

With something between a yell of joy and a cry of astonishment a youthof about Wabi's age sprang from the second sleigh and ran to theIndian boy, catching him in his arms as for a second time, he sankfainting upon the snow. 

"Wabi--what's the matter?" he cried. "Are you hurt? Are you--"

For a moment Wabigoon struggled to overcome his weakness. 

"Rod--" he whispered, "Rod--Minnetaki--"

His lips ceased to move and he sank heavily in his companion's arms. 

"What is it, Wabi? Quick! Speak!" urged the other. His face had grownstrangely white, his voice trembled. "What about--Minnetaki?"

Again the Indian youth fought to bring himself back to life. His wordscame faintly, "Minnetaki--has been captured--by--the--Woongas!"

Then even his breath seemed to stop, and he lay like one dead. 

CHAPTER II

MINNETAKI IN THE HANDS OF THE OUTLAWS

For a brief time Roderick believed that life had indeed passed fromthe body of his young friend. So still did Wabi lie and so terrifyingwas the strange pallor in his face that the white boy found himselfcalling on his comrade in a voice filled with choking sobs. The driverof the dog mail dropped on his knees beside the two young hunters. Running his hand under Wabi's thick shirt he held it there for aninstant, and said, "He's alive!"

Quickly drawing a small metal flask from one of his pockets heunscrewed the top, and placing the mouthpiece to the Indian youth'slips forced a bit of its contents down his throat. The liquor hadalmost immediate effect, and Wabigoon opened his eyes, gazed into therough visage of the courier, then closed them again. There was reliefin the courier's face as he pointed to the dogs from Wabinosh House. The exhausted animals were lying stretched upon the snow, their headsdrooping between their forefeet. Even the presence of a rival teamfailed to arouse them from their lethargy. One might have thought thatdeath had overtaken them upon the trail were it not for their pantingsides and lolling tongues. 

"He's not hurt!" exclaimed the driver, "see the dogs! He's beenrunning--running until he dropped in his tracks!"

The assurance brought but little comfort to Rod. He could feel thetremble of returning life in Wabi's body now, but the sight of theexhausted and bleeding dogs and the memory of his comrade's last wordshad filled him with a new and terrible fear. What had happened toMinnetaki? Why had the factor's son come all this distance for him?Why had he pursued the mail until his dogs were nearly dead, and hehimself had fallen unconscious in his tracks? Was Minnetaki dead? Hadthe Woongas killed Wabi's beautiful little sister?

Again and again he implored his friend to speak to him, until thecourier pushed him back and carried Wabi to the mail sled. 

"Hustle up there to that bunch of spruce and build a fire, " hecommanded. "We've got to get something hot into him, and rub him down, and roll him in furs. This is bad enough, bad enough!"

Rod waited to hear no more, but ran to the clump of spruce to whichthe courier had directed him. Among them he found a number of birchtrees, and stripping off an armful of bark he had a fire blazing uponthe snow by the time the dog mail drew up with its unconscious burden. While the driver was loosening Wabi's clothes and bundling him inheavy bearskins Rod added dry limbs to the fire until it threw a warmglow for a dozen paces around. Within a few minutes a pot of ice andsnow was melting over the flames and the courier was opening a can ofcondensed soup. 

The deathly pallor had gone from Wabi's face, and Rod, kneeling closebeside him, was rejoiced to see the breath coming more and moreregularly from between his lips. But even as he rejoiced the otherfear grew heavier at his heart. What had happened to Minnetaki? Hefound himself repeating the question again and again as he watchedWabi slowly returning to life, and, so quickly that it had passed in aminute or two, there flashed through his mind a vision of all that hadhappened the last few months. For a few moments, as his mind traveledback, he was again in Detroit with his widowed mother; he thought ofthe day he had first met Wabigoon, the son of an English factor and abeautiful Indian princess, who had come far down into civilization tobe educated; of the friendship that had followed, of their weeks andmonths together in school, and then of those joyous days and nights inwhich they had planned a winter of thrilling adventure at Wabi's homein the far North. 

And what adventures there had been, when, as the Wolf Hunters, he andWabi and Mukoki had braved the perils of the frozen solitudes! AsWabigoon's breath came more and more regularly he thought of thatwonderful canoe trip from the last bit of civilization up into thewilds; of his first sight of moose, the first bear he had killed, andof his meeting with Minnetaki. 

His eyes became blurred and his heart grew cold as he thought of whatmight have happened to her. A vision of the girl swept between him andWabi's face, in which the glow of life was growing warmer and warmer, a vision of the little half-Indian maiden as he had first seen her, when she came out to meet them in her canoe from Wabinosh House, thesun shining on her dark hair, her cheeks flushed with excitement, hereyes and teeth sparkling in glad welcome to her beloved brotherand the white youth of whom she had heard so much--the boy fromcivilization--Roderick Drew. He remembered how his cap had blown offinto the water, how she had rescued it for him. In a flash all thatpassed after that came before him like a picture; the days that he andMinnetaki had rambled together in the forest, the furious battlein which, single-handed, he had saved her from those fierce outlawIndians of the North, the Woongas; and after that he thought ofthe weeks of thrilling adventure they three--Mukoki, Wabigoon andhimself--had spent in the wilderness far from the Hudson Bay Post, oftheir months of trapping, their desperate war with the Woongas, thediscovery of the century-old cabin and its ancient skeletons, andtheir finding of the birch-bark map between the bones of one of theskeleton's fingers, on which, dimmed by age, was drawn the trail to aland of gold. 

Instinctively, as for an instant this map came into his mentalpicture, he thrust a hand into one of his inside pockets to feel thathis own copy of that map was there, the map which was to have broughthim back into this wilderness a few weeks hence, when they three wouldset out on the romantic quest for the gold to which the skeletons inthe old cabin had given them the key. 

The vision left him as he saw a convulsive shudder pass throughWabigoon. In another moment the Indian youth had opened his eyes, andas he looked up into Rod's eager face he smiled feebly. He tried tospeak, but words failed him, and his eyes closed again. There was alook of terror in Roderick's face as he turned to the courier, whocame to his side. Less than twenty-four hours before he had leftWabigoon in the full strength of his splendid youth at Wabinosh House, a lithe young giant, hardened by their months of adventure, quiveringwith buoyant life, anxious for the spring that they might meet againto take up another trail into the unexplored North. 

And now what a change! The glimpse he had caught of Wabi's bloodshoteyes, the terrible thinness of the Indian youth's face, the chillinglifelessness of his hands, made him shiver with dread. Was itpossible that a few short hours could bring about that remarkabletransformation? And where was Mukoki, the faithful old warrior fromwhose guardianship Wabigoon and Minnetaki were seldom allowed toescape?

It seemed an hour before Wabi opened his eyes again, and yet it wasonly a few minutes. This time Rod lifted him gently in his arms andthe courier placed a cup of the hot soup to his lips. The warmth ofthe liquid put new life into the famished Indian youth. He drankslowly of it at first, then eagerly, and when he had finished the cuphe made an effort to sit up. 

"I'll take another, " he said faintly. "It's mighty good!"

He drank the second cup with even greater relish. Then he sat boltupright, stretched out his arms, and with his companion's assistancestaggered to his feet. His bloodshot eyes burned with a strangeexcitement as he looked at Rod. 

"I was afraid--I wouldn't--catch you!"

"What is it, Wabi? What has happened? You say--Minnetaki--"

"Has been captured by the Woongas. Chief Woonga himself is her captor, and they are taking her into the North. Rod, only you can save her!"

"Only--I--can--save--her?" gasped Rod slowly. "What do you mean?"

"Listen!" cried the Indian boy, clutching him by the arm. "Youremember that after our fight with the Woongas and our escape from thechasm we fled to the south, and that the next day, while you were awayfrom camp hunting for some animal that would give us fat for Mukoki'swound, you discovered a trail. You told us that you followed thesledge tracks, and that after a time the party had been met by otherson snow-shoes, and that among the imprints in the snow was one thatmade you think of Minnetaki. When we reached the Post we learned thatMinnetaki and two sledges had gone to Kenegami House and at onceconcluded that those snow-shoe trails were made by Kenegami peoplesent out to meet her. But they were not! They were made by Woongas!

"One of the guides, who escaped with a severe wound, brought the newsto us last night, and the doctor at the Post says that his hurt isfatal and that he will not live another day. Everything depends onyou. You and the dying guide are the only two who know where to findthe place where the attack was made. It has been thawing for two daysand the trail may be obliterated. But you saw Minnetaki's footprints. You saw the snow-shoe trails. You--and you alone--know which way theywent!"

Wabi spoke rapidly, excitedly, and then sank down on the sledge, weakened by his exertion. 

"We have been chasing you with two teams since dawn, " he added, "andpretty nearly killed the dogs. As a last chance we doubled up theteams and I came on alone. I left Mukoki a dozen miles back on thetrail. "

Rod's blood had turned cold with horror at the knowledge thatMinnetaki was in the clutches of Woonga himself. The terrible changein Wabi was no longer a mystery. Both Minnetaki and her brother hadtold him more than once of the relentless feud waged against WabinoshHouse by this bloodthirsty savage and during the last winter he hadcome into personal contact with it. He had fought, had seen peopledie, and had almost fallen a victim to Woonga's vengeance. 

But it was not of these things that he thought just now. It was of thereason for the feud, and something rose in his throat and choked himuntil he made no effort to speak. Many years before, George Newsome, ayoung Englishman, had come to Wabinosh House, and there he had metand fallen in love with a beautiful Indian princess, who loved him inturn, and became his wife. Woonga, chief of a warlike tribe, had beenhis rival, and when the white man won in the battle for love hisfierce heart blazed with the fire of hatred and revenge. From that daythe relentless strife against the people of Wabinosh House began. Thefollowers of Woonga turned from trappers and hunters to murderers andoutlaws, and became known all over that wilderness country as theWoongas. For years the feud had continued. Like a hawk Woonga watchedhis opportunities, killing here, robbing there, and always waiting achance to rob the factor of his wife or children. Only a few weeksbefore Rod had saved Minnetaki in that terrible struggle in theforest. And now, more hopelessly than before, she had fallen into theclutches of her enemies, and alone with Woonga was being carried intothe far North country, into those vast unexplored regions from whichshe would probably never return!

Rod turned to Wabi, his hands clenched, his eyes blazing. 

"I can find the trail, Wabi! I can find the trail--and we'll followit to the North Pole if we have to! We beat the Woongas in thechasm--we'll beat them now! We'll find Minnetaki if it takes us untildoomsday!"

From far back in the forest there came the faint pistol-like cracks ofa whip, the distant hallooing of a voice. 

For a few moments the three stood listening. 

The voice came again. 

"It's Mukoki, " said Wabigoon, "Mukoki and the other dogs!"

CHAPTER III

ON THE TRAIL OF THE WOONGAS

The cries came nearer, interspersed with the cracking of Mukoki's whipas he urged on the few lagging dogs that Wabi had left with him uponthe trail. In another moment the old warrior and his team burst intoview and both of the young hunters hurried to meet him. A glanceshowed Rod that a little longer and Mukoki would have dropped in histracks, as Wabi had done. The two led their faithful comrade to theheap of bearskins on the mail sled and made him sit there while freshsoup was being made. 

"You catch heem, " grinned Mukoki joyously. "You catch heem--queek!"

"And pretty nearly killed himself doing it, Muky, " added Rod. "Now--"he glanced from one to the other of his companions, "what is the firstthing to be done?" "We must strike for the Woonga trail without amoment of unnecessary delay, " declared Wabi. "Minutes are priceless, an hour lost or gained may mean everything!"

"But the dogs--"

"You can take mine, " interrupted the courier. "There are six of them, all good heavy fellows and not overly bushed. You can add a few ofyour own and I'll take what's left to drive on the mail. I wouldadvise you to rest for an hour or so and give them and yourselves agood feed. It'll count in the long run. "

Mukoki grunted his approval of the driver's words and Rod at oncebegan gathering more fuel for the fire. The temporary camp was soona scene of the liveliest activity. While the courier unpacked hisprovisions, Mukoki and Wabigoon assembled the teams and proceeded toselect three of the best of their own animals to put in harness withthose of the Hudson Bay mail. The dogs from Wabinosh House were wildlyfamished and at the sight and odor of the great piece of meat whichthe courier began cutting up for them they set up a snarling andsnapping of jaws, and began fighting indiscriminately among themselvesuntil the voices of their human companions were almost drowned in thetumult. A full pound of the meat was given to each dog, and otherpieces of it were suspended over beds of coals drawn out from the bigfire. Meanwhile Rod was chopping through the thick ice of the lake insearch of water. 

After a little Wabi came down to join him. 

"Our sledge is ready, " he said, as Rod stopped to rest for a moment. "We're a little short on grub for nine dogs and three people, butwe've got plenty of ammunition. We ought to find something on thetrail. "

"Rabbits, anyway, " suggested Rod, resuming his chopping. A few morestrokes, and water gushed through. Filling two pails the boys returnedto camp. 

The shadows from the sharp pointed cedars of the forest were fallingfar out upon the frozen lake when the meal was finished, and the sun, sinking early to its rest beyond the homeless solitudes, infused butlittle warmth as the three hunters prepared to leave. It was onlythree o'clock, but a penetrating chill was growing in the air. Halfan hour more and only a reddish glow would be where the northern sunstill shone feebly. In the far North winter night falls with theswiftness of wings; it enshrouds one like a palpable, moving thing, acurtain of gloom that can almost be touched and felt, and so it camenow, as the dogs were hitched to their sledge and Rod, Mukoki andWabigoon bade good-by to the driver of the Hudson Bay mail. 

"You'll make the other side in four hours, " he called, as Mukoki'scries sent the dogs trotting out upon the lake. "And then--I'd camp!"

Running on ahead Mukoki set the pace and marked the trail. Wabi tookthe first turn on the sledge, and Rod, who was fresher than either ofhis comrades, followed close behind. After a little he drew up besidethe young Indian and placed a hand on his shoulder as he ran. 

"We will reach our old camp--in the plain--to-morrow?" he questioned, between breaths. 

"To-morrow, " affirmed Wabi. "Mukoki will show us the shortest cut toit. After that, after we reach the camp, everything will depend uponyou. "

Rod fell behind in the path made by the sledge, and saved his breath. His mind was working as never before in his life. When they reachedthe camp in which the wounded Mukoki had lain after their escape fromthe Woongas, could he find the old trail where he had seen Minnetaki'sfootprints? He was quite sure of himself, and yet he was conscious ofan indefinable something growing in him as he noticed more and morewhat the sun had done that day. Was it nervousness, or fear? Surely hecould find the trail, even though it was almost obliterated! But hewished that it had been Mukoki or Wabigoon who had discovered it, either of whom, with the woodcraft instinct born in them, would havegone to it as easily as a fox to the end of a strong trail hidden inautumn leaves. If he did fail--He shuddered, even as he ran, as hethought of the fate that awaited Minnetaki. A few hours before he hadbeen one of the happiest youths in the world. Wabi's lovely littlesister, he had believed, was safe at Kenegami House; he had bade adieuto his friends at the Post; every minute after that had taken himnearer to that far city in the South, to his mother, and home. And nowso suddenly that he had hardly come to realize the situation he wasplunged into what gave promise of being the most thrilling and tragicadventure of his life. A few weeks more, when spring had come, hewould have returned to his friends accompanied by his mother, and theythree--Mukoki, Wabigoon and he--would have set out on their romanticquest for the lost gold-mine that had been revealed to them by theancient skeletons in the old cabin. Even as these visions were glowingin his brain there had come the interruption, the signal shots on thelake, the return of the dog mail, and now this race to save the lifeof Minnetaki!

In his eagerness he ran ahead of the sledge and urged Mukoki into afaster pace. Every ten minutes the one who rode exchanged place withone of the runners, so that there were intervals of rest for each twotimes an hour. Quickly the red glow over the southwestern forestsfaded away; the gloom grew thicker; far ahead, like an endless sheetlosing itself in a distant smother of blackness, stretched the ice andsnow of Lake Nipigon. There was no tree, no rock for guidance overthe trackless waste, yet never for an instant did Mukoki or Wabigoonfalter. The stars began burning brilliantly in the sky; far away thered edge of the moon rose over this world of ice and snow and forest, throbbing and palpitating like a bursting ball of fire, as one sees itnow and then in the glory of the great northern night. 

Tirelessly, mile after mile, hour after hour, broken only by theshort intervals of rest on the sledge, continued the race across LakeNipigon. The moon rose higher; the blood in it paled to the crimsonglow of the moose flower, and silvered as it climbed into the sky, until the orb hung like a great golden-white disk. In the splendor ofit the solitude of ice and snow glistened without end. There was nosound but the slipping of the sledge, the pattering of the dogs'moccasined feet, and now and then a few breathless words spoken by Rodor his companions. It was a little after eight o'clock by Rod's watchwhen there came a change in the appearance of the lake ahead of them. Wabi, who was on the sledge, was the first to notice it, and heshouted back his discovery to the white youth. 

"The forest! We're across!"

The tired dogs seemed to leap into new life at his words, and theleader replied with a whining joyous cry as the odors of balsam andfir came to him. The sharp pinnacles of the forest, reaching up intothe night's white glow, grew more and more distinct as the sledge spedon, and five minutes later the team drew up in a huddled, pantingbunch on the shore. That day the men and dogs from Wabinosh House hadtraveled sixty miles. 

"We'll camp here!" declared Wabi, as he dropped on the sledge. "We'llcamp here--unless you leave me behind!"

Mukoki, tireless to the last, had already found an ax. 

"No rest now, " he warned, "Too tired! You rest now--build no camp. Build camp--then rest!"

"You're right, Muky, " cried Wabi, jumping to his feet with forcedenthusiasm. "If I sit down for five minutes I'll fall asleep. Rod, youbuild a fire. Muky and I will make the shelter. "

In less than half an hour the balsam bough shelter was complete, andin front of it roared a fire that sent its light and heat for twentypaces round. From farther back in the forest the three dragged severalsmall logs, and no sooner had they been added to the flames than bothMukoki and Wabigoon wrapped themselves in their furs and burrowed deepinto the sweet-scented balsam under the shelter. Rod's experience thatday had not been filled with the terrible hardships of his companions, and for some time after they had fallen asleep he sat close to thefire, thinking again of the strangeness with which his fortunes hadchanged, and watching the flickering firelight as it played in athousand fanciful figures in the deeper and denser gloom of theforest. The dogs had crept in close to the blazing logs and lay asstill as though life no longer animated their tawny bodies. From faraway there came the lonely howl of a wolf; a great white man-owlfluttered close to the camp and chortled his crazy, half-human "hello, hello, hello;" the trees cracked with the tightening frost, butneither wolf howl nor frost nor the ghostly visitant's insane voicearoused those who were sleeping. 

An hour passed and still Rod sat by the fire; his rifle lying acrosshis knees. His imagination had painted a thousand pictures in thattime. Never for an instant had his mind ceased to work. Somewhere inthat great wilderness there was another camp-fire that night, and inthat camp Minnetaki was a captive. Some indefinable sensation seemedto creep into him, telling him that she was awake, and that she wasthinking of her friends. Was it a touch of sleep, or that wonderfulthing called mental telepathy, that wrought the next picture in hisbrain? It came with startling vividness. He saw the girl beside afire. Her beautiful hair, glistening black in the firelight, hung in aheavy braid over her shoulder; her eyes were staring wildly into theflames, as if she were about to leap into them, and back of her soclose that he might have touched her, was a figure that sent a chillof horror through him. It was Woonga, the outlaw chief! He wastalking, his red face was fiendish, he stretched out a hand!

With a cry that startled the dogs Rod sprang to his feet. He wasshivering as if in a chill. Had he dreamed? Or was it something morethan a dream? He thought of the vision that had come to him weeksbefore in the mysterious chasm, the vision of the dancing skeletons, and which had revealed the secret of the old cabin and the lost gold. In vain he tried to shake off his nervousness and his fear. Why hadWoonga reached out his hands for Minnetaki? He worked to free himselfof the weight that had fallen on him, stirred the fire until clouds ofsparks shot high up into the gloom of the trees, and added new fuel. 

Then he sat down again, and for the twentieth time since leavingWabinosh House drew from his pocket the map that was to have led themon their search for gold when he returned with his mother. It was avision that had guided him to the discovery of this precious map, andthe knowledge of it made him more uneasy now. A few moments before hehad seen Minnetaki as plainly as though she had been with him therebeside the fire; he fancied that he might almost have sent a bulletthrough the Indian's chief face as he reached out his long arms towardthe girl. 

He stirred the fire again, awakened one of the dogs to keep himcompany, and then went in to lie down between Mukoki and Wabigoon inan attempt at slumber. During the hours that followed he secured onlyshort snatches of sleep. He dreamed, dreamed constantly of Minnetakiwhenever he lost consciousness. Now he saw her before the fire, as hehad seen her in his vision; again, she was struggling in the Woonga'spowerful grasp. At one time the strife between the two--the young girland the powerful savage--became terrible for him to behold, and atlast he saw the Indian catch her in his arms and disappear into theblackness of the forest. 

This time when he wakened Rod made no further effort to sleep. It wasonly a little past midnight. His companions had obtained four hours ofrest. In another hour he would arouse them. Quietly he began makingpreparations for breakfast, and fed the dogs. At half-past one o'clockhe shook Wabigoon by the shoulder. 

"Get up!" he cried, as the Indian youth sat erect. "It's time to go!"

He tried to suppress his nervousness when Mukoki and Wabi joined himbeside the fire. He determined not to let them know of his visions, for there was gloom enough among them as it was. But he would hurry. He was the first to get through with breakfast, the first to set towork among the dogs, and when Mukoki started out at the head of theteam through the forest he was close beside him, urging him to greaterspeed by his own endeavors. 

"How far are we from the camp, Mukoki?" he asked. 

"Four hour--twent' mile, " replied the old pathfinder. 

"Twenty miles. We ought to make it by dawn. "

Mukoki made no answer, but quickened his pace as the cedar and balsamforest gave place to an open plain which stretched for a mile or twoahead of them. For an hour longer the moon continued to light up thewilderness; then, with its descent lower and lower into the west, thegloom began to thicken, until only the stars were left to guide thepursuers. Even these were beginning to fade when Mukoki halted thepanting team on the summit of a mountainous ridge, and pointed intothe north. 

"The plains!"

For several minutes the three stood silent, gazing out into the gloomof the vast solitudes that swept unbroken to Hudson Bay. Again Rod'sblood was thrilled with the romance of what lay at his feet and farbeyond, thrilled with the romance and mystery of that land of the wildwhich reached for hundreds of miles into the North, and into which thefoot of the white man had as yet scarce left its imprint. 

Before him, enveloped now in the deep gloom of the northern night, slept a vast unexplored world, a land whose story the passing ofages had left unrevealed. What tragedies of nature had its silentfastnesses beheld? What treasure did they hold? Half a century or moreago the men whose skeletons they had found in the old cabin had bravedthe perils of those trackless solitudes, and somewhere hundreds ofmiles out in that black gloom they had found gold, the gold thathad fallen as an inheritance to them in the discovery of the oldbirch-bark map. And somewhere, somewhere out there was Minnetaki!

Across the plain at their feet the three adventurers had raced fortheir lives from the bloodthirsty Woongas only a week or so before;now they crossed it a second time and at even greater speed, for thenthey had possessed no dogs. At the end of another hour Mukoki nolonger traveled faster than a walk. His eyes were constantly on thealert. Occasionally he would stop the dogs and strike off to the rightor the left of the trail alone. He spoke no word to his companions, and neither Rod nor Wabigoon offered a suggestion. They knew, withoutquestioning, that they were approaching their old camp, and just asthe experienced hunter makes no sign or sound while his dog is nosingout a half-lost trail so they held back while Mukoki, the most famouspathfinder in all those regions, led them slowly on. The last of thestars went out. For a time the blackness of the night grew deeper;then, in the southeast, came the first faint streak of dawn. Day isborn as suddenly as it dies in these regions, and it was soon lightenough for Mukoki to resume his trail at a trot. A few minutes moreand a clump of balsam and spruce loomed up out of the plain ahead ofthem. Neither Rod nor Wahigoon recognized it until the old warriorhalted the dogs close in its shadows and they saw the look of triumphin his face. 

"The camp!" breathed Wabi. 

"The camp!"

Trembling, his voice quivering with suppressed excitement, the Indianyouth turned to Roderick Drew. 

"Rod--it's all up to you!"

Mukoki, too, had come close to his side. 

"There--camp!" he whispered. "Now--where Minnetaki's trail?"

The old warrior's eyes were blazing. 

"Where?"

A dozen paces away was the balsam shelter they had built. But that wasall. Not a track was left in the snow. The warm sun had obliteratedevery sign of their presence of a short time before!

If their own trail was gone what could he hope to find of Minnetaki'sdainty foot-prints?

Deep down in his heart Rod prayed for guidance in this moment ofterrible doubt. 

CHAPTER IV

ROD FOLLOWS THE MAN-FOOTED BEAR

"I must wait until it is lighter, " he said. He tried to controlhimself, to fortify himself with the assurance which he no longerfelt. 

"We will have breakfast, " suggested Wabi. "We have cold meat and therewill be no need of a fire. "

Finishing before the others, Rod grasped his rifle and walked out fromamong the trees. Wabi made a movement as if to follow, but Mukoki heldhim back. There was a shrewd light in his eyes. 

"He do better--alone, " he warned. 

The red glow of the sun was rising above the forest and Rod could nowsee far about him. He had come out from the cedars, like this, on theafternoon that he had gone to hunt and had found Minnetaki's trail. Amile away he saw the snow-covered ridge where he had hunted for moose. That ridge was his first guide, and he hurried toward it while Mukokiand Wabigoon followed far behind him with the dogs and the sledge. He was breathless when he reached the top. Eagerly he gazed into theNorth. It was in that direction he had gone on the afternoon of hisdiscovery of the strange trail. But nothing that he recognized met hiseyes now, no familiar landmark or tree to guide him again over hiswandering footsteps of that day. Vainly he sought along the ridge forsome slight sign of his former presence there. But everything wasgone. The sun had destroyed his last hope. 

He was glad that Mukoki and Wabigoon were at the foot of the ridge, for he knew that his despair almost brought tears to his eyes, Minnetaki's fate was in his hands--and he had failed. He dreaded totell his companions, to let them see his face. For once in his life, though he was as courageous a youth as ever lived, Roderick Drewalmost wished that he was dead. 

Suddenly, as in their hopeless search for some familiar object Rod'seyes traveled again over the endless waste of snow, he saw, far away, something that glittered in the morning sun like a pane of glass, andfrom his lips there fell a low exultant cry. He remembered now that hehad seen that strange gleam before, that he had gone straight to itfrom the ridge and had found it to be a sheet of crystal ice frozento the side of a rock from above which the water of a spring gushedforth. Without waiting for his companions he hurried down theridge and sped like a deer across the narrow plain at its foot. Afive-minute run brought him to the rock, and for a moment he paused, his heart almost choking him in its excitement. Just beyond this hehad first encountered the strange trail. There were no signs of itleft in the snow, but he saw other things which led him on: a hugerock thrusting itself out of the chaos of white, a dead poplar whichstood in his path, and at last, half a mile ahead, the edge of a denseforest. 

He turned and waved his arms wildly to Mukoki and Wabigoon, who werefar behind. Then he ran on, and when he reached the forest he wavedhis arms again, and his joy was flung back in a thrilling shout to hiscomrades. There was the log on which Minnetaki had been forced to sitwhile awaiting the pleasure of her savage captors; he found the veryspot where her footprint had been in the snow, close to a protrudingstub! The outlaw Indians and their captives had rested here for abrief spell, and had built a fire, and so many feet had beaten thesnow about it that their traces still remained. 

He pointed to these signs as Mukoki and Wabigoon joined him. 

For several minutes no one of the three spoke a word. Crouched overuntil his eyes were within a foot of the snow the old pathfinderexamined every inch of the little clearing in which the Woongas hadbuilt their fire, and when at last he drew himself erect his facebetrayed the utmost astonishment. 

The boys saw that in those faint marks in the snow he had discoveredsomething of unusual if not startling significance. 

"What is it, Muky?" asked the young Indian. 

Mukoki made no reply, but returning to the charred remains of thefire he again fell upon his hands and knees and repeated his strangescrutiny of the snow even more closely than before. When he arose asecond time the astonishment had grown deeper in his face. 

"Only six!" he exclaimed. "Two guides from Post--four Woongas!"

"But the wounded driver told us that there were at least a dozenWoongas in the attacking party, " said Wabi. 

The old warrior chuckled, and for a moment his face twisted itselfinto a ludicrous grimace. 

"Driver lie!" he declared. "He run when fight begin. Shot in backwhile heem run!"

He pointed into the cold depths of the forest. 

"No sun there! Follow trail easy!"

There was no uneasiness in Mukoki's manner now. His eyes gleamed, butit was with the fire of battle and resolution, not with excitement. Once before Rod had seen that look in the old warrior's face, whenthey two had fought to save Wabigoon's life as they were now about tofight to save Minnetaki. And he knew what it meant. Cautiously theypenetrated the forest, their eyes and ears alert, and, as Mukoki hadpredicted, the trail of the retreating savages was quite distinct. They had taken both of the captured sledges, and Rod knew that on oneof these Minnetaki was being carried. Hardly had the three progresseda hundred paces when Mukoki, who was in the lead, stopped short witha huge grunt. Squarely across the trail lay the body of a dead man. Aglance at the upturned face showed that it was one of the two driversfrom Wabinosh House. 

"Head split, " said Mukoki, as he led the team around the body. "Shot, mebby--then killed with ax. "

The dogs sniffed and cringed as they passed the slain man, and Rodshuddered. Involuntarily he thought of what might have happened toMinnetaki, and he noticed that after passing this spectacle of deathMukoki doubled his speed. For an hour the pursuit continued withoutinterruption. The Woongas were traveling in a narrow trail, singlefile, with the two sledges between their number. At the end of thathour the three came upon the remains of another camp-fire near whichwere built two cedar-bough shelters. Here the tracks in the snow weremuch fresher; in places they seemed to have been but lately made. Still there were no evidences of the captured girl. The boys could seethat Mukoki himself had found no explanation for the sudden freshnessof the trail and for the absence of Minnetaki's footprints among thetracks. Again and again the shrewd old pathfinder went over the camp. Not a sign escaped his eyes, not a mark or a broken stick but that wasexamined by him. Rod knew that Minnetaki's capture must have occurredat least three days before, and yet the tracks about this camp werenot more than a day old, if they were that. What did it mean?

The very mystery of the thing filled him with a nameless fear. Why hadnot the outlaw Woongas continued their flight? Why this delay so nearthe scene of their crime? He glanced at Wabi, but the Indian youth wasas bewildered as himself. In his eyes, too, there was the gleam of afear which he could not have named. 

Mukoki was beside the charred remains of the fire. He had buried hishand deep among them, and when he rose be made a sign toward Rod'swatch. 

"Eight o'clock, Mukoki. "

"Woonga here las' night, " declared the old Indian slowly. "Leave campfour hour ago!"

What did it mean?

Had Minnetaki been hurt, so dangerously hurt that her captors had notdared to move her?

Rod asked himself no more questions. But he was trembling. And Mukokiand Wabigoon went on with strange, unnatural faces and breathed notthe whisper of a word between them. The mystery was beyond them all. But one thing they realized, whatever had happened they were closeupon the heels of the savages. And each step brought them nearer, for with every mile the freshness of the trail increased. Then cameanother great surprise. 

The trail divided!

At the edge of a small opening the Indians had separated themselvesinto two parties. The trail of one sledge led into the northeast, thatof the other into the northwest!

With which sledge was Minnetaki? They looked at one another inbewilderment. 

Mukoki pointed to the trail into the northeast. 

"We must fin' sign--sign of Minnetaki. You take that--I take this!"

Rod started off at a dog trot over the easternmost trail. At thefarther side of the opening, where the sledge had plunged into a clumpof hazel, he suddenly stopped, and for a second time that morninga thrilling cry escaped his lips. On a projecting thorny twig, glistening full in the sun, there fluttered a long, silken strand ofhair. He reached out for it, but Wabi caught his hand, and in anothermoment Mukoki had joined them. Gently he took the raven tress betweenhis fingers, his deep-set eyes glaring like red coals of fire. It wasa strand of Minnetaki's beautiful hair, not for a moment did one ofthem doubt that; but what held them most, what increased the horror intheir eyes, was the quantity of it! Suddenly Mukoki gave it a gentlepull and the tress slipped free of the twig. 

In the next breath he uttered the only expression of supreme disgustin his vocabulary a long-drawn, hissing sound which he used only inthose moments when his command of English was entirely inadequate tothe situation. 

"Minnetaki on other sledge!"

He showed the end of the strand to his young companions. 

"See--hair been cut! No pulled out by, twig. Woonga hang heemthere--make us think wrong. "

He waited for no reply, but darted back to the other trail, with Wabiand Rod close behind him. A quarter of a mile farther on the oldpathfinder paused and pointed in exultant silence at a tiny footprintclose beside the path of the sledge. At almost regular intervals nowthere appeared this sign of Minnetaki's moccasin. Her two guards wererunning ahead of the sledge, and it was apparent to the pursuers thatWabi's sister was taking advantage of her opportunities to leave thesesigns behind for those whom she knew would make an attempt at herrescue. And yet, as they left farther and farther behind them thetrail which ran into the northeast, an inexplicable feeling ofuneasiness began to steal over Rod. What if Mukoki had made a mistake?His confidence in the old warrior's judgment and sagacity was usuallyabsolute, but it occurred to him, like an ugly humor to stir up hisfears, that if the Woongas could cut off a bit of the girl's hair theycould also take off one of her shoes! Several times he was on thepoint of giving audible voice to his suspicions but refrained fromdoing so when he saw the assurance with which both Wabi and Mukokifollowed the trail. 

Finally he could hold himself no longer. 

"Wabi, I'm going back, " he cried softly, forging alongside hiscompanion. "I'm going back and follow the other trail. If I don't findanything in a mile or so I'll return on the double-quick and overtakeyou!"

Wabi's efforts to dissuade him were futile, and a few minutes laterRod was again at the clearing. What presentiment was it that causedhis heart to beat faster and his breath to come in tense excitement ashe stole through the bushes where they had found the silken tress ofhair? What something was it, away down in his soul, that kept urginghim on and on, even after he had gone a mile, and then two miles, infruitless search? Rod could not have answered these questions had hestopped to ask them of himself. He was not superstitious. He did notbelieve in dreams. And yet each moment, without apparent reason addedto his conviction that Mukoki had made a mistake, and that Minnetakiwas on the sledge ahead of him. 

The country into which he was penetrating grew wilder. Rocky ridgesrose before him, split by rifts and gullies through which the watermust have rushed in torrents in the spring. He listened, and proceededmore cautiously; and through his mind there flashed a memory of histhrilling exploration of the mysterious chasm of a few weeks before, when, in his lonely night camp, he had dreamed of the skeletons. Hewas thinking of this when he came around the end of a huge rock whichlay as big as a house in his path. Upon the snow, almost at his feet, was a sight that froze the blood in his veins. For the second timethat day he gazed upon the distorted features of a dead man. Squarelyacross the trail, as the other had lain, was the body of an Indian, his arms outstretched, his twisted face turned straight up to theclear sky, the snow about his head glistening a sickening red in thesun. For a full minute Rod gazed in silent horror on the scene. Therewas no sign of a struggle, there were no footprints in the snow. Theman had been killed while upon the sledge, and the only mark he hadmade was when he had fallen off. 

Who had killed him?

Had Minnetaki saved herself by taking her captor's life?

For a moment Rod was almost convinced that this was so. He examinedthe stains in the snow and found that they were still damp andunfrozen. He was sure that the tragedy had occurred less than an hourbefore. More cautiously, and yet swifter than before, he followed thetrail of the sledge, his rifle held in readiness for a shot atany moment. The path became wilder and in places it seemed almostinaccessible. But between the tumbled mass of rock the sledge hadfound its way, its savage driver not once erring in his choice of theopenings ahead. Gradually the trail ascended until it came to thesummit of a huge ridge. Hardly had Rod reached the top when anothertrail cut across that of the sledge. 

Deeply impressed in the softening snow were the footprints of a bigbear!

The first warm sunshine, thought Rod, had aroused the beast from hiswinter sleep, and he was making a short excursion from his den. Fromwhere the bear had crossed the trail the sledge turned abruptly in thedirection from which the bear had come. 

Without giving a thought to his action, Rod began his descent of theridge in the trail made by the bear, at the same time keeping his eyesfixed upon the sledge track and the distant forest. At the foot of theridge the great trunk of a fallen tree lay in his path, and as he wentto climb over it he stopped, a cry of amazement stifling itself in histhroat. Over that tree the bear had scrambled, and upon it, close tothe spot where the animal had brushed off the snow in his passage, wasthe imprint of a human hand!

For a full minute Rod stood as motionless as if he had been paralyzed, scarcely breathing in his excitement. The four fingers and thumb ofthe hand had left their impressions with startling clearness. Thefingers were long and delicately slender, the palm narrow. The imprinthad assuredly not been made by the hand of a man!

Recovering himself, Rod looked about him. There were no marks in thesnow except those of the bear. Was it possible that he was mistaken?He scrutinized the mysterious handprint again. As he gazed an uncannychill crept through him, and when he raised his head he knew that hewas trembling in spite of his efforts to control himself. Turningabout he swiftly followed the trail to the top of the ridge, recrossedthe sledge track, and descended again into the wildness of the gorgeon the other side. He had not progressed twenty rods when without asound he dropped behind a rock. He had seen no movement ahead of him. He had heard nothing. Yet in that moment he was thrilled as neverbefore in his life. 

For the bear trail had ceased. 

And ahead of him, instead of the tracks of a beast, there continued_the footprints of a man_!

CHAPTER V

ROD'S FIGHT FOR LIFE

It was some time before Roderick moved from his concealment behind therock. It was not fear that held him there, but a knowledge withinhim that he needed to think, to collect his senses as he would haveexpressed it if Wabi had been with him. For a brief spell he wasstunned by the succession of surprises which he had encountered, andhe felt that now, if ever in his life, he needed control of himself. He did not attempt to solve the mystery of the trail beyond the factthat it was not made by a bear and that the handprint on the logwas not made by a man. But he was certain of one thing. In some wayMinnetaki was associated with both. 

When he continued his pursuit he made his way with extreme caution. Ateach new turn in the trail he fell behind some rock or clump of bushesand scanned the gorge as far as he could see ahead of him. But eachmoment these distances of observation became shorter. The ridge on hisleft became almost a sheer wall; on his right a second ridge closedin until the gorge had narrowed to a hundred feet in width, choked byhuge masses of rock thrown there in some mighty upheaval of past ages. It was very soon apparent to Rod that the mysterious person whom hewas pursuing was perfectly at home in the lonely chasm. As straight asa drawn whip-lash his trail led from one break in the rocky chaos toanother. Never did he err. Once the tracks seemed to end squarelyagainst a broad face of rock, but there the young hunter found a cleftin the granite wall scarcely wider than his body, through which hecautiously wormed his way. Where this cleft opened into the chasmagain the fugitive had rested for a few moments, and had placed someburden upon the snow at his feet. A single glance disclosed whatthis burden had been, for in the snow was that same clearly-definedimpression of a human hand!

There was no longer a doubt in Roderick's mind. He was on the trailof Minnetaki's captor, and the outlaw was carrying his victim in hisarms! Minnetaki was injured! Perhaps she was dead. The fear gripped athis heart until he looked again at the imprint in the snow--the widelyspread fingers, the flat, firm palm. Only a living hand would haveleft its mark in that manner. 

As on that autumn day in the forest, when he had fought forMinnetaki's life, so now all hesitation and fear left him. His bloodleaped with anticipation rather than excitement, and he was eager forthe moment when he would once more throw his life in the balance inbehalf of Wabi's sister. He was determined to take advantage of theWoonga fighting code and fire upon his enemy from ambush if theopportunity offered, but at the same time he had no dread at thethought of engaging in a closer struggle if this should be necessary. He looked well to his rifle, loosened his big army revolver in itsholster, and saw that his hunting-knife did not stick in its scabbard. A short distance from the cleft in the wall of rock the outlaw hadrested again; and this time, when he continued his flight, Minnetakihad walked beside him. 

A peculiarity in the new trail struck Rod, and for some moments he wasat a loss to account for it. One of the girl's dainty feet left itsmoccasin imprint very distinctly; the mark of the other was no morethan a formless blotch in the snow. Then the youth thought of thefootprints that were leading on Mukoki and Wabigoon, and despite hisdesperate situation he could not repress a smile. He had been right. The Woongas had taken off one of Minnetaki's moccasins and were usingit to make a false trail into the northwest. Those formless tracksahead of him meant that one of the Indian maiden's feet was wrappedwith a bit of cloth or fur to protect it from the cold. 

Rod soon perceived that the flight of the outlaw and his captive wasnow much more rapid, and he quickened his own pace. The chasm grewwilder. At times it appeared impassable, but always the trail of thefugitives led straight to some hidden cleft through which the boyfollowed, holding his breath in tense expectancy of what might happenat any instant. 

Suddenly Rod stopped. From ahead of him he was sure that he had hearda sound. He scarcely breathed while he listened. But there came norepetition of the noise. Had some animal, a fox or a wolf, perhaps, set a stone rolling down one of the precipitous walls of the chasm? Hewent on slowly, listening, watching. A few paces more and he stoppedagain. There was a faint, suspicious odor in the air; a turn aroundthe end of a huge mass of rock and his nostrils were filled with it, the pungent odor of smoke mingled with the sweet scent of burningcedar!

There was a fire ahead of him. More than that, it was not a gunshotaway!

For a space of sixty seconds he stood still, nerving himself for thefinal step. His resolution was made. He would creep upon the outlawand shoot him down. There would be no warning, no quarter, no parley. Foot by foot he advanced, as stealthily as a fox. The odor of smokecame to him more plainly; over his head he saw thin films of itfloating lazily up the chasm. It came from beyond another of thosewalls of rock which seemed to bar his way, creeping up over it asthough the fire were just on the other side. With his rifle half tohis shoulder Rod stole through the break in this wall. At its fartherend he peered out cautiously, exposing his face an inch at a time. Wider and wider became his vision. There was no trail ahead. Theoutlaw and his captive were behind the rock!

With his rifle now full to his shoulder Rod stepped boldly forth andwhirled to the left. Twenty feet away, almost entirely concealed amongthe tumbled masses of boulders, was a small cabin. About it there wereno signs of life with the exception of a thin wreath of smoke risinglike a ghostly spiral up the side of the chasm wall; from it therecame no sound. Rod's index finger quivered on the trigger of hisrifle. Should he wait--until the outlaw came forth? Half a minute hestood there, a minute, two minutes, and still he heard nothing, sawnothing. He advanced a step, then another, and still another, untilhe saw the open door of the cabin. And as he stood there, his rifleleveled, there came to him a faint, sobbing cry, a cry that reachedout and caught him like a strong hand and brought him in a singledesperate leap to the door itself. 

Inside the cabin was Minnetaki, alone! She was crouched upon thefloor, her beautiful hair tumbling in disheveled masses over hershoulders and into her lap, her face, as white as death, staringwildly at the youth who had appeared like an apparition before her. 

In an instant Rod was at her side, upon his knees. For that briefmoment he had lost his caution, and only a terrible cry from the girlturned him back again, half upon his feet, to the door. Standingthere, about to spring upon him, was one of the most terrifyingfigures he had ever seen. In a flash he saw the huge form of anIndian, a terrible face, the gleam of an uplifted knife. In such acrisis one's actions are involuntary, machine-like, as if life itself, hovering by a thread, protects itself in its own manner withoutthought or reasoning on the part of the human creature it animates. Rod neither thought nor reasoned; without any motive on his own part, he flung himself face downward upon the cabin floor. And the movesaved him. With a guttural cry the savage leaped toward him, struckout with his knife and missed, stumbled over the boy's prostrate formand fell beside him. 

Months of hardship and adventure in the wilderness had made Rod aslithe as a forest cat, his muscles like steel. Without rising he flunghimself upon his enemy, his own knife raised in gleaming death abovethe savage's breast. But the Woonga was as quick. Like a flash hestruck up with one of his powerful arms and the force of the blow thatwas descending upon him fell to the earth floor. In another instanthis free arm had encircled Rod's neck, and for a few brief moments thetwo were locked in a crushing embrace, neither being able to use theweapon in his hand without offering an advantage to the other. 

In that respite, which only death could follow, Rod's brain workedwith the swiftness of fire. He was lying face downward upon his enemy;the Woonga was flat upon his back, the latter's knife hand stretchedout behind his head with Rod's knife hand locking it. For either tostrike a blow both of their fighting hands must be freed. In the firstinstant of that freedom, the savage, with his arm already extended, could deliver a blow sooner than his antagonist, who would have toraise his arm as well as strike. In other words, by the time Rod'sknife was poised his enemy's would be buried in his breast. With acurious thrill the white youth saw the fearful odds against him intheir position. If he remained clutched in the Indian's embrace therewould be only one end. He would die, and Minnetaki would be more thanever in the power of her captor. 

There was only one chance now, and that was to break away, at leastto free himself enough to get hold of his revolver. He was nervinghimself for the strain when, turning his head a trifle sidewise, hesaw Minnetaki. The girl had risen to her feet, and Rod saw that herhands were bound behind her. She, too, realized the disadvantage ofRod's position in the contest, and now with a thrilling cry she sprangto the outlaw's head and stepped with all her weight upon his extendedarm. 

"Quick, Rod--quick!" she cried. "Strike! Strike!"

With a terrible yell the powerful savage wrenched his arm free; in alast superhuman effort he swung his knife upward as Rod's blade sankto the hilt in his breast, and the blow fell with a sickening thudunder Rod's arm. With a sharp cry the young hunter staggered to hisfeet, and the Indian's knife fell from him, red with blood. Makingan effort to control himself he picked up the knife and loosed thecaptive girl's arms. 

There came over him then a strange dizziness, a weakness in his limbs. He was conscious that his head was sinking, and he knew, too, that apair of arms was about him, and that from what seemed to be a great, great distance a voice was calling to him, calling his name. And thenhe seemed to be sinking into a deep and painless sleep. 

When he regained consciousness his eyes were first turned to the door, which was still open, and through which he caught the white gleam ofthe snow. A hand was pressed gently upon his face. 

"Rod--"

Minnetaki spoke in a whisper, a whisper that trembled with gladness, with relief. Rod smiled. Weakly he lifted a hand and touched thesweet, white face above him. 

"I'm glad to see you--Minnetaki--" he breathed. 

The girl quickly put a cup of cold water to his lips. 

"You mustn't try to move, " she said softly, her eyes glowing. "Itisn't a very bad wound, and I've dressed it nicely. But you mustn'tmove--or talk--or it may begin bleeding again. "

"But I'm so glad to see you, Minnetaki, " persisted the youth. "Youdon't know how disappointed I was to find you gone when we returned toWabinosh House from our hunting trip. Wabi and Mukoki--"

"Sh-h-h-h!"

Minnetaki placed her hand upon his lips. 

"You must keep quiet, Roderick. Don't you know how curious I am toknow how you are here? But you must not tell me--now. Let me do thetalking. Will you? Please!"

Involuntarily the young girl's eyes left his face, and Rod, weaklyfollowing her gaze, saw that a blanket had been spread over a huddledheap in the middle of the floor. He shuddered, and feeling the suddentremor in his hand Minnetaki turned to him quickly, her cheeks whiterthan before, but her eyes shining like stars. 

"It is Woonga, " she whispered. In her voice was a thrilling tremble. "It is Woonga, and he is dead!"

Rod understood the look in her face now. Woonga, the Nemesis of herpeople, the outlaw chief who had sworn vengeance on the house ofWabinosh, and whose murderous hand had hovered for years like athreatening cloud over the heads of the factor and his wife andchildren, was dead! And he, Roderick Drew, who once before had savedMinnetaki's life, had killed him. In his weakness and pain he smiled, and said, "I am glad, Minne--"

He did not finish. There had come a stealthy, crumbling step to thedoor, and in another moment Mukoki and Wabigoon were in the littlecabin. 

CHAPTER VI

THE SHADOW OF DEATH

Rod was hardly conscious of what passed during the next half-hour. Theexcitement of the sudden entrance of Minnetaki's brother and the oldIndian set his head reeling, and he sank back upon the blankets, fromwhich he had partly raised himself, fainting and weak. The last thathe heard was Minnetaki's warning voice, and then he felt somethingcool upon his face. It seemed a long time before he heard sound again, and when he stirred himself, struggling toward consciousness, therecame a whisper in his ear urging him to be quiet. It was Minnetaki, and he obeyed. 

After a little he heard low voices, and then movement, and opened hiseyes. He could feel Minnetaki's gentle hand stroking his face andhair, as if weaning him to sleep, and at his feet he saw Mukoki, theold warrior, crouching like a lynx, his beady eyes glaring at him. Theglare fascinated Roderick. He had seen it in Mukoki's eyes before, when the Indian believed that injury had come to those he loved; andwhen the white boy saw it now, bent upon himself, he knew that he, too, had become more than a friend to this savage pathfinder of thewilderness. Minnetaki's caressing hand and the fearful anxiety in thecrouching posture of the old hunter thrilled him, and two words fellfrom his lips before they knew that he had come back into life. 

"Hello, Muky!"

Instantly the old Indian was at his side, kneeling there silent, trembling, his face twitching with joy, his eyes gleaming, and wherehe had crouched a moment before there came Wabigoon, smiling down uponRod in his own bursting happiness, which was only held in check byMinnetaki's hand and the almost inaudible "Sh-h-h-h!" that fell fromher lips. 

"You right--me wrong, " the white boy heard Mukoki saying. "You saveMinnetaki--kill Woonga. Very much dam'--dam'--dam'--brave man!"

Mukoki was pressed back by Wabi's sister before he could say more, anda cool drink of spring water was placed to Roderick's lips. He feltfeverish and the water gave him new strength. He turned his face toMinnetaki, and she smiled at him. Then he saw that the dead outlaw hadbeen removed from the cabin. When he made an effort to raise himself alittle the girl helped him, and rolled a blanket under his shoulders. 

"You're not so badly hurt as I thought you were, Rod, " she said. "Thatis, you're not dangerously hurt. Mukoki has dressed your wound, andyou will be better soon. " Wabigoon, coming nearer, put both armsaround his lovely little sister and kissed her again and again. 

"Rod, you're a hero!" he cried softly, gripping his comrade's hand. "God bless you!"

Rod blushed, and to restrain further effusions closed his eyes. Duringthe next quarter of an hour Minnetaki prepared some coffee and meat, while both Mukoki and Wabi cared for the sledge-dogs outside. 

"To-morrow, if you are stronger, we're going to take you on toKenegami House, " the girl said to him. "Then you can tell me all aboutyour adventures during the winter. Wabi has told me just enough aboutyour battles with the Indians and about the old skeletons and the lostgold-mine to set me wild. Oh, I wish you would take me with you onyour hunt for gold!"

"By George, I wish we could!" exclaimed Rod with enthusiasm. "CoaxWabi, Minnetaki--coax him hard. "

"You'll coax him, too, won't you, Rod? But then, I don't suppose itwill do any good. And father and mother wouldn't listen to it for amoment. All of them are so afraid that some harm is going to befallme. That's why they sent me from Wabinosh House just before you boysreturned. You see the Indians were more hostile than ever, and theythought I would be safer at Kenegami House. How I do wish they'd letme go! I'd love to hunt bears, and wolves, and moose, and help youfind the gold. Please coax him hard, Roderick!"

And that very day, when he was strong enough to sit up, Rod did pleadwith his half-Indian comrade that Minnetaki might be allowed toaccompany them. But Wabi stanchly refused even to consider theproposition, and Mukoki, when he learned of the girl's desire, grinnedand chuckled in his astonishment for the next half-hour. 

"Minnetaki ver' brave--ver' brave girl, " he confided to Rod, "but shedie up there, I guess so! You want Minnetaki die?"

Rod assured him that he did not, and the subject was dropped. 

That day and night in the old cabin was one of the pleasantest withinRod's memory, despite the youth's wound. A cheerful fire of dry pineand poplar burned in the stone fireplace, and when Minnetaki announcedthat the evening meal was ready Rod was for the first time allowed toleave his bunk. For the greater part of the day Wabi and Mukoki hadsearched in the chasm and along the mountains for signs of the outlawIndian's band, but their search had revealed nothing to arouse theirfears. As mysterious and unaccountable as the fact seemed, therewas no doubt that the old cabin was a retreat known only to Woongahimself, and as the four sat in the warm glow of the fire, eating anddrinking, the whole adventure was gone over again and again untilthere seemed no part of it left in doubt. Minnetaki described hercapture and explained the slowness of their flight after the massacre. Woonga was ill and had refused to move far from the scene of theslaughter until he had fully regained his strength. 

"But why did Woonga kill the Indian back on the trail?" asked Rod. 

Minnetaki shuddered as she thought of the terrible scene that had beenenacted before her eyes. 

"I heard them quarreling, " she said, "but I couldn't understand. Iknow that it was about me. We had gone but a short distance after thesledges separated when Woonga, who was ahead of me, turned about andshot the other in the breast. It was terrible! And then he drove on ascoolly as though nothing had happened. "

"I'm curious to know how he used the bear's feet, " exclaimed Rod. 

"They were huge pads into which he slipped his feet, moccasins andall, " explained Minnetaki. "He told me that the dogs would go on toKenegami House, and that if pursuers followed us they would follow thesledge trail and never give a thought to the bear tracks. "

Mukoki chuckled deep down in his throat. 

"He no fool Rod, " he said. "Nobody fool Rod!"

"Especially when he's on Minnetaki's trail, " laughed Wabi happily. 

"Wasn't it Rod who discovered the secret of the lost gold, after youhad given up all hope?" retorted Minnetaki. 

The lost gold!

How those three words, falling clearly from the girl's lips, thrilledthe hearts of Mukoki and the young adventurers. Night had closed in, and only the fitful flashes of the fire illumined the interior of theold cabin. The four had finished eating, and as they drew themselvesclose about the fire there fell a strange silence among them. The lostgold. Rod gazed across at Wabigoon, whose bronzed face was half hid inthe dancing shadows, and then at Mukoki, whose wrinkled visage shonelike dull copper as he stared like some watchful animal into the flameglow. But it was Minnetaki who sent the blood in a swift rush of joyand pride through his veins. He caught her eyes upon him, shining likestars from out of the gloom, and he knew that she was looking at himin that way because he was her hero. 

For many minutes no one broke the stillness. The fire burned down, andwith its slow dying away the gloom in the corners of the old cabinthickened, and the faces became more and more like ghostly shadows, until they reminded Rod of his first vision of the ancient skeletonsin that other old cabin many miles away. Then came Wabigoon's voice, as he stirred the coals and added fresh fuel. 

"Yes, it was Rod. This is the map he found, Minnetaki. "

He kneeled close beside his sister and drew forth his copy of theprecious secret which the skeletons had guarded. With a little cryof excitement the girl took the map in her hands, and step by step, adventure by adventure, was gone over the thrilling story of the WolfHunters, until the late hours of night had changed into the first ofmorning. Twice did Minnetaki insist on having repeated to her thestory of Rod's wild adventure in the mysterious chasm, and when hecame to the terrors of that black night and its strange sounds Rodfelt a timid little hand come close to him, and as Wabigoon continuedthe narration, and told of the map in the skeleton hand, and of thetale of murder and tragedy it revealed, Minnetaki's breath came inquick, tense eagerness. 

"And you are going back in the spring?" she asked. 

"In the spring, " replied Rod. 

Again Wabigoon urged Rod, as he had done at the Post, to send down tocivilization for his mother instead of going for her himself. Timewould be saved, he argued. They could set out on their search for thegold within a few weeks. But Rod was firm. 

"It would not be fair to mother, " he declared. "I must go home first, even if I have to arrange for a special sledge at Kenegami House totake me down to civilization. "

But even while he was stoutly declaring what it was his intention todo, fate was stealthily at work weaving another of her webs of destinyfor Roderick Drew, and his friends' anxious eyes saw the first signsof it when they bade him good night. For fever had laid its hand onthe white youth, the fever that foreshadows death unless a surgeonis near, the fever of a wound going bad. Even Mukoki, graduated byNature, taught by half a century's battle with life in this greatdesolation of the North, knew that his own powers were now of noavail. 

So Roderick was bundled in blankets, and the race for life to KenegamiHouse was begun. It was a race of which Rod could only guess theimport, for he did not know that Death was running a fierce pursuitbehind. Many days and nights of delirium followed. One morning heseemed to awaken from a terrible dream, in which he was constantlyburning and roasting, and when he opened his eyes he knew for thefirst time that it was Minnetaki who sat close beside him, and that itwas her hand that was gently stroking his forehead. From that day onhe gained strength rapidly, but it was a month before he could sit up, and another two weeks before he could stand. And so it happened thatit was full two months after he had made his assertion in the oldcabin before Rod was in good health again. 

One day Minnetaki had a tremendous surprise in store for him. Rod hadnever seen her look quite so pretty, or quite so timid, as she did onthis particular morning. 

"Will you forgive me for--for--keeping something from you, Rod?" sheasked. She did not wait for the boy's reply, but went on. "When youwere so sick, and we thought you might die, I wrote to your mother andwe sent the letter down by a special sledge. And--and--oh, Rod, I justcan't keep it in any longer, no matter if you do scold me! Your motherhas come--and she is at Wabinosh House now!"

For a moment Rod stood like one struck dumb. Then he found his voicein a series of war-whoops which quickly brought Wabi in, only to seehis friend dancing around Minnetaki like one gone crazy. 

"Forgive you!" he shouted again and again. "Minnetaki, you're abrick--you certainly are a brick!"

As soon as Wabi was made acquainted with the cause of Roderick'sexcitement he also joined in the other's wild rejoicing, and theirantics startled half the house of Kenegami. Mukoki shared their joy, and Wabi hugged and kissed his sister until her pretty face was like awild rose. 

"Hurrah!" shouted Wabi for the twentieth time. "That means we start onour hunt for the lost gold-mine within a fortnight!"

"It means--" began Roderick. 

"It means--" interrupted Minnetaki, "it means that you're all happybut me--and I'm glad for Rod's sake, and I want to know his mother. But you're all going--and I'm to be left behind!"

There was no laughter in her voice, and Rod and Wabigoon becamesuddenly quiet as she turned away. 

"I'm sorry, " said Wabi. "But--we can't help it. "

Mukoki broke the tension. 

"How bright the sun shine!" he exclaimed. "Snow an' ice go. Spring--heem here!"

CHAPTER VII

ON THE TRAIL OF GOLD

And each day thereafter the sun rose earlier, and the day was longer, and the air was warmer; and with the warmth there now came the sweetscents of the budding earth and the myriad sounds of the deep, unseenlife of the forests, awakening from its long slumber in its bed ofsnow. The moose-birds chirped their mating songs and flirted frommorning till night in bough and air, and the jays and ravens fluffedthemselves in the sun, and the snowbirds, little black and whitebeauties that were wont to whisk about like so many flashing gems, became fewer and fewer, until they were gone altogether. The poplarbuds swelled more and more in their joy, until they split likeover-fat peas, and the partridges feasted upon them. 

And Mother Bear came out of her winter den, accompanied by her littleones born two months before, and taught them how to pull down theslender saplings for these same buds; and the moose came down from theblizzardy tops of the great ridges, which are called mountains in theNorth, and where for good reasons they had passed the winter, followedby the wolves, who fed upon their weak and sick. Everywhere there werethe rushing torrents of melting snows, the crackle of crumbling ice, the dying frost-cries of rock and earth and tree, and each night thecold, pale glow of the Aurora Borealis crept farther and farthertoward the Pole in fading glory. 

It was spring, and at Wabinosh House it brought more joy thanelsewhere, for there Roderick Drew joined his mother. We have not timehere to dwell on the things that happened at the old Hudson Bay Postduring the ten days after their first happy reunion--of the love thatsprang up between Rod's mother and Minnetaki, and the princess wifeof George Newsome, the factor; of the departure of the soldiers whosetask of running down Woonga ended with Rod's desperate fight in thecabin, or of the preparations of the gold hunters themselves. 

On a certain evening in April, Wabi, Mukoki and Rod had assembled inthe latter's room. The next morning they were to start on their longand thrilling adventure into the far North, and on this last nightthey went carefully over their equipment and plans to see that nothinghad been forgotten. That night Rod slept little. For the second timein his life the fever of adventure was running wild in his blood. After the others had gone he studied the precious old map until hiseyes grew dim; in the half slumber that came to him afterward hisbrain worked ceaselessly, and he saw visions of the romantic old cabinagain, and the rotting buckskin bag filled with nuggets of gold on thetable. 

He was up before the stars began fading in the dawn, and in the bigdining-room of the Post, in which had gathered the factors and theirfamilies for two hundred years, the boys ate their last breakfast withthose whom they were about to leave for many weeks, perhaps months. The factor himself was boisterously cheerful in his efforts to keepup the good cheer of Mrs. Drew and the princess mother, and evenMinnetaki forced herself to smile, and laugh, though her eyes werered, and all knew that she had been crying. Rod was glad when the mealwas over and they went out into the chill air of the morning, and downto the edge of the lake, where their big birch-bark canoe was loadedand waiting for their departure, and he was still more relieved whenthey had bade a last good-by to the two mothers. But Minnetaki camedown to the canoe with them, and when Wabi kissed her she burst intotears, and Rod felt a queer thickening in his throat as he took herfirm little hand and held it for a moment between both his own. 

"Good-by, Minnetaki, " he whispered. 

He turned and took his position in the middle of the canoe, and with alast shout Wabi shoved off and the canoe sped out into the gloom. 

For a long time there was silence, except for the rhythmic dip of thethree paddles. Once Minnetaki's voice came to them faintly, and theyanswered it with a shout. But that was all. After a time Rod said, "By George, this saying good-by is the toughest part of the wholebusiness!"

His words cleared away the feeling of oppression that seemed to havefallen on them. 

"It's always hard for me to leave Minnetaki, " replied Wabigoon. "Someday I'm going to take her on a trip with me. "

"She'd be a bully fellow!" cried Rod with enthusiasm. 

From the stern of the canoe came a delighted chuckle from Mukoki. 

"She brave--she shoot, she hunt, she be dam' fine!" he added, andboth Rod and Wabi burst out laughing. The young Indian looked at hiscompass by the light of a match. 

"We'll strike straight across Lake Nipigon instead of following theshore. What do you say, Muky?" he called back. 

The old pathfinder was silent. In surprise Wabi ceased paddling, andrepeated his question. 

"Don't you think it is safe?"

Mukoki wet his hand over the side and held it above his head. 

"Wind in south, " he said. "Maybe no get stronger, but--"

"If she did, " added Rod dubiously, noting how heavily laden the canoewas, "we'd be in a fix, as sure as you live!"

"It will take us all of to-day and half of to-morrow to follow theshore, " urged Wabi, "while by cutting straight across the lake we canmake the other side early this afternoon. Let's risk it!"

Mukoki grunted something that was a little less than approval, and Rodfelt a peculiar sensation shoot through him as the frail birch headedout into the big lake. Their steady strokes sent the canoe through thewater at fully four miles an hour, and by the time broad day had comethe forest-clad shore at Wabinosh House was only a hazy outline in thedistance. The white youth's unspoken fears were dispelled when the sunrose, warm and glorious, over the shimmering lake, driving the chillfrom the air, and seeming to bring with it the sweet scents ofthe forests far away. Joyfully he labored at his paddle, the mereexhilaration of the morning filling his arms with the strength of ayoung giant. Wabi whistled and sang wild snatches of Indian song byturns, Rod joined him with _Yankee Doodle_ and _The Star SpangledBanner_, and even the silent Mukoki gave a whoop now and then to showthat he was as happy as they. 

One thought filled the minds of all. They were fairly started on thatmost thrilling of all trails, the trail of gold. In their possessionwas the secret of a great fortune. Romance, adventure, discovery, awaited them. The big, silent North, mysterious in its age-olddesolation, where even the winds seemed to whisper of strange thingsthat had happened countless years before, was just ahead of them. Theywere about to bury themselves in its secrets, to wrest from it theyellow treasure it guarded, and their blood tingled and leapedexcitedly at the thought. What would be revealed to them? What mightthey not discover? What strange adventures were they destined toencounter in that Unknown World, peopled only by the things of thewild, that stretched trackless and unexplored before them? A hundredthoughts like these fired the brains of the three adventurers, andmade their work a play, and every breath they drew one of joy. 

The lake was alive with ducks. Huge flocks of big black ducks, mallards, blue bills and whistlers rose about them, and now and then, when an unusually large flock was seen floating upon the water aheadof them, one of the three would take a pot-shot with his rifle. Rodand Mukoki had each killed two, and Wabi three, when the old warriorstopped the fun. 

"No waste too much shooting on ducks, " he advised. "Need shells--biggame. "

Several times during the morning the three rested from theirexertions, and at noon they ceased paddling for more than an hourwhile they ate the generous dinner that had been put up for them atWabinosh House. The farther side of the lake was now plainly visible, and when the journey was resumed all eyes eagerly sought for signsof the mouth of the Ombabika, where their stirring adventures of thewinter before had begun. For some time Wabi's gaze had been fixedupon a long, white rim along the shore, to which he now called hiscompanions' attention. 

"It seems to be moving, " he said, turning to Mukoki. "Is itpossible--" He paused doubtfully. 

"What?" questioned Rod. 

"That it's swans!" he completed. 

"Swans!" cried the young hunter. "Great Scott, do you mean to saythere could be enough swans--"

"They sometimes cover the lake in thousands, " said Wabi. "I have seenthem whitening the water as far as one could see. "

"More swan as you count in twent' t'ous'nd year!" affirmed Mukoki. After a few moments he added, "Them no swan. Ice!"

There was an unpleasant ring in his voice as he spoke the lastword, and though Rod did not fully understand what significance thediscovery held for them he could not but observe that it occasionedboth of his comrades considerable anxiety. The cause was not long indoubt. Another half hour of brisk paddling brought them to the edge ofa frozen field of ice that extended for a quarter of a mile from theshore. In both directions it stretched beyond their vision. Wabi'sface was filled with dismay. Mukoki sat with his paddle across hisknees, uttering not a sound. 

"What's the matter?" asked Rod. "Can't we make it?"

"Make it!" exclaimed Wabigoon. "Yes--perhaps to-morrow, or the nextday!"

"Do you mean to say we can't get over that ice?"

"That's just exactly the predicament we are in. The edge of that iceis rotten. "

The canoe had drifted alongside the ice, and Rod began pounding itwith his paddle. For a distance of two feet it broke off in chunks, then became more firm. 

"I believe that if we cut our way in for a canoe length or so it wouldhold us, " he declared. 

Wabi reached for an ax. 

"We'll try it!"

Mukoki shook his head. 

But for a second time that day Wabigoon persisted in acting againstthe old pathfinder's judgment, something that Rod had never known himto be guilty of before. Foot by foot he broke the ice ahead of thecanoe, until the frail craft had thrust its length into the rottenfield. Then, steadying himself on the bow, he stepped out cautiouslyupon the ice. 

"There!" he cried triumphantly. "You next, Rod! Steady!"

In a moment Rod had joined him. What happened after that seemed topass like a terrible nightmare. First there came a light cracking inthe ice under their feet, but it was over in an instant. Wabi waslaughing at him for the fear that had come into his face, and callinghis name, when with a thunderous, crash the whole mass gave way underthem, and they plunged down into the black depths of the lake. Thelast that Rod saw was his friend's horror-stricken face sinking in thecrumbling ice; he heard a sharp, terrible cry from Mukoki, and then heknew that the cold waters had engulfed him, and that he was battlingfor his life under the surface. 

Fiercely he struck out with arms and legs in an effort to rise, and inthat moment of terror he thought of the great sheet of ice. What if heshould come up under it? In which direction should he strike out?He opened his eyes but all was a black chaos about him. The secondsseemed like ages. There came a splitting, rending sensation in hishead, an almost overpowering desire to open his mouth, to gasp, gaspfor air where there was nothing but death! Then his head strucksomething. It was the ice! He had come up under the ice, and there wasbut one end to that!

He began to sink again, slowly, as if an invisible hand were pullinghim down, and in his despair he made a last frantic effort, strikingout blindly, knowing that in another second he must open his mouth. Even under the water he still had consciousness enough left to knowthat he tried to cry out, and he felt the first gurgling rush of waterinto his lungs. But he did not see the long arm that reached downwhere the bubbles were coming up, he did not feel the grip thatdragged him out upon the ice. His first sense of life was thatsomething very heavy was upon his stomach, and that he was beingrubbed, and pummeled, and rolled about as if he had become theplaything of a great bear. Then he saw Mukoki, and then Wabigoon. 

"You go build fire, " he heard Mukoki say, and he could hear Wabirunning swiftly shoreward. For he knew that they were still upon theice. The canoe was drawn safely up a dozen feet away, and the oldIndian was dragging blankets from it. When Mukoki turned he found Rodresting upon his elbow, looking at him. 

"That--w'at you call heem--close shave!" he grinned, placing asupporting arm under Rod's shoulder. 

With Mukoki's assistance the youth rose to his feet, and a thickblanket was wrapped about him. Slowly they made their way shoreward, and soon Wabi came running out to meet them, dripping wet. 

"Rod, when we get thawed out, I want you to kick me, " he pleaded. "Iwant you to kick me good and hard, and then I'll take great pleasurein kicking you. And ever after this, when we do a thing that Mukokitells us not to do, we'll kick some more!"

"Who pulled us out?" asked Rod. 

"Mukoki, of course. Will you kick me?"

"Shake!"

And the two dripping, half-frozen young adventurers shook hands, while Mukoki chuckled and grunted and gurgled until he set the othersbursting into laughter. 

CHAPTER VIII

THE YELLOW BULLET

Before a rousing fire of logs Rod and Wabigoon began to see thecheerful side of life again, and as soon as Mukoki had built them abalsam shelter they stripped off their clothes and wrapped themselvesin blankets, while the old Indian dried their outfits. It was twohours before they were dressed. No sooner were they out than Wabiwent into the bush and returned a few minutes later brandishing agood-sized birch in his hand. There was no sign of humor in his faceas he eyed Rod. 

"Do you see that log?" he said, pointing to the big trunk of a fallentree near the fire "That will just fit your stomach, Rod. It will bebetter than kicking. Double yourself over that, face down, pantaloonsup. I'm going to lick you first because I want you to know just howmuch to give me. I want it twice as hard, for I was more to blame thanyou. "

In some astonishment Rod doubled himself over the log. 

"Great Scott!" he ejaculated, peering up in dismay. "Not too hard, Wabi!"

Swish! fell the birch, and a yell of pain burst from the white youth'slips. 

Swish!--Swish!--Swish!

"Ouch! Great Caesar--Let up!"

"Don't move!" shouted Wabi. "Take it like a man--you deserve it!"

Again and again the birch fell. Rod groaned as he rose to his feetafter Wabi had stopped. "Oh, please--please give me that whip!"

"Not too hard, you know, " warned Wabi, as he fitted himself over thelog. 

"You chose your own poison, " reminded Rod, rolling up his sleeve. "Just twice as hard, no more!"

And the birch began to fall. 

When it was over Rod's arm ached, and Wabi, despite his Indianstoicism, let out a long howl at the last blow. 

During the entire scene of chastisement Mukoki stood like one struckdumb. 

"We'll never be bad any more, Muky, " promised Wabigoon, rubbinghimself gently. "That is, if we are, we'll whip ourselves again, eh, Rod?"

"Not so long as I can run!" assured Rod with emphasis. "I'm willingto lend a helping hand at any time you think you deserve another, butbeyond that please count me out!"

For an hour after the self-punishment of the young gold hunters thethree gathered fuel for the night and balsam boughs for their beds. Itwas dark by the time they sat down to their supper, which they ate inthe light of a huge fire of dry poplar. 

"This is better than paddling all night, even if we did have a closeshave, " said Rod, after they had finished and settled themselvescomfortably. 

Wabi gave a grimace and shrugged his shoulders. 

"Do you know how close your call was?" he asked. "It was so close thatjust by one chance in ten thousand you were saved. I had pulled myselfupon the ice by catching hold of the bow of the canoe and when Mukysaw that I was safe he watched for you. But you didn't show up. Wehad given you up for dead when a few bubbles came to the surface, andquicker than a wink Mukoki thrust down his arm. He got you by the hairas you were sinking for the last time. Think of that, Rod, and dreamof it to-night. It'll do you good. "

"Ugh!" shuddered the white youth. "Let's talk of something morecheerful. What a glorious fire that poplar makes!"

"Mak' light more as twent' t'ous'nd candles!" agreed Mukoki. "Heembright!"

"Once upon a time, many ages ago, there was a great chief in thiscountry, " began Wabigoon, "and he had seven beautiful daughters. Sobeautiful were they that the Great Spirit himself fell in love withthem, and for the first time in countless moons he appeared uponearth, and told the chief that if he would give him his sevendaughters he, in turn, would grant the father seven great desires. Andthe chief, surrendering his daughters, asked that he might be given aday without night, and a night without day, and his wish was granted;and his third and fourth and fifth desires were that the land mightalways be filled with fish and game, the forests remain for evergreen, and fire be given to his people. His sixth desire was that afuel be given to him which would burn even in water, and the GreatSpirit gave him birch; and his seventh desire was that he mightpossess another fuel, which would throw off no smoke, and might bringcomfort and joy to his wigwams--and the poplar sprang up in theforests. And because of that chief, and his seven beautiful daughters, all of these things are true even to this day. Isn't it so, Mukoki?"

The old warrior nodded. 

"And what became of the Great Spirit and the seven beautifuldaughters?" questioned Rod. 

Mukoki rose and left the fire. 

"He believes in that as he believes in the sun and the moon, " spokeWabi softly. "But he knows that you do not, and that all white peoplelaugh at it. He could tell you many wonderful stories of the creationof these forests and mountains and the things in them if he would. But he knows that you would not believe, and would laugh at himafterward. "

In an instant Rod was upon his feet. 

"Mukoki!" he called. "Mukoki!"

The old Indian turned and came back slowly. The white youth met himhalf-way, his face flushed, his eyes shining. 

"Mukoki, " he said gently, gripping the warrior's hand, "Mukoki--I loveyour Great Spirit! I love the one who made these glorious forests, andthat glorious moon up there, and the mountains and lakes and rivers!I Want to know more about him. You must tell me, so that I will knowwhen he talks about me, in the winds, in the stars, in the forests!Will you?"

Mukoki was looking at him, his thin lips parted, his grim visagerelaxed, as if he were weighing the truthfulness of the white youth'swords. 

"And I will tell you about our Great Spirit, the white man's GreatSpirit, " urged Rod. "For we have a Great Spirit, too, Mukoki, and Hedid for the white man's world what yours did for you. He created theearth, the sky and the sea and all the things in them in six days, andon the seventh He rested. And that seventh day we call Sunday, Mukoki. And He made our forests for us, as your Great Spirit made them foryou, only instead of giving them for the love of seven beautiful womenHe gave them for the love of man. I'll tell you wonderful things aboutHim, Mukoki, if you will tell me about yours. Is it a bargain?"

"Mebby--yes, " replied the old pathfinder slowly. His face hadsoftened, and for the second time Rod knew that he had touched theheartstrings of his red comrade. They returned to the fire, and Wabimade room for them upon the log beside him. In his hand he held a copyof the old birch-bark map. 

"I've been thinking about this all day, " he said, spreading it out sothat the others could see. "Somehow I haven't been able to get theidea out of my head that--"

"What?" asked Rod. 

"Oh, nothing, " hastily added Wabi, as if he regretted what he hadsaid. "It's a mighty curious map, isn't it? I wonder if we'll everknow its whole story. "

"I believe we know it now, " declared Rod. "In the first place, wefound it clutched by one of the skeletons, and we know from the knifewounds in those skeletons, and the weapons near them, that the twomen fought and killed themselves. They fought for this map, for theprecious secret which each wished to possess alone. Now--"

He took the map from Wabi's fingers and held it up between them andthe fire. 

"Isn't the rest of it clear?"

For a few moments the three looked at it in silence. 

From the faded outlines of the original it had been drawn withpainstaking accuracy. 

With a splinter Rod pointed to the top of the map, where were writtenthe words, "Cabin and head of chasm. "

"Could anything be clearer?" he repeated. "Here is the cabin in whichthe men killed themselves, and where we found their skeletons, andhere they have marked the chasm in which I shot the silver fox, anddown which we must go to find the gold. According to this we must gountil we come to the third waterfall, and there we will find anothercabin--and the gold. "

"It all seems very simple--by the map, " agreed Wabi. 

Under the crude diagram were a number of lines in writing. They were:

"We, John Ball, Henri Langlois, and Peter Plante, having discoveredgold at this fall, do hereby agree to joint partnership in the same, and do pledge ourselves to forget our past differences and work inmutual good will and honesty, so help us God. Signed, "JOHN BALL, HENRI LANGLOIS, PETER PLANTE. "

Through the name of John Ball had been drawn a broad black line whichhad almost destroyed the letters, and at the end of this line, inbrackets, was printed a word in French, which for the hundredth timeWabi translated aloud:

"Dead!"

"From the handwriting of the original we know that Ball was a man ofsome education, " continued Rod. "And there is no doubt but that thebirch-bark sketch was made by him. All of the writing was in one hand, with the exception of the signatures of Langlois and Plante, and youcould hardly decipher the letters in those signatures if you did notalready know their names. From these lines it is quite certain thatwe were right at the cabin when we concluded that the two Frenchmenkilled the Englishman to get him out of the partnership. Isn't thatstory clear enough?"

"Yes, as far as you have gone, " replied Wabi. "These three mendiscovered gold, quarreled, signed this agreement, and then Ball wasmurdered. The two Frenchmen, as Mukoki suggested at the cabin, cameout a little later for supplies, and brought the buckskin bag full ofgold with them. They had come as far as the cabin at the head of thechasm when they quarreled over possession of the map and agreement, fought, and died. From the old guns and other evidences we found nearthem we know that all this happened at least fifty years ago, andperhaps more. But--"

He paused, whistling softly. 

"Where is the third waterfall?"

"I thought we settled that last winter, " replied Rod, a littleirritated by his companion's doubt. "If writing goes for anything, Ball was a man of education, and he drew the map according to somesort of scale. The second fall is only half as far from the first fallas the third fall is from the second, which is conclusive evidence ofthis. Now Mukoki discovered the first waterfall fifty miles down thechasm!"

"And we figured from the distances between John Ball's marks on thebirch, that the third fall was about two hundred and fifty miles fromour old camp at the head of the chasm, " rejoined Wabigoon. "It looksreasonable. "

"It is reasonable, " declared Rod, his face flushed with excitement. "From the head of the chasm our trail is as plain as day. We can'tmiss it!"

Mukoki had been listening in silence, and now joined in theconversation for the first time. 

"Must get to chasm first, " he grunted, giving his shoulders a hunchthat suggested a great deal. 

Wabi returned the map to his pocket. 

"You're right, Muky, " he laughed. "We're climbing mountains before wecome to them. It will be tough work getting to the chasm. "

"Much water--ver' swift. River run lak twent' t'ous'nd cari-boo!"

"I'll bet the Ombabika is a raging torrent, " said Rod. 

"And we've got forty miles of it, all upstream, " replied Wabi. "Thenwe come to the Height of Land. After that the streams run northward, to Hudson Bay, and when we reach them we'll hold our breath and prayinstead of paddling. Oh, it will be exciting fun rushing down-streamon the floods!"

"But there is work before us to-morrow--hard work, " said Rod. "And I'mgoing to bed. Good night!"

Mukoki and Wabigoon soon followed their companion's example, and halfan hour later nothing but the crackling of the fire disturbed thestillness of the camp. Mukoki was as regular as clockwork in hisrising, and an hour before dawn he was up and preparing breakfast. When his young comrades aroused themselves they found the ducks theyhad shot the preceding day roasting on spits over the fire, and coffeenearly ready. Rod also noticed that a part of the contents of thecanoe were missing. 

"Took load up to river, " explained Mukoki in response to the youth'squestioning. 

"Working while we sleep, as usual, " exclaimed the disgusted Wabigoon. "If it keeps on we'll deserve another whipping, Rod!"

Mukoki examined a fat bluebill, roasted to a rich brown, and gave itto Rod. Another he handed to Wabigoon, and with a third in his ownhands he found a seat for himself upon the ground close to the coffeeand bread. 

"Ah, if this isn't fit for a king!" cried Rod, poising his savorybluebill on the end of a fork. 

Half an hour later the three went to their canoe. Mukoki had alreadypacked a half of its contents to the river, a quarter of a mile away, and he now loaded himself with the remainder while the two boyshoisted the light birch upon their shoulders. As Roderick caught hisfirst glimpse of the Ombabika in the growing light of day he gave acry of astonishment. When he had gone up the stream the precedingwinter it was scarce more than a dozen gun lengths in width. Now itwas a veritable Amazon, its black, ugly waters rolling and twistinglike the slow boiling of a thick liquid over a fire. There was littlerush about it, no frenzied haste, no mountain-like madness in theadvance of the torrent. Rod had expected to see this, and he would nothave been startled by it. 

But there was something vastly more appalling in the flood that rolledslowly before his eyes, with its lazily twisting whirlpools, itsthousand unseen currents, rolling the water here and there--always indifferent places--like the gurgling eruptions he had often observedin a pot of simmering oatmeal. There was something uncanny aboutit, something terribly suggestive of giant hands under the surface, waiting to pull them down. He knew, without questioning, thatthere was more deadly power in that creeping flood than in a dozenboisterous torrents thundering down from the mountains. In it were thecumulative waters of a score of those torrents, and in its broad, deepsweep into the big lake the currents and perils of each were combinedinto one great threatening force. 

The thoughts that were in Rod's mind betrayed themselves as he lookedat his companions. Mukoki was reloading the canoe. Wabi watched theflood. 

"She's running pretty strong, " said the Indian youth dubiously. "Whatdo you think of it, Muky?"

"Keep close to shore, " replied the old warrior, without stopping hiswork. "We mak' heem--safe!"

There was a good deal of consolation in Mukoki's words, for bothyouths still bore smarting reminders of his caution and good judgment. In a short time the canoe was safely launched where a small eddy hadworked into the shore, and the three adventurers dug in their paddles. Mukoki, who held the important position in the stern, kept the bow ofthe birch within half a dozen yards of the bank, and to Rod's mindthey slipped up-stream with amazing speed and ease. Now and then oneof the upheavings of the currents would catch the canoe, and from theway in which it was pitched either to one side or the other Rod easilyimagined what perils the middle of the stream would have held forthem. Quick action on the part of Mukoki and Wabigoon was alwaysnecessary to counteract the effect of these upheavals, and in the bowWabi was constantly on the alert. At no time could they tell when toexpect the attacks of the unseen forces below. Ten feet ahead thewater might be running as smooth as oil, then--a single huge bubble, as if a great fish had sent up a gasp of air--and in an instant itwould be boiling like a small maelstrom. 

Rod noticed that each time they were caught near one of these someunseen power seemed sucking them down, and that at those times thecanoe would settle several inches deeper than when they were in calmwater. The discovery thrilled him, and he wondered what one of the bigeruptions out in mid-stream would do to them if they were caught init. Other perils were constantly near them. Floating logs and massesof brush and other debris swept down with the flood, and Wabi'swarning cries of "right, " "left, " and "back" came with such frequencythat Rod's arms ached with the mighty efforts which he made with hispaddle in response to them. Again the stream would boil with such furyahead of them that Mukoki would put in to shore, and a portage wouldbe made beyond the danger point. Five times during the day were thecanoe and its contents carried in this manner, so that including alltime lost an average of not more than two miles an hour was made. Whencamp was struck late that afternoon, however, Mukoki figured that theyhad covered half the distance up the Ombabika. 

The following day's progress was even slower. With every mile thestream became narrower and swifter. The treacherous upheavals causedby undercurrents no longer harassed the gold seekers, but logs anddebris swept down with greater velocity. Several times the frail canoewas saved from destruction only by the quick and united action of thethree. They worked now like a well-regulated machine, engineered byWabigoon, whose sharp eyes were always on the alert for danger ahead. This second day was one of thrills and tense anxiety for Rod, and hewas glad when it came to an end. It was early, and the sun was stilltwo hours high, when they stopped to camp. 

Mukoki had chosen an open space, backed by a poplar-covered rockyridge, and scarce had the bow of the canoe touched shore when Wabigave an excited exclamation, caught up his rifle, and fired threerapid shots in the direction of a small clump of spruce near the footof the mountain. 

"Missed, by all that's good and great!" he yelled. "Quick, Mukoki, shove her in! There's the biggest bear I've seen in all my life!"

"Where?" demanded Rod. "Where is he?"

He dropped his paddle and snatched his own rifle, while Mukoki, keeping his self-possession, brought the canoe so that Wabi could leapashore. Rod followed like a flash, and the two excited youths sped inthe direction of the bear, leaving their companion to care for himselfand the heavily-laden birch. A short, swift run brought them to theedge of the spruce, and with hearts beating wildly the two scanned thebarren side of the mountain ahead of them. There was no sign of thebear. 

"He turned down-stream!" cried Wabi, "We must cut--"

"There he is, " whispered Rod sharply. 

Just beginning the ascent of the mountain, four or five hundred yardsbelow them, was the bear. Even at that distance Rod was amazed at thesize of the beast. 

"What a monster!" he gasped. 

"Blaze away!" urged Wabi. "It's four hundred yards if it's a foot! Aimfor the top of his back and you'll bring him!"

Suiting action to his words he fired the two remaining shots inhis rifle, and as he slipped in fresh cartridges Rod continued thelong-range fusillade. His first and second shots produced no effect. At his third the running animal paused for a moment and looked down atthem, and the young Hunter seized his opportunity to take a carefulaim. At the report of his gun the bear gave a quick lunge forward, half-fell among the rocks, and then was off again. 

"You hit him!" shouted Wabi, setting off on a dead run between thespruce and the mountain. 

For a few brief moments Rod studied the situation as he reloaded. Thebear was rapidly nearing the summit of the ridge. By, swift runningWabigoon would have another fair shot before the animal got out ofrange. If that shot were a miss they would lose their game. In a flashhe discerned a break in the mountain. If he could make that, and thebear turned in his direction--

Without further thought he ran toward the break. He heard the sharpreports of Wabi's rifle behind him, but didn't stop to see the effectof the fire. If it was another miss--every second counted. The cut inthe mountain was clear. Breathlessly he dashed through it and stoppedon the opposite side, his eyes eagerly scanning the rock-strewn ridge. He made no attempt to suppress the exclamation of joy that came tohis lips when, fully eight hundred yards away, he discerned the bearcoming down the side of the mountain, and in his direction. Crouchingbehind a huge boulder Rod waited. Seven hundred yards, six hundred, five hundred, and the bear turned, this time striking into the edgeof the plain. The animal was traveling slowly, partly stopping in hisflight now and then, and Rod knew that he was badly wounded. It wassoon evident that the course being taken by the game would bring it nonearer, and the young hunter leveled his rifle. 

Five hundred yards, more than a quarter of a mile!

This was desperate shooting, shooting that sent a strange thrillthrough Roderick Drew. The magnificent weapon in his hands was equalto the task. It would kill easily at that distance. But would he fail?He was confident that his first shot went high. His second had noeffect. To his third there came the sharp response of a fourth fromthe top of the mountain. Wabigoon had reached the summit, and wasfiring at six hundred yards!

The bear stopped. With deadly precision Rod now took aim at themotionless animal. An instant after he had fired a wild shout burstfrom his throat, and was answered by Wabigoon's joyful yell from themountain. It was a wonderful shot, and the bear was down!

The animal was dead when the triumphant young hunters reached itsside. It was some time before either of them spoke. Panting from theirexertions, both looked down in silence upon the huge beast at theirfeet. That he had made a remarkable kill Rod could see by the look ofwonder in his companion's face. They were still mutely regardingthe dead animal when Mukoki came through the break in the ridge andhurried toward them. His face, too, became filled with amazement whenhe saw the bear. 

"Big bear!" he exclaimed. 

There was a world of meaning in his words, and Rod flushed withpleasure. 

"He weighs five hundred, " said Wabi, "and he stands four feet at theshoulders if an inch. "

"Fine rug!" grinned Mukoki. 

"Let's see, Rod; he'll make a rug--" Wabi walked critically aroundthe bear. "He'll make you a rug over eight feet long by about six inwidth. I wonder where he is hit?"

A brief examination showed that while the honors of the actual killwere with Rod, at least one, and perhaps two, of Wabi's shots hadtaken effect. The last shot from the white youth's rifle had struckthe bear just below the right ear, causing almost instantaneous death. On this same side, which had been exposed to Rod's fire, was a bodywound, undoubtedly made by the shot on the mountain side. When theanimal was rolled over by the combined efforts of the three two morewounds were discovered on the left side, which had mostly been exposedto Wabigoon's fire. It was while examining these that the sharp-eyedMukoki gave a sudden grunt of surprise. 

"Heem shot before--long time ago! Old wound--feel bullet!"

Between his fingers he was working the loose hide back of the foreleg. The scar of an old wound was plainly visible, and both Rod and Wabicould feel the ball under the skin. There is something that fascinatesthe big game hunter in this discovery of an old wound in his quarry, and especially in the vast solitudes of the North, where hunters arefew and widely scattered. It brings with it a vivid picture ofwhat happened long ago, the excitement of some other chase, thewell-directed shot, and at last the escape of the game. And so it wasnow. The heads of Rod and Wabigoon hung close over Mukoki's shoulderswhile the old Indian dug out the bullet with his knife. Another gruntof surprise fell from the pathfinder's lips as he dropped the pelletin the palm of his hand. 

It was a strange-looking object, smooth, and curiously flattened. 

"Ver' soft bullet, " said Mukoki. "Never know lead thin, thin out lakthat!"

With his knife he peeled off a thin slice of the ball. 

"Heem--"

He held up the two pieces. In the sun they gleamed a dull, richyellow. 

"That bullet made of gold!" he breathed, scarcely above a whisper. "Noyellow lead. That gold, pure gold!"

CHAPTER IX

UP THE OMBABIKA

For a few moments after Mukoki's remarkable discovery the three stoodspeechless. Wabigoon stared as if he could not bring himself tobelieve the evidence of his eyes. Rod was quivering with the old, thrilling excitement that had first come to him in the cabin wherethey had found the skeletons and the buckskin bag with its preciousnuggets, and Mukoki's face was a study. The thin, long fingers whichheld the two pieces of the gold bullet trembled, which was an unusualsymptom in the old pathfinder. It was he who broke the silence, andhis words gave utterance to the question which had rushed into theheads of the two young hunters. 

"Who shoot gold bullets at bear?"

And to this question there was, for the time, absolutely no answer. Totell who shot that bullet was impossible. But why was it used?

Wabigoon had taken the parts of the yellow ball and was weighing themin the palm of his hand. 

"It weighs an ounce, " he declared. 

"Twenty dollars' worth of gold!" gasped Rod, as if he lacked breathto express himself. "Who in the wide world is shooting twenty dollarbullets at bear?" he cried more excitedly, repeating Mukoki's questionof a minute before. 

He, too, weighed the yellow pellets in his hand. 

The puzzled look had gone out of Mukoki's face. 'Again thebattle-scarred old warrior wore the stoic mask of his race, which onlynow and then is lifted for an instant by some sudden and unexpectedhappening. Behind that face, immobile, almost expressionless, worked amind alive to every trick and secret of the vast solitudes, and evenbefore his young comrades had gained the use of their tongues he was, in his savage imagination, traveling swiftly back over the trail ofthe monster bear to the gun that had fired the golden bullet. Wabigoonunderstood him, and watched him eagerly. 

"What do you think of it, Muky?"

"Man shoot powder and ball gun, not cartridge, " replied Mukoki slowly. "Old gun. Strange; ver' strange!"

"A muzzle loader!" said Wabi. 

The Indian nodded. 

"Had powder, no lead. Got hungry; used gold. "

Eight words had told the story, or at least enough of it to clear awaya part of the cloud of mystery, but the other part still remained. 

Who had fired the bullet, _and where had the gold come from?_

"He must have struck it rich, " said Wabi "else would he have a chunkof gold like that?"

"Where that come from--more, much! more, " agreed Mukoki shortly. 

"Do you suppose--" began Rod. There was a curious thrill in his voice, and he paused, as if scarce daring to venture the rest of what he hadmeant to say. "Do you suppose--somebody has found--our gold?"

Mukoki and Wabigoon stared at him as if he had suddenly exploded amine. Then Wabi turned and looked silently at the old Indian. Nota word was spoken. Silently Rod drew something from his pocket, carefully wrapped in a bit of cloth. 

"You remember I kept this little nugget from my share in the buckskinbag, intending to have a scarf-pin made of it, " he explained. "When Itook my course in geology and mineralogy I learned that, if one hadhalf a dozen specimens of gold, each from a different mine, thechances were about ten to one that no two of them would be exactlyalike in coloring. Now--"

He exposed the nugget, and made a fresh cut in it with his knife, asMukoki had done with the yellow bullet. Then the two gleaming surfaceswere compared. 

One glance was sufficient. 

The gold was the same!

Wabi drew back, uttering something under his breath, his eyes gleamingdarkly. Rod's face had suddenly turned a shade whiter, and Mukoki, notunderstanding the mysteries of mineralogy, stared at the youth in mutesuspense. 

"Somebody has found our gold!" cried Wabi, almost savagely. 

"We are not sure, " interrupted Rod. "We know only that the evidence isvery suspicious. The rock formation throughout this country is almostidentically the same, deep trap on top, with slate beneath, and forthat reason it is very possible that gold found right in this localitywould be of exactly the same appearance as gold found two hundredmiles from here. Only--it's suspicious, " Rod concluded. 

"Man probably dead, " consoled Mukoki. "No lead--hungry--shoot bear an'no git heem. Mebby starve!"

"The poor devil!" exclaimed Wabigoon. "We've been too selfish to givea thought to that, Rod. Of course he was hungry, or he wouldn't haveused gold for bullets. And he didn't get this bear! By George--"

"I wish he'd got him, " said Rod simply. 

Somehow Mukoki's words sent a flush into his face. There came to him, suddenly, a mental picture of that possible tragedy in the wilderness:the starving man, his last hopeless molding of a golden bullet, thesight of the monster bear, the shot, and after that the despair andsuffering and slow death of the man who had fired it. 

"I wish he'd got it, " he repeated. "We have plenty of grub. "

Mukoki was already at work skinning the bear, and Rod and Wabigoonunsheathed their knives and joined him. 

"Wound 'bout fi', six month old, " said the Indian. "Shot just beforesnow. "

"When there wasn't a berry in the woods for a starving man to eat, "added Wabi. "Well, here's hoping he found something, Rod. "

An hour later the three gold seekers returned to their canoe ladenwith the choicest of the bear meat, and the animal's skin, which wasimmediately stretched between two trees, high up out of the reach ofdepredating animals. Rod gazed at it proudly. 

"We'll be sure and get it when we come back, won't we?"

"Sure, " replied Wabi. 

"It will be safe?"

"As safe as though it were at home. "

"Unless somebody comes along and steals it, " added Rod. 

Wabi was busy unloading certain necessary articles from the canoe, buthe ceased his work to look at Rod. 

"Steal!" he cried in astonishment. 

Mukoki, too, had heard Rod's remark and was listening. 

"Rod, " continued Wabigoon quietly, "that is one thing we don't have uphere. Our great big glorious North doesn't know the word thief, exceptwhen it is applied to a Woonga. If a white hunter came along hereto-morrow, and found that hide stretched so low that the animals weregetting at it, he would nail it higher for us. An Indian, if he campedhere, would build his fire so that the sparks wouldn't strike it. Rod, up here, where we don't know civilization, we're honest!"

"But down in the States, " said Rod, "the Indians steal. "

The words slipped from him. The next instant he would have givenanything to have been able to recall them. Mukoki had grown a littlemore tense in his attitude. 

"That's because white men have lived so much among them, white men whoare called civilized, " answered the young scion of Wabinosh House, hiseyes growing bright. "White blood makes thieves. Pardon me for sayingit, Rod, but it does, at least among Indians. But our white bloodup here is different from yours. It's the same blood that's in ourIndians, every drop of it honest, loyal to its friends, and it runsred and strong with the love of this great wilderness. There areexceptions, of course, as you have seen in the Woongas, who are anoutlaw race. But we are honest, and Mukoki there, if he were dying ofcold, wouldn't steal a skin to save himself. An ordinary Indian mighttake it, if he were dying for want of it, but not unless he had a gunto leave in its place!"

"I didn't mean to say what I did, " said Rod. "Oh, I wish I were oneof you! I love this big wilderness, and everything in it, and it'sglorious to hear you say what you do!"

"You are one of us, " cried Wabi, gripping his hand. 

That evening, after they had finished their supper and the three weregathered about the fire, Wabigoon said:

"Muky could tell you one reason why the Indians of the North arehonest if he wanted to, Rod. But he won't, so I will. There was once atribe in the country of Mukoki's fore-fathers, along the Makoki River, which empties into the Albany, whose men were great thieves, and whostole from one another. No man's snare was safe from his neighbor, fights and killings were of almost daily occurrence, and the chiefof the tribe was the greatest thief of all, and of course escapedpunishment. This chief loved to set his own snares, and one day he wasenraged to find that one of his tribe had been so bold as to set asnare within a few inches of his own, and in the trail of the sameanimal. He determined on meting out a terrible punishment, and waited. 

"While he was waiting a rabbit ran into the snare of his rival. Picking up a stick he approached to kill the game, when suddenly thereseemed to pass a white mist before his eyes, and when he looked againthere was no rabbit, but the most wonderful creature he had everbeheld in the form of man, and he knew that it was the Great Spirit, and fell upon his face. And a great voice came to him, as if rollingfrom far beyond the most distant mountains, and it told him that theforests and streams of the red man's heaven were closed to him and hispeople, that in the hunting-grounds that came after death there was noplace for thieves. 

"'Go to your people, ' he said, 'and tell them this. Tell them thatfrom this day on, moon upon moon, until the end of time, must theylive like brothers, setting their snares side by side without war, toescape the punishment that hovers over them. '

"And the chief told his people this, " finished Wabi, "and from thathour there was no more thievery in the land. And because the GreatSpirit came in the form he did the rabbit is the good luck animal ofthe Crees and Chippewayans of the far North, and wherever the snowsfall deep, men set their traps side by side to this day, and do notrob. "

Rod had listened with glowing eyes. 

"It's glorious!" he repeated. "It's glorious, if it's true!"

"It is true, " said Wabi. "In all this great country between here andthe Barren Lands, where the musk-ox lives, there is not one Indian ina hundred who would steal another Indian's trap, or the game in it. It is one of the understood laws of the North that every hunter shallhave his 'trap line, ' or 'run, ' and it is not courtesy for anothertrapper to encroach upon it; but if he should, and he should lay atrap close beside another's, it would not be wrong, for the law of theGreat Spirit is greater than the law of man. Why, last winter even theoutlaw Woongas made no effort to steal our traps, though they thirstedfor our lives!"

"Mukoki, " said Rod, rising, "I want to shake hands with you before Igo to bed. I'm learning--fast. I wish I were half Indian!"

The next morning the journey up the Ombabika was resumed, and alittle more of anxiety was now mingled with the enthusiasm of theadventurers. For no one of them could relieve himself of the possiblesignificance of the gold bullet, the fear that their treasure had beendiscovered by another. Wabi regained his confidence first. 

"I don't believe it!" he exclaimed at last. Without questioning, theothers knew to what he referred. "I don't believe that our goldhas been found. It is in the heart of the wildest country on thecontinent, and surely if such a rich find had been made we would haveheard something about it at Wabinosh House or Kenegami, which are thenearest points of supply. "

"Or, if it was found, the discoverer is dead, " added Rod. 

"Yes. "

In the stern, Mukoki nodded and grunted his conviction. 

"Dead, " he repeated. 

The Ombabika had now become narrow and violent. Against its swiftcurrent the canoe made but little headway, and at noon Mukokiannounced that the river journey was at an end. For a few moments Roddid not recognize where they had landed. Then he gave a sudden cry ofglad surprise. 

"Why, this is where we had supper that night after our terribleadventure on the river last winter, " he exclaimed. 

From far off there came faintly to his ears a low, rumbling thunder. 

"Listen! That's the river rushing through the break in the mountainwhere we walked the edge of the precipice!"

Wabi shrugged his shoulders at the memory of that fearful night andits desperate race to escape from the Woonga country. 

"We've got to do the same thing again, only this time it will be indaylight. "

"Long portage, " said Mukoki. "Six mile. Carry everything. "

"Until we reach the little creek in the plains beyond the mountain, where you shot the caribou?" asked Rod. 

"Yes, " replied Wabigoon. "That little creek will now be a pretty huskystream, and by hard work we can paddle up it until we come withinabout eight miles of our old camp at the head of the chasm, where wefound the skeletons and the map. "

"And from that point we shall have to carry our canoe and suppliesto the creek in the chasm, " finished Rod. "And then--hurrah for thegold!"

"Mak' old camp on mountain by night, " said Mukoki. 

Wabi broke into a happy laugh and thumped Rod on the back. 

"Remember the big lynx you shot, Rod, and thought it was a Woonga, andhad us all frightened out of our wits?" he cried. 

Rod colored at the memory of his funny adventure, which was thrillingenough at the time, and began assisting Mukoki in unloading the canoe. Two hours were taken for dinner and rest, and then the young huntersshouldered their canoe while Mukoki hurried on ahead of them, weightedwith a half of their supplies. Every step now brought the thunder ofthe torrent rushing through the mountain more clearly to their ears, and they had not progressed more than a mile when they were compelledto shout to make each other hear. On their right the wall of themountain closed in rapidly, and as they stumbled with their burdenover a mass of huge boulders the two boys saw just ahead of them thenarrow trail at the edge of the precipice. 

At its beginning they rested their canoe. On one side of them, a dozenyards away, the face of the mountain rose sheer above them for athousand feet; on the other, scarce that distance from where theystood, was the roaring chasm. And ahead of them the mountain wall andthe edge of the precipice came nearer and nearer, until there was nomore than a six-foot ledge to walk upon. Rod's face turned strangelywhite as he realized, for the first time, the terrible chances theyhad taken on that black, eventful night of a few months ago; and for atime Wabi stood silent, his face as hard-set as a rock. Up out of thechasm there came a deafening thunder of raging waters, like thehollow explosions of great guns echoing and reëchoing in subterraneancaverns. 

"Let's take a look!" shouted Wabi close up to his companion's ear. 

He went to the edge of the precipice, and Rod forced himself tofollow, though there was in him a powerful inclination to hug closeto the mountain wall. For half a minute he stood fascinated, terror-stricken, and yet in those thirty seconds he saw that whichwould remain with him for a lifetime. Five hundred feet below him theover-running floods of spring were caught between the ragged edges ofthe two chasm walls, beating themselves in their fury to the whitenessof milk froth, until it seemed as though the earth itself must trembleunder their mad rush. Now and then through the twisting foam thereshot the black crests of great rocks, as though huge monsters ofsome kind were at play, whipping the torrent into greater fury, andbellowing forth thunderous voices when they rose triumphant for aninstant above the sweep of the flood. 

All this Rod saw in less than a breath, and he drew back, shiveringin every fiber of his body. But Wabigoon did not move. For severalminutes the Indian youth stood looking down upon the wonderful forceat play below him, his body as motionless as though hewn out of stone, the wild blood in his veins leaping in response to the tumult andthunder of the magnificent spectacle deep down in the chasm. When heturned to Rod his lips made no sound, but his eyes glowed with thathalf-slumbering fire which came only when the red blood of theprincess mother gained ascendency, and the wild in him called outgreeting to the savage in nature. It is not music, or fine talk, orartificial wonders that waken a thrill deep down in the Indian soul, it is the great mountain, the vast plain, the roaring cataract! And soit was with Wabigoon. 

They went on, now, with the canoe upon their shoulders, and huggingclose to the mountain wall. Slowly, avoiding every stone and stickthat might cause one of them to stumble, they passed along theperilously narrow ledge, and did not rest again until they had comein safety to the broader trail leading up the mountain. An hour laterMukoki met them on his return for the remainder of their supplies. Shortly after this they reached the small plateau where they hadcamped during the previous winter, and lowered their canoe close tothe old balsam shelter. 

Everything was as they had left it. Neither snow nor storm haddestroyed their lodging of boughs. There were the charred remains oftheir fire, the bones of the huge lynx which Roderick had thought wasan attacking Woonga, and had killed; and beside the shelter was astake driven into the ground, the stake to which they had fastenedtheir faithful comrade of many an adventure, the tame wolf. 

To this stake went Wabigoon, speaking no word. He sat down closebeside it, with his arm resting upon it, and when he looked up at Rodthere was an expression in his face which spoke more than words. 

"Poor old Wolf!"

Rod turned and walked to the edge of the plateau, something hot anduncomfortable filling his eyes. Below him, as far as he could see, there stretched the vast, mysterious wilderness that reached to HudsonBay. And somewhere out there in that limitless space was Wolf. 

As he looked, the hot film clouding his vision, he thought of the oldtragedy in Mukoki's life, and of how Wolf had helped him to avengehimself. In his imagination he went back to that terrible day many, many years ago, when Mukoki, happy in the strength of his youth, foundhis young wife and child dead upon the trail, killed by wolves; hethought of the story that Wabi had told him of the madness that cameto the young warrior, of how year after year he followed the trail ofwolves, wreaking his vengeance on their breed. And last he thoughtof Wolf--how Mukoki and Wabigoon had found the whelp in one of theirtraps; how they tamed him, grew to love him, and taught him to decoyother wolves to their riffes. Wolf had been their comrade of a fewmonths before; fearless, faithful, until at last, escaping from thefinal murderous assault of the Woongas, he had fled into the forests, while his human friends fought their way back to civilization. 

Where was Wolf now?

Unconsciously Rod questioned himself aloud, and from close behind himWabi answered. 

"With the hunt-pack, Rod. He's forgotten us; gone back to the wild. "

"Gone back to the wild, yes, " said Rod; "but forgotten us, no!"

Wabi made no reply. 

CHAPTER X

THE MYSTERIOUS SHOT

For many minutes the two stood silently gazing into the North. Attheir feet spread the broad plain where Mukoki had killed the caribouwhile they watched him from the plateau; beyond that were the densestretches of forest, broken here and there by other plains andmeadows, and a dozen lakes glistened in the red tints of the settingsun. When Rod first looked upon that country a few months before itwas a world of ice and snow, a cold, dazzling panorama of white thatreached from where he stood to the Pole. Now it was wakening underthe first magic touch of spring. Far away the two young gold hunterscaught a glimmer of the stream which they were to follow up to thechasm. Last winter it had been a tiny creek; now it was swollen to thesize of a river. 

Suddenly, as they looked, two dark objects came slowly out into anopening a mile away. At that distance they appeared hardly largerthan dogs, and Rod, whose mind was still filled with thoughts ofWolf, exclaimed "Wolves!"

In the same breath he caught himself, and added:

"Moose!"

"A cow and her calf, " said Wabi. 

"How do you know?" asked Rod. 

"There; watch them now!" cried Wabi, catching his companion by thearm. "The mother is ahead, and even from here I can see that she ispacing. A moose never trots or gallops, like a deer, but paces, usingboth feet on a side at the same time. Notice how the calf jumps about. An old moose would never do that. "

"But both animals look to be about the same size, " replied Rod, stilldoubtful. 

"It's a two-year-old calf; almost as big as its mother. In fact, it'snot really a calf, because it is too old; but so long as young moosestick to their mothers we call them calves up here. I've known them toremain together for three years. "

"They're coming this way!" whispered the white youth. 

The moose had turned, heading for the base of the mountain upon whichthey stood. Wabi drew his companion behind a big rock, from which bothcould look down without being seen. 

"Be quiet!" he warned. "They're coming to feed on the sprouting poplaralong the mountain side. Just been over to the creek to get a drink. We may have some fun!"

He wet a finger in his mouth and held it above his head, the forestpathfinder's infallible method of telling how the wind blows. Nomatter how slight the movement of the air may be, one side of thefinger dries first, in an instant, and is warm, while the side thatremains damp is cold, and in the lee, that side toward which the windis blowing. 

"The wind is wrong, dead wrong, " said Wabi. "It's blowing straighttoward them. Unless we are so high that our scent goes above them theywon't come much nearer. "

Another minute and Rod nudged Wabigoon. 

"They're within range!"

"Yes, but we won't shoot. We don't need meat. "

As the young Indian spoke the cow brought herself to a dead stop sosuddenly that Wabi gave a delighted grunt. 

"Great!" he whispered. "She's caught a whiff of us, a quarter of amile away. See how she holds her head, her great ears chucked forwardto hear, her nose half to the sky! She knows there's danger on thismountain. Now--"

He did not finish. Like a flash the cow had darted ahead of her calf, seeming to shoulder it back, and in another moment the two were racingswiftly into the North, the mother this time in the rear instead ofleading. 

"I love moose, " said Wabi, his eyes glowing. "Do you notice that Inever shoot them, Rod?"

"By George, so you don't! I never thought of it. What is the reason?"

"There are a good many reasons. Of course I have shot them, when invery great need of meat; but it's an unpleasant job for me. You callthe lion the king of beasts. Well, he isn't. The moose is monarch ofthem all. You saw how the mother moose acted. She led her calf whenapproaching, because if there should be danger she wanted to meet itfirst; and when she found danger she drove her calf ahead of her inretreat, so that if harm came to either of them it would come to her. Isn't that the human mother instinct? And the bull is glorious! In themating season he will face a dozen men in defense of his cow. If shefalls first he will stand between her body and the hunters' rifles, pawing the earth, his eyes glaring defiance, until he is riddled withbullets. Once I saw a wounded cow, and as she staggered away the bigbull that was with her hugged her close behind, never for a momentleaving her exposed to the fire, but unflinchingly taking every bulletin his own body. So beautiful was his courage that you would not haveknown he was wounded until he fell dead in his tracks, literally cutto pieces. It was that sight that made me swear never to kill anothermoose--unless I had to. "

Rod was silent. The mother and the calf had disappeared when he turnedto Wabigoon. 

"I'm glad you told me that, Wabi, " he said. "You are teaching me newthings about this big wilderness every day. I've shot one moose. Iwon't shoot another unless we need him. "

They went back to their old camp, and by the time Mukoki returned withhis second load everything was in shape for the night, and a supper ofdelicious bear steaks, coffee and "hot-stone biscuits, " as Rod calledtheir baked combination of flour, water and salt, was soon ready. After their meal the three sat for a long time near the fire, forthere was still a slight chill in the night air, and talkedmostly about Wolf and his adventures. Rod, in his distant home incivilization had read and heard much that was false about wildanimals, was confident that Wolf would find they had returned into thewilderness and would join them again, and to corroborate his beliefhe narrated several stories of similar happenings. Wabigoon listenedcourteously to him, which is the way of the Indian. Then he said:

"Such stories as those are false, Rod. When I spent my year at schoolwith you I read dozens of stories about wild animals, and very few ofthem were true. All sorts of people write about the wilderness, andyet not one out of a hundred of those same people have ever been inthe real wilderness. And it is wonderful what some of them make wildanimals do!"

Rod straightened himself with a jerk. 

"I have been here only a few months, Wabi, and yet I have seen morewonderful things about animals than I have ever read in print, " hedeclared. 

"Of course you have, " agreed his companion. "And there is just thepoint I want to make clear. Wild animals are the most wonderfulcreatures in existence, and if some of their actual habits andadventures were told they would be laughed at down where you camefrom. Where your writers make their mistake is in bringing them intotoo close association with human beings, and making them half human. Wolf remained with us because he knew no better. We caught him when hewas a whelp, and as he grew older both Mukoki and I could see that attimes he was filled with a wild longing to join his people. We knewthat it was coming. He will never return to us. "

Mukoki made a soft sound deep down in his throat, and Rod turnedsuddenly toward him. 

"You believe that, Mukoki?"

"Wolf gone!"

"But animals think, don't they?" persisted Rod, to whom the discussionwas of absorbing interest. "They reason, they remember!"

"They do all of that, " replied Wabi, "and more. I have read certainso-called natural history stories which ridiculed the idea of wildanimals possessing mental abilities, and which ascribed pretty nearlyall their actions to instinct. Such stories are as wrong as thosewhich give wild animals human endowments. Animals do think. Don't yousuppose that mother moose was thinking when she stopped out there inthe plain? Wasn't she turning the situation over in her mind, if youwant to speak of it as that, and mentally figuring just where thedanger lay, and in which direction she ought to take flight? Andbesides reason wild animals have instinct. One proof of this is theirsixth sense; the sense of--of--what do you call it?"

"Orientation?" assisted Rod. 

"Yes; that's it. Orientation. A bear, for instance, doesn't carrya compass with him, as some nature writers would like to have youbelieve, and yet he can go from this mountain to a den a hundred milesaway as straight as a bird can fly. That's instinct. "

"Then Wolf--" mused Rod slowly. 

"Is with the hunt pack, " finished the young Indian. 

Mukoki spoke softly, as though to himself. 

"Last winter the snow came, and now it is water. Two moons past, Wolf, heem tame. Now wild. The Great Spirit say that is right, I guess so. "

"He means that it is nature, " said Wabi. 

For an hour after the others had wrapped themselves in their blanketsRod sat alone beside the fire, listening, and thinking. And after thathe went to the edge of the plateau, and watched the great spring moonas it floated slowly over the vast, still wilderness. How wonderfulthese solitudes were, how little the teeming millions of civilizationknew about them! Somehow, in those moments, as he watched theshivering Northern Lights playing far beyond the farthest footstep ofman, there came to Roderick Drew the thought that God must be nearerto earth here than anywhere else in the world. For the first time hissoul was filled with something that was almost love for the red man'sGreat Spirit. And why not? For was not that Great Spirit his own God?Sad, lonely, silent, mysterious, a whole world lay before him, a worldthat was the Indian Bible, that contained for the red man of the Norththe teachings and the voice of the Creator of all things. A wind hadrisen and was whispering over the plains; he heard the hushed voicesof the quivering poplar boughs, and there came from far below him thesoft, chuckling, mating hoot of an owl. Gradually his eyes closed, and he leaned more heavily upon the rock against which he had seatedhimself. After that he dreamed of what he had looked upon, whilethe fire at the camp died away, and Mukoki and Wabigoon slumbered, oblivious of his absence. 

Of how long he slept Rod had no idea. He was suddenly brought backinto wakefulness by a sound that startled him to the marrow of hisbones, a terrible scream close to his ears. He sat bolt upright, quaking in every limb. For a moment he tried to cry out, but histongue clove to the roof of his mouth. What had happened? Was it Wabi, or Mukoki?

A dozen paces away was a huge rock and as he looked he saw somethingmove upon it, a long, lithe object that shone a silvery white in themoonlight, and he knew that it was a lynx. Stealthily Rod reached forhis rifle, which had slipped between his knees, and as he did so thelynx sent forth another of its blood-curdling screams. Even now thewhite youth shivered at the sound, so much like the terrible cry ofsome person in dying agony. He leveled his gun. There was a flash inthe moonlight, a sharp report, and a shout from the direction of thecamp. In another moment Rod was upon his feet, and sorry that he hadshot. It flashed upon him that he might have watched the lynx, one ofthe night pirates of all this strange wilderness, and that its pelt, at this season, would be worthless. He went to the rock cautiously. The lynx was not there. He walked around it, holding his rifle inreadiness for attack. The lynx was gone. He had made a clean miss!

Both Mukoki and Wabigoon met him on the opposite side of the rock. 

"'Nother heap big Woonga, " grinned the old pathfinder rememberingRod's former adventure on this same plateau. "Kill?"

"Missed!" said Rod shortly. "What a scream that was! Ugh!"

This time he went to bed with the others, and slept until early dawn. The morning was one of those rare gifts of budding spring, warm andredolent with the sweetness of new life, and its beauty acted as atonic on the three adventurers. Their fears of the day before weregone, and with song and whistle and cheery voice they began thedescent of the mountain. Mukoki went on ahead of Rod and Wabigoon withhis pack, and the two boys had not made more than two of the six milesin the portage across the plain when he met them again, returning forhis second load. By noon the canoe and its contents were safely atthe creek, and the gold hunters halted until after dinner. The littlestream across which Rod had easily leaped without wetting his feet afew weeks before had swollen into a fair-sized river, and in placesits searching waters had formed tiny lakes. Unlike the Ombabika, sweeping down from its mountain heights, there was but little currenthere, a fact that immensely pleased Mukoki and his companions. 

"We near mak' cabin to-night, " said the old Indian. "I take loadto-night. "

During the two hours' paddle up-stream Mukoki spoke but little, and asthey approached nearer to their last winter's thrilling fight with theWoongas, in which they had so nearly lost their lives, he ceased evento respond by nod or grunt to the conversation of his companions. OnceWabigoon spoke again of Wolf, and for an instant the old Indian, whowas in the bow, half turned to them, and for two strokes his paddlerested in mid air. From the stern Wabi reached forward and poked Rod, and the white youth understood. Next to Minnetaki and Wabigoon, andperhaps himself, he knew that the faithful pathfinder loved Wolf best, and that; he was filled with a little of that savage madness whichcame to him now and then when he dwelt on the terrible tragedy thathad entered his life many years before. When the hunters reached theend of their canoe journey up the stream Mukoki silently shoulderedhis pack and set out over the plain. He spoke no word, made no sign. 

"It would be useless, " said Wabigoon, as Rod made a movement as if tofollow and stop their comrade. "No persuasion could turn Mukoki now. He wants to reach the old camp to-night, where Wolf disappeared. Hewon't be back until morning. "

And Mukoki went on, never for an instant turning his face, until hiscompanions lost sight of him. But once out of their vision his, mannertook on a strange and sudden change. He lowered the head strap of hispack over his breast, so that he might clutch at it with one hand, andmove his head freely. His eyes glowed with the dull fire of wakeningexcitement; his steps were quick, and yet cautious, every movement inhis advance was one of listening and watchful expectancy. A personwatching the old warrior would have said that he was keenly on thealert for game, or danger. And yet the safety of his rifle was locked, a fresh trail of bear aroused no new interest in him, and when heheard a crashing in the brush on his right, where a buck had got windof him, he gave but a single glance in its direction. He was notseeking game. Nor were his fears aroused by suspicion of possibledanger. Wherever the ground was soft and moist he traveled slowly, with his eyes on the earth, and at one of these spots he came to asudden pause. Before him were the clearly defined imprints of a wolf'sfeet. 

With a low cry Mukoki threw off his pack and fell upon his knees. Hiseyes burned fiercely now. There was something of madness in the way inwhich he groveled in the soft earth, creeping from one footprint tothe next ahead of it, and stopping always where the right forefoothad left its track. It was that foot which had held Wolf a captive inMukoki's trap, and he had lost two toes. None was missing here, andthe old pathfinder rose to his feet again, disappointment shadowingthe twitching expectancy in his face. 

Five times that afternoon Mukoki fell on his knees beside the trailsof wolves, and five times the light of hope went out for a moment inhis eyes. It was sunset when he climbed the mountain ridge to thelittle lake hidden away in the dip; only a last pale glow tinted thesky behind the forests when he set down his pack close to the charredremains of the old cabin. For many minutes he rested, his gaze fixedon those blackened reminders of their thrilling battle for life thewinter before. His wild blood leaped again at the thought of thestrife, of the desperate race that he and Roderick had run over themountain to the burning cabin, and of their rescue of Wabigoon. Suddenly his eyes caught the white gleam of something half a hundredpaces away, and he rose and walked toward it, grunting and chucklingin half-savage pleasure. The Woongas had not returned to bury theirdead, and the bones beside which he stopped were those of the outlawwhom Wabigoon had killed, picked clean by the small animals of theforest. 

Mukoki returned to his pack and sat down As darkness fell about him hemade no effort to build a fire. He had brought food, but did not eatit. More dense grew the shadows in the forest, thicker the gloom thathung over the mountains. Still he sat, silent, listening. To him, softly and timidly at first, came the sounds of the night: thechuckling notes of birds that awakened when the earth masked itselfin darkness, the hoot of an owl, the faint wailing echo of a far-awaylynx cry, the plunge of a mink in the lake. And now the wind beganwhispering in the balsams, singing gently its age-old song ofloneliness, of desolation, of mystery, and Mukoki straightened himselfand looked to where the red glow of the moon was rising above themountain. After a little he rose to his feet, took his rifle, and climbed to the summit of the ridge, with a thousand miles ofwilderness sweeping between him and the Arctic sea somewhere out therein that wilderness--was Wolf!

The moon rose higher. It disclosed the old Indian, as rigid as a rock, with his back to a white, barkless tree in which the sap had run dry ageneration before. As he stood there he heard a sound, and turned hisface toward it, a sound that came from a mass of tumbled boulders, like the falling of a small rock upon a larger one. And as he lookedthere came from the darkness of the boulders a flash of fire and theexplosion of a gun, and as Mukoki crumpled down in his tracks therefollowed a cry so terrible, so unhuman, so blood-curdling that, ashe fell, an answering cry of horror burst from the lips of the oldwarrior. He lay like dead, though he was not touched. Instinct morethan reason had impelled him to fall at the sound of the mysteriousshot. Cautiously he wormed his rifle to his shoulder. But there cameno movement from the rocks. 

Then, from half-way down the mountain, there came again that terriblecry, and Mukoki knew that no animal in all these wilds could make it, but that it was human, and yet more savage than anything that had everbrought terror into his soul. Trembling, he crouched to the earth, anameless fear chilling the blood in his veins. And the cry came again, and yet again, always farther and farther away, now at the foot ofthe mountain, now upon the plain, now floating away toward the chasm, echoing and reechoing between the mountain ridges, startling thecreatures of the night into silence, and wresting deep sobbing breathsfrom out of Mukoki's soul. And the old warrior moved not a muscleuntil far away, miles and miles, it seemed, there died the last echoof it, and only the whispering winds rustled over the mountain top. 

CHAPTER XI

THE CRY IN THE CHASM

If Mukoki had been a white man he would have analyzed in some way themeaning of those strange cries. But the wild and its savage thingsformed his world; and his world, until this night, had never knownhuman or beast that could make the terrible sounds he had heard. Sofor an hour he crouched where he had fallen, still trembling withthat nameless fear, and trying hard to form a solution of what hadhappened. Slowly he recovered himself. For many years he had mingledwith white people at the Post and reason now battled with thesuperstitions of his race. 

He had been fired at. He had heard the whistling song of the ball overhis head, and had heard it strike the tree behind him. For a timethose rocks toward which he stared like fascinated beast had concealeda man. But what kind of man! He remembered the ancient battle-criesof his tribe, and of the enemies of his tribe, but none was like thecries that had followed the shot. He heard them still; they rang inhis ears, and sent shivering chills up his back. And the more he triedto reason the greater that nameless fear grew in him, until he slunklike an animal down the side of the mountain, through the dip, and outagain upon the plain. And with that same nameless fear always closebehind him, urging him on with its terrors, he sped back over thetrail that he had followed that day, nor for an instant did he stop torest until he came to the camp-fire of Rod and Wabigoon. 

Usually an Indian hides his fears; he conceals them as a white mandoes his sins. But to-night Mukoki's experience had passed beyond theknowledge of his race, and he told of what had happened, tremblingstill, cringing when a great white rabbit darted close to the fire. Rod and Wabi listened to him in mute astonishment. 

"Could it have been a Woonga?" asked Wabi. 

"No Woonga, " replied the old warrior quickly, shaking his head. "Woonga no mak' noise lak that!"

He drew away from the fire, wrapped himself in a blanket, and creptinto the shelter that Rod and Wabigoon had built. The two boys lookedat each other in silence. 

"Muky has certainly had some most extraordinary adventure, " said Wabiat last. "I have never seen him like this before. It is easy to guessthe meaning of the shot. Some of the Woongas may still be in thecountry, and one of them saw Mukoki, and fired at him. But the scream!What do you make of that?"

"Do you suppose, " whispered Rod, speaking close to his companion'sear, "that Mukoki's imagination helped him out to-night?" He pausedfor a moment as he saw the look of disapproval in Wabigoon's eyes, and then went on. "I don't mean to hint that he stretched his storypurposely. He was standing on the mountain top. Suddenly there came aflash of fire, the report of a rifle, and a bullet zipped close to hishead. And at that same instant, or a moment later--well, you rememberthe scream of the lynx!"

"You believe that it might have been a lynx, startled by the shot, andsent screaming across the plain?"

"Yes. "

"Impossible. At the sound of that shot a lynx would have remained asstill as death!"

"Still there are always exceptions, " persisted the white youth. 

"Not in the case of lynx, " declared Wabigoon. "No animal made thosecries. Mukoki is as fearless as a lion. The cry of a lynx would havestirred his blood with pleasure instead of fear. Whatever the soundswere they turned Mukoki's blood into water. They made him a coward, and he ran, ran, mind you! until he got back to us! Is that likeMukoki? I tell you the cries--"

"What?"

"Were something very unusual, " finished Wabigoon quietly, rising tohis feet "Perhaps we will find out more to-morrow. As it is, I believewe had better stand guard in camp to-night. I will go to bed now andyou can awaken me after a while. "

Wabigoon's words and the strangeness of his manner put Rod ill atease, despite his arguments of a few moments before, and no sooner didhe find himself alone beside the fire than he began to be filled withan unpleasant premonition of lurking danger. For a time he sat verystill, trying to peer into the shadows beyond the fire and listeningto the sounds that came to him from out of the night. As he watchedand listened his brain worked ceaselessly, conjuring picture afterpicture of what that danger might be, and at last he drew out of thefirelight and concealed himself in the deep gloom of the bush. Fromhere he could see the camp, and at the same time was safe from apossible rifle shot. 

The night passed with tedious slowness, and he was glad when, a littleafter midnight, Wabi came out to relieve him. At dawn he was in turnawakened by the young Indian. Mukoki was already up and had preparedhis pack. Apparently he had regained his old spirits, but both Rod andWabigoon could see that behind them the fear of the preceding nightstill haunted him. That morning he did not set off ahead of the twoboys with his pack but walked beside them, stopping to rest when theylowered their canoe, his eyes never ceasing their sharp scrutiny ofthe plain and distant ridges. Once when Mukoki mounted a big rock tolook about him, Wabi whispered, "I tell you it's strange, Rod--mighty strange!"

An hour later the old warrior halted and threw off his load. The threehad approached within a quarter of a mile of the dip in the mountain. 

"Leave canoe here, " he said. "Go lak fox to old camp. Mebbe see!"

He took the lead now, followed closely by the boys. The safety of theold pathfinder's rifle was down, and following his example Rod andWabigoon held their own guns in readiness for instant fire. As theyneared the summit of the ridge on which Mukoki's life had beenattempted the suspense of the two young hunters became almostpainfully acute. Mukoki's actions not only astonished them, butset their blood tingling with his own strange fear. Many times hadWabigoon seen his faithful comrade in moments of deadly peril butnever, even when the Woongas were close upon their trail, had he knownhim to take them as seriously as he did the ascent of this mountain. Every few steps Mukoki paused, listening and watchful. Not thesmallest twig broke under his moccasined feet; the movement of thesmallest bird, the trembling of a bush, the scurry of a rabbit haltedhim, rigid, his rifle half to shoulder. And Rod and Wabigoon soonbecome filled with this same panic-stricken fear. What terrible dreadwas it that filled Mukoki's soul? Had he seen something of which hehad not told them? Did he think something which he had not revealed?

Foot by foot the three came to the top of the ridge. There Mukokistraightened himself, and stood erect. There were no signs of a livingcreature about them. Down in the dip nestled the little lake, gleamingin the midday sun. They could make out the debris of the burned cabinin which they had passed their hunting season, and close to this wasthe pack which Mukoki had dropped there the night before. No one hadmolested it. Wabi's face relaxed. Rod, breathing easier, laughedsoftly. What had there been to fear? He glanced questioningly atMukoki. 

"There rocks, there tree, " said the old warrior, in answer to Rod'sglance, "down there went scream!" He pointed far out across the plain. 

Wabi had gone to the tree. 

"See here, Rod!" he cried. "By George, this was a close shave!" Hepointed to a tiny hole freshly made in the smooth white surface of thetree as the others came up. "There--stand there, Mukoki, back to thetree, as you said you were when the shot was fired. Great Caesar, thatfellow had a dead line on your head--two inches high! No wonder itmade you think the scream of a lynx was something else!"

"No lynx, " said Mukoki, his face darkening. 

"Shame on you, Muky!" laughed Wabigoon. "Don't get angry. I won't sayit again if it makes you mad. "

Rod had drawn his hunting-knife and was prodding the point of it inthe bullet hole. 

"I can feel the ball, " he said. "It's not in more than an inch. "

"That's curious, " exclaimed Wabigoon, coming close beside him. "Itought to be half-way through the tree at least! Eh, Muky? I don'tbelieve it would have hurt--"

He stopped. Rod had turned with a sudden excited cry. He held out hisknife, tip upward, and pointed to it with the index finger of his freehand. Wabi's eyes fell on the tip of the blade. Mukoki stared. For afull half minute the three stood in speechless amazement. Clinging tothe knife tip was a tiny fleck of yellow, gleaming lustrously in thesun as Rod slowly turned the handle of his weapon. 

"Another--gold--bullet!"

The words fell from Wabi's lips very slowly, and so low that they werescarce above a whisper. Mukoki seemed to have ceased breathing. Rod'seyes met the old warrior's. 

"What does it mean?"

Wabi had pulled his knife and was digging into the tree. A few deepcuts and the golden bullet lay exposed to view. 

"What does it mean?" repeated the white youth. 

Again he addressed his question to Mukoki. 

"Man who shoot bear--heem no dead, " replied the old pathfinder. "Samegun, same gold, same--"

"Same what?"

A strange gleam came for an instant into Mukoki's eyes, and withoutfinishing he turned and pointed across the narrow plain that laybetween them and the mysterious chasm which they were to follow intheir search for treasure. 

"Cry went there!" he said shortly. 

"To the chasm!" said Wabi. 

"To the chasm!" repeated Rod. 

Impelled by the same thought the three adventurers went toward therocks from which the shot had been fired. Surely they would discoversome sign there, or lower down upon the plain, where the melting snowshad softened the earth. Mukoki led in the search, and foot by footthey examined the spot where the mysterious marksman must have stoodwhen he sent his golden bullet so close to the Indian's head. 

But not a trace of his presence had he left behind. Working abreast, the three began the descent of the ridge. Hardly had they covered athird of the distance to the plain when Wabi, who was trailing betweenRod and the old Indian, called out that he had made a discovery. Mukoki had already reached him when Rod came up, and the two weregazing silently at something fluttering from a bush. 

"Lynx hair!" cried Rod. "A lynx has been this way!" He could notentirely conceal the triumph in his voice. He had been right in hisconjecture of the night before, the cry that had frightened Mukoki hadbeen made by a lynx!

"Yes, a lynx has been this way, a lynx four feet high, " said Wabigoonquietly, and the touch of raillery in his voice assured Rod that hehad still other lessons to learn in the life of this big wilderness. "Lynx don't grow that big, Rod!"

"Then it's--" Rod feared to go on. 

"Lynx fur. That's just what it is. Whoever fired at Mukoki last nightwas dressed in skins! Now, can you tell us what that means?"

Without waiting for an answer Wabigoon resumed his search. But themountain side gave no further evidence. Not a footprint was found uponthe plain. If the mysterious person who had fired the golden bullethad leaped from the mountain top into space he could have left nofewer traces behind him. At the end of an hour Rod and his companionsreturned to the canoe, carried their loads to the pack in the dip, and prepared dinner. Their suspense and fear, and specially Mukoki'sdread, were in a large measure gone. But at the same time they weremore hopelessly mystified than ever. That there was danger ahead ofthem, that the menace of golden bullets was actual and thrilling, allthree were well agreed, but the sunlight of day and a little soundreasoning had dispelled their half superstitious terrors of theprevious night and they began to face the new situation with theirformer confidence. 

"We can't let this delay us, " said Wabi, as they ate their dinner. "Bynight we ought to be in our old camp at the head of the chasm, wherewe held the Woongas at bay last winter. The sooner we get out of theway of these golden bullets the better it will be for us!"

Mukoki shrugged his shoulders. 

"Gold bullet follow, I guess so, " he grunted, "Cry went there--tochasm!"

"I don't believe this fellow, whoever he is, will hang to our trail, "continued Wabi, giving Rod a suggestive look. A few moments later hefound an opportunity to whisper, "We've got to get that cry out ofMuky's head, Rod, or we'll never find our gold!"

When Mukoki had gone to arrange his pack the young Indian spokeearnestly to his companion. 

"Muky isn't afraid of bullets, either gold or lead; he isn't afraid ofany danger on earth. But that cry haunts him. He is trying not tolet us know, yet it haunts him just the same. Do you know what he isthinking? No? Well, I do! He is superstitious, like the rest of hisrace, and the two gold bullets, the terrible cries, and the fact thatwe found no tracks upon the plain are all carrying him toward oneconclusion, that the strange thing that fired at him is--"

Wabigoon paused and wiped his face, and it was easy for Rod to seethat he was suppressing some unusual excitement. 

"What does he think it is?"

"I'm not sure, not quite sure, yet, " went on the Indian youth. "Butlisten! It is a legend in Mukoki's tribe, and always has been, thatonce in every so many generations they are visited by a terriblewarrior sent by the Great Spirit who takes sacrifice of them, asacrifice of human life, because of a great wrong that was once doneby their people. And this warrior, though invisible, has a voice thatmakes the mountains quake and the rivers stand still with fear, andin his great bow he shoots shafts that are made of gold! Do youunderstand? Last night I heard Mukoki talking about it in his sleep. Either we must hear this cry, and find out more about it, or hurry toa place where it won't be heard again. Golden bullets and cries andMukoki's superstitions are going to be worse than Woongas if we don'twatch out!"

"But the whole thing is as plain as day!" declared Rod inastonishment. "A man shot at the bear, and the same man shot atMukoki, and he fired gold each time. Surely--"

"It's not the man part of it, " interrupted the other. "It's the cry. There, Mukoki has his pack ready. Let's start for the chasm at once!"

This time the boys had a heavier burden than usual, for in the canoethey placed one of the two loads carried by Mukoki, and consequentlytheir progress toward the chasm was much slower than that across theplain. It was late in the afternoon when they reached the break thatled into the chasm, and as they cautiously made the descent now Rodthought of the thrilling pursuit of the Woonga horde, and how a fewweeks before they had discovered this break just in time for Wabi andhim to save their lives, and that of the wounded Mukoki. It was with afeeling almost of awe that the three adventurers penetrated deeper anddeeper into the silent gloom of this mystery-filled gulch between themountains, and when they reached the bottom they set their loads downwithout speaking, their eyes roving over the black walls of rock, their hearts throbbing a little faster with excitement. 

For here, at this break in the mountain, began the romantic traildrawn by men long dead, the trail that led to a treasure of gold. 

As the three sat in silence, the gloom in the chasm thickened. The sunhad passed beyond the southwestern forests, and through the narrowrift between the mountain walls there fell but the ebbing light ofday, dissolving itself into the shadows of dusk as it struggled weaklyin the cavernous depths. For a few minutes this swift fading of dayinto night gripped the adventurers in its spell. What did the lonelysolitudes of that chasm hold for them? Where would they lead them? ToRod's mind there came a picture of the silver fox and a thought ofhis dream, when for a few miles he had explored the mysteries of thisstrange, sunless world shut in by rock walls. Again he saw the dancingskeletons, heard the rattle of their bones, and watched the wonderfuldream-battle that had led him to the birch-bark map. Wabigoon, hiseyes gleaming in the gathering darkness, thought of their flight fromthe outlaw savages, and Mukoki--

The white youth had turned a little to look at the old warrior. Mukokisat as rigid as a pillar of stone an arm's reach from him. Head erect, arms tense, his eyes gleaming strangely, he stared straight out intothe gloom between the chasm walls. Rod shivered. He knew, knew withoutquestioning, that Mukoki was thinking of the cry!

And at that instant there floated up from the black chaos ahead asound, a sound low and weird, like the moaning of a winter's windthrough the pine tops, swelling, advancing, until it ended in ashriek--a shriek that echoed and reëchoed between the chasm walls, dying away in a wail that froze the blood of the three who sat andlistened!

CHAPTER XII

WABI MAKES A STRANGE DISCOVERY

Mukoki broke the silence which followed the terrible cry. With achoking sound, as if some unseen hand were clutching at his throat, heslipped from the rock upon which he was sitting and crouched behindit, his rifle gleaming faintly as he leveled it down the chasm. Therecame the warning click of Wabigoon's gun, and the young Indian hunchedhimself forward until he was no more than an indistinct shadow in thefast-deepening gloom of night. Only Rod still sat erect. For a momenthis heart seemed to stand still. Then something leaped into his brainand spread like fire through his veins, calling him to his feet, trembling with the knowledge of what that cry had told him! It was nota lesson from the wilderness that Roderick Drew was learning now. Asfast as the mind could travel he had gone far back into the strife andmisery and madness of civilization, and there he found the languageof that fearful cry floating up the chasm. He had heard it once, twice--yes, again and again, and the memory of it had burned deep downinto his soul. He turned to his companions, trying to speak, but thehorror that had first filled Mukoki now fastened itself on him, andhis tongue was lifeless. 

"A madman!"

Wabi's fingers dug into his arm like the claws of a bear. 

"A what!"

"A madman!" repeated Rod, trying to speak more calmly. "The man whoshot the bear and fired at Mukoki and who uses gold bullets in his gunis mad--raving mad! I have heard those screams before--in the Eloiseinsane asylum, near Detroit. He's--"

The words were frozen on his lips. Again the cry echoed up thechasm. It was nearer this time, and with a sobbing, terrified sound, something that Wabi had never heard fall from Mukoki's lips before, the old warrior clung to Roderick's arm. Darkness hid the terror inhis face, but the white boy could feel it in the grip of his hands. 

"Mad, raving mad!" he cried. Suddenly he gripped Mukoki fiercely bythe shoulders, and as Wabigoon crouched forward, ready to fire at thefirst movement in the gloom, he thrust the butt of his rifle in hisback. "Don't shoot!" he commanded. "Mukoki, don't be a fool! That'sa man back there, a man who has suffered and starved, starved, mindyou!--until he's mad, stark mad! It would be worse than murder to killhim!"

He stopped, and Mukoki drew back a step, breathing deeply. 

"Heem--starve--no eat--gone bad dog?" he questioned softly. In aninstant Wabi was at his side. 

"That's it, Muky--he's gone bad dog, just like that husky of ours whowent bad because he swallowed a fish bone. White men sometimes go baddog when they are thirsty and starving!"

"Our Great Spirit tells us that we must never harm them, " added Rod. "We put them in big houses, larger than all of the houses at the Posttogether, and feed them and clothe them and care for them all theirlives. Are you afraid of a bad dog, Muky, or of a man who has gone baddog?"

"Bad dog bite deep--mebby so we kill heem!"

"But we don't kill them until we have to, " persisted the quick-wittedWabigoon, who saw the way in which Rod's efforts were being directed. "Didn't we save our husky by taking the fish bone out of his throat?We must save this bad dog, because he is a white man, like Rod. Hethinks all men are his enemies, just as a bad dog thinks all otherdogs are his enemies. So we must be careful and not give him a chanceto shoot us but we mustn't harm him!"

"It will be best if we don't let him know we are in the chasm, " saidRod, still speaking for Mukoki's benefit. "He's probably going out onthe plain, and must climb up this break in, the mountain. Let's moveour stuff a little out of his path. "

As the two boys went to the canoe their hands touched. Wabi wasstartled by the coldness of his friend's fingers. 

"We've fixed Mukoki, " he whispered. "He won't shoot. But--"

"We may have to, " replied Rod. "That will be up to you and me, Wabi. We must use judgment, and unless it's a case of life or death--"

"Ugh!" shuddered the young Indian. 

"If he doesn't discover our presence to-night we will get out of hisway to-morrow, " continued Rod. "No fire--no talking. We must be asstill as death!"

For some time after their outfit was concealed among the rocksWabigoon sat with his mouth close to the old pathfinder's ear. Then hereturned to Rod. 

"Muky understands. He has never seen or heard of a madman, and it ishard for him to comprehend. But he knows--now, and understands what hemust do. "

"Sh-h-h-h-h!"

"What is it?"

"I thought I heard a sound!" breathed Rod. "Did you hear it?"

"No. "

The two listened. There was an awesome silence in the chasm now, broken only by the distant murmur of running water, a strange, chilling stillness in which the young hunters could hear the excitedbeating of their own hearts. To Roderick the minutes passed like somany hours. His ears were keyed to the highest tension of expectancy, his eyes stared into the gloom beyond them until they ached withhis efforts to see. At every instant he expected to hear again thatterrible scream, this time very near, and he prepared himself to meetit. But the seconds passed, and then the minutes, and still there cameno quick running of mad footsteps, no repetition of the cry. Had themadman turned the other way? Was he plunging deeper into the blacknessof this mysterious world of his between the mountains?

"I guess I was mistaken, " he whispered softly to Wabigoon. "Shall weget out our blankets?"

"We might as well make ourselves comfortable, " replied the youngIndian. "You sit here, and listen while I undo the pack. "

He went noiselessly to Mukoki, who was leaning against the pack, andRod could hear them fumbling at the straps on the bundle. After alittle Wabi returned and the two boys spread out their blankets besidethe rock upon which they had been sitting. But there was no thought ofsleep in the mind of either, though both were dead tired from theirlong day's work. They sat closer together, shoulder touching shoulder, and unknown to his companion Roderick drew his revolver, cocked itsilently and placed it where he could feel the cold touch of its steelbetween his fingers. He knew that he was the only one of the three whofully realized the horror of their situation. 

Mukoki's mind, simple in its reasoning of things that did not belongto the wilderness, had accepted the assurances and explanations ofRod and Wabigoon. Wabi, half-bred in the wild, felt alarm only in thesense of physical peril. It was different with the white youth. Whatis there in civilization that sends the chill of terror to one's heartmore quickly than the presence of a human being who has gone mad? Andthis madman was at large! At that very instant he might be listeningto their breathing and their whispered words half a dozen feet away;any moment might see the blackness take form and the terrible thinghurl itself at their throats. Rod, unlike Wabigoon, knew that thepowers of this strange creature of the chasm were greater than theirown, that it could travel with the swiftness and silence of an animalthrough the darkness, that perhaps it could smell them and feel theirpresence as it passed on its way to the plain. He was anxious now tohear the cry again. What was the meaning of this silence? Was themadman already conscious of their presence? Was he creeping upon themat that moment, as still as the black shadows that shut in theirvision? His mind was working in such vivid imaginings that he wasstartled when Wabi prodded him gently in the side. 

"Look over there--across the chasm, " he whispered. "See that glow onthe mountain wall?"

"The moon!" replied Rod. 

"Yes. I've been watching it, and it's creeping down and down. Themoon is going to swing across this break in the mountains. In fifteenminutes we shall be able to see. "

"It won't swing across so much as it will come up in line with us, "replied Rod. "Watch how that light is lengthening! We shall be able tosee for several hours. "

He started to rise to his feet but fell back with an astonished cry. For a third time there came the mad hunter's scream, this time farabove and beyond them, floating down from the distance of the moon-litplain!

"He passed us!" exclaimed Wabi. "He passed us--and we didn't hearhim!" He leaped to his feet and his voice rose excitedly until it rangin a hundred echoes between the chasm walls. "He passed us, and wedidn't hear him!"

Mukoki's voice came strangely from out of the gloom. 

"No man do that! No man--no man--"

"Hush!" commanded Rod. "Now is our time, boys! Quick, get everythingto the creek. He's half a mile out on the plain and we can get awaybefore he comes back. I'd rather risk a few rocks than another one ofhis golden bullets!"

"So had I!" cried Wabi. 

As if their lives depended on their exertions the three set to work. Mukoki staggered ahead over the rocks with his burden while the boysfollowed with the light canoe and the remaining pack. Their previousexperiences in the chasm had taught them where to approach the stream, and ten minutes later they were at its side. Without a moment'shesitation Mukoki dropped his pack and plunged in. The edge of themoon was just appearing over the southern mountain wall and by itslight Rod and Wabigoon could see that the water of the creek wasrushing with great swiftness as high as the old warrior's knees. 

"No ver' deep, " said the Indian. "Rocks--"

"I followed this creek for half a dozen miles and its bottom is assmooth as a floor!" interrupted Rod. "There's no danger of rocks forthat distance!"

He made no effort now to suppress the pleasure which he felt at theescape from their unpleasant situation. Mukoki steadied the canoe asit was placed in the water, and was the last to climb into it, takinghis usual position in the stern where he could use to best advantagethe powerful sweeps of his paddle. In an instant the swift currentof the little stream caught the birch bark and carried it along withremarkable speed. After several futile strokes of his paddle Wabisettled back upon his heels. 

"It's all up to you, Muky, " he called softly. "I can't do a thing fromthe bow. The current is too swift. All you can do is to keep her nosestraight. "

The light of the moon was now filling the chasm and the adventurerscould see distinctly for a hundred yards or more ahead of them. Eachminute seemed to add to the swiftness and size of the stream, and bythe use of his paddle Wabi found that it was constantly deepening, until he could no longer touch bottom. Rod's eyes were ceaselessly onthe alert for familiar signs along the shore. He was sure that heknew when they passed the spot where he killed the silver fox, andhe called Wabi's attention to it. Then the rocks sped past withincreasing swiftness, and as the moon rose higher the three could seewhere the overflowing torrent sent out little streams that twistedand dashed themselves into leaping foam in the wildness of the chasmbeyond the main channel. These increased in number and size as thejourney continued, until Mukoki began to feel the influence of theircurrents and called on Wabi and Rod for assistance. Suddenly Rod gavea muffled shout as they shot past a mass of huge boulders on theirright. 

"That's where I camped the night I dreamed of the skeletons!" hecried. "I don't know what the stream is like from here on. Becareful!"

Wabi gave a terrific lunge with his paddle and the cone of a blackrock hissed past half a canoe length away. 

"It's as black as a dungeon ahead, and I can hear rocks!" he shouted. "Bring her in if you can, Muky, bring her in!"

There came the sudden sharp crack of snapping wood and a lowexclamation of alarm fell from Mukoki. His paddle had broken at theshaft. In a flash Rod realized what had happened and passed back hisown, but that moment's loss of time proved almost fatal. Freed of itsguiding hand the birch bark swung broadside to the current, and at thesame time Wabi's voice rose in a shrill cry of warning. 

"It's not rocks, it's a whirlpool!" he yelled. "The other shore, swingher out, swing her out!"

He dug his own paddle deep down into the racing current and frombehind Mukoki exerted his most powerful efforts, but it was too late!A hundred feet ahead the stream tore between two huge rocks as big ashouses, and just beyond these Rod caught a glimpse of frothing waterchurning itself milk-white in the moonlight. But it was only aglimpse. With a velocity that was startling the canoe shot betweenthe rocks, and as a choking sea of spray leaped into their facesWabigoon's voice came back again in a loud command for the others tohang to the gunwales of their frail craft. For an instant, in whichhis thoughts seemed to have left him, a roaring din filled Rod's ears;a white, churning mist hid everything but his own arms and clutchinghands, and then the birch bark darted with the sudden impetus of afreshly-shot arrow around the jagged edge of the boulder--and he couldsee again. 

Here was the whirlpool! More than once Wabi had told him of thesetreacherous traps, made by the mountain streams, and of the almostcertain death that awaited the unlucky canoe man drawn into theirsmothering embrace. There was no angry raging of the flood here; atfirst it seemed to Rod that they were floating almost without motionupon a black, lazy sea that made neither sound nor riffle. Scarce halfa dozen canoe lengths away he saw the white center of the maelstrom, and there came to his ears above the dash of the stream between thetwo great rocks a faint hissing sound that curdled the blood in hisveins, the hissing of the treacherous undertow that would soon dragthem to their death! In the passing of a thought there flashed intothe white youth's mind a story that Mukoki had told him of an Indianwho had been lost in one of these whirlpools of the spring floods, andwhose body had been tossed and pitched about in its center for morethan a week. For the first time the power of speech came to him. 

"Shall we jump?" he shouted. 

"Hang to the canoe. "

Wabi fairly shrieked the words, and yet as he spoke he drew himselfhalf erect, as if about to leap into the flood. The momentum gatheredin its swift rush between the rocks had carried their frail craftalmost to the outer edge of the deadly trap, and as this momentumceased and the canoe yielded to the sucking forces of the maelstromthe young Indian shrieked out his warning again. 

"Hang to the canoe!"

The words were scarcely out of his mouth when he stood erect andlaunched himself like an animal into the black depths toward shore. With a terrified cry Rod rose to his knees. In another instant hewould have plunged recklessly after Wabi, but Mukoki's voice soundingbehind him, snarling in its fierceness, stopped him. 

"Hang to canoe!"

There came a jerk. The bow of the canoe swung inward and the sternwhirled so quickly that Rod, half kneeling, nearly lost his balance. In that instant he turned his face and saw the old warrior standing, as Wabigoon had done before him, and as Mukoki leaped there came for athird time that warning cry:

"Hang to canoe!"

And Rod hung. He knew that for some reason those commands were meantfor him, and him alone; he knew that the desperate plunges of hiscomrades were not inspired by cowardice or fear, but not until thebirch bark ground upon the shore and he tumbled out in safety did hefully comprehend what had happened. Holding the rope with which theytied their canoe, Wabigoon had taken a desperate chance. His quickmind had leaped like a flash of powder to their last hope, and at thecrucial moment, just as the momentum of the birch bark gave way to thewhirling forces of the pool, he had jumped a good seven feet towardshore, and had found bottom! Another twelve inches of water under himand all would have been lost. 

Wabigoon stood panting and dripping wet, and in the moonlight his facewas as white as the tub-like spot of foam out in the center of themaelstrom. 

"That's what you call going to kingdomcome and getting out again!" hegasped. "Muky, that was the closest shave we've ever had! It has youravalanche beaten to a frazzle!"

Mukoki was dragging the canoe upon the pebbly shore, and stillovercome by the suddenness of all that had happened Rod went to hisassistance. 

The adventurers now discovered themselves in a most interestingsituation. The night had indeed been one of curious and thrillinghappenings for them, and here was a pretty climax to it all! They hadescaped the mad hunter by running into the almost fatal grip of thewhirlpool, and now they had escaped the perils of that seethingdeath-trap by plunging into a tiny rock-bound prison which seemeddestined to hold them for all time, or at least until the floods ofspring subsided. Straight above them, and shutting them in entirely, rose precipitous rock walls. On the only open side was the deadlymaelstrom. 

Even Mukoki as he glanced about him was struck by the humor of theirsituation, and chuckled softly. 

Wabi stood with his hands deep in his soaked pockets, facing themoonlit walls. Then he turned to Rod, and grinned; then he faced thewhirlpool, and after that his eyes swept the space of sky above them. The situation was funny, at first; but when he looked at the whiteyouth again the smile had died out of his face. 

"Wouldn't that madman have fun if he found us now!" he whispered. 

Mukoki was traveling slowly around the rock walls. The space in whichthey were confined was not more than fifty feet in diameter, and therewas not even a crack by means of which a squirrel might have foundexit. The prison was perfect. The old pathfinder came back and satdown with a grunt. 

"We might as well have supper and a good sleep, " suggested Rod, who was hungry. "Surely we need fear no attack from beast or manto-night!"

At least there was this consolation, and the gold hunters ate ahearty meal of cold bear meat and prepared for slumber. The nightwas unusually warm, and both Mukoki and Wabigoon hung out their wetclothes to dry while they slept in their blankets. Rod did not openhis eyes again until Wabi awakened him in the morning. Both Indianswere dressed and it was evident that they had been up for some time. When Rod went to the water to wash himself he was surprised to findall of their supplies repacked in the canoe, as though their journeywas about to be resumed immediately after breakfast, and when hereturned to where Mukoki and Wabigoon had placed their food on aflat stone in the center of what he had regarded as their prison, heobserved that both of his companions were in an unusually cheerfulframe of mind. 

"Looks as though you expected to get out of here pretty soon, " hesaid, nodding toward the canoe. 

"So we do!" responded Wabi. "We're going to take a swim through thewhirlpool!"

He laughed at the incredulity in Rod's face. 

"That is, we're going to navigate along the edge of it, " he amended. "Muky and I have tied together every bit of rope and strap in ouroutfit, even to our gun-slings, and we've got a piece about eightyfeet long. We'll show you how to use it after breakfast. "

It took but a few minutes to dispose of the rather unappetizing repastof cold bear meat, biscuits and water. Wabi then led the way to theextreme edge of the great rock which formed the eastern wall of theirprison, waded in the water to his knees, and directed Rod's gaze to apoint of land jutting out into the stream about sixty feet beyond therock. 

"If we can reach that, " explained Wabi, "we can portage around therest of the whirlpool to the main channel. The water is very deepalong the edge of this rock, but the undertow doesn't seem to have anygreat force. I believe that we can make it. The experiment won't be adangerous one at any rate. "

The canoe was now dragged to the edge of the rock and launched, Mukokitaking his place in the stern while Wabigoon placed Rod a little aheadof the midship rib. 

"You must paddle on your left side, every minute and as fast as youcan, " advised the young Indian. "I am to remain behind, holding oneend of this rope, so that if you are drawn toward the maelstrom I canpull you back. Understand?"

"Yes--but you. How--"

"Oh, I'll swim!" said Wabi in rank bravado. "I don't mind a littlewhirlpool like that at all!"

Mukoki chuckled in high humor, and Roderick asked no more questions, but at Wabi's command dug in his paddle and kept at it until the birchbark safely made the point of land beyond the rock. When he lookedback Wabi had tied the rope around his body and was already waistdeep in the water. At a signal from Mukoki the young Indian plungedfearlessly into the edge of the whirlpool and like a great flounderingfish he was quickly pulled across to safety. Most of his clothes hadbeen brought over in the canoe, and after Wabigoon had exchanged hiswet garments for these the adventurers were ready to continue theirjourney down the chasm. A short portage brought them to the mainchannel of the stream, where they once more launched their birch bark. 

"If the whole trip is as exciting as this we'll never reach our gold, "said Wabi, as they slipped out into the swift current. "A madman, awhirlpool and a prison, all in one night, is almost more than we canstand. "

"There's a good deal of truth in the old saying that it never rainsbut it pours, " replied Rod. "Maybe we'll have smooth sailing from nowon. "

"Mebby!" grunted the old pathfinder from behind. 

Rod's optimism was vindicated for that day, at least. Until noon thecanoe sped swiftly down the chasm without mishap. The stream, to whicheach mile added its contribution of flood water from the mountaintops, increased constantly in width and depth, but only now and thenwas there a rock to threaten their progress, and no driftwood at all. When the gold seekers landed for dinner they were confident of twothings: that they had passed far beyond the mad hunter's reach, and were very near to the first waterfall. Memory of the thrillingexperiences through which they had so recently run the gauntlet wasreplaced by the most exciting anticipation of the sound and sightof that first waterfall, which was so vitally associated with theirsearch for the lost treasure. This time a hearty dinner was cooked, and it took more than an hour to prepare and eat it. 

When the journey was resumed Mukoki placed himself in the bow, hissharp eyes scanning the rocks and mountain walls ahead of him. Twohours after the start he gave an exultant exclamation, and raised awarning hand above his head. The three listened. Faintly above therush of the swift current there came to their ears the distant rumbleof falling water!

Forgetful now of the madman back in the chasm, oblivious of everythingbut the fact that they had at last reached the first of the threefalls which were to lead them to the gold, Wabi gave a whoop thatechoed and reëchoed between the mountain walls, and Rod joined himwith all the power of his lungs. Mukoki grinned, chuckled in hiscurious way, and a few moments later signaled Wabi to guide the canoeashore. 

"We portage here, " he explained. "Current swift there--mebby go overfall!"

A short carry of two or three hundred yards brought them to thecataract. It was, as Mukoki had said after his long trip ofexploration a few months before, a very small fall, not more than adozen feet in height. But over it there was now rushing a thunderingdeluge of water. An easy trail led to the stream below it, and no timewas lost in getting under way again. 

Although they had traveled fully forty miles since morning, the dayhad been an easy and most interesting one for the three adventurers. On the swift current of the chasm stream they had worked but little, and the ceaseless change of scenery in this wonderful break betweenthe mountain ridges held an ever-increasing fascination for them. Latein the afternoon, the course changed from its northeasterly directionto due north, and at this point there was an ideal spot for camping. Over an extent of an acre or more there was a sweeping hollow of finewhite sand, with great quantities of dry wood cluttering the edge ofthe depression. 

"That's a curious spot!" said Wabi as they drew up their canoe. "Lookslike--"

"A lake, " grunted Mukoki. "Long time ago--a lake. "

"The curve of the stream right here has swept up so much sand that thewater can't get into it, " added Rod, looking the place over. 

Wabi had gone a few paces back. Suddenly he stopped, and with a halfshout he gesticulated excitedly to his companions. Something in hismanner took Rod and Mukoki to him on the run. 

When they came up the Indian youth stood mutely pointing at somethingin the sand. 

Clearly imprinted in that sand was the shape of a human foot, a footthat had worn neither boot nor moccasin when it left its trail in thelake bed, but which was as naked as the quivering hand which Wabigoonnow held toward it!

And from that single footprint the eyes of the astonished adventurerstraveled quickly to a hundred others, until it seemed to them that adozen naked savages must have been dancing in these sands only a fewhours before. 

And Rod, glancing toward the driftwood, saw something else, --somethingtoward which he pointed, speechless, white with that same strangeexcitement that had taken possession of Wabigoon!

CHAPTER XIII

THE THIRD WATERFALL

The others followed Rod's arm. Behind him he heard the gentle clickof Wabigoon's revolver and the sharp, vicious snap of the safety onMukoki's rifle. 

From beyond the driftwood there was rising a thin spiral of smoke!

"Whoever they are, they have certainly seen or heard us!" said Wabi, after they had stood in silence for a full minute. 

"Unless they are gone from camp, " replied Rod in a whisper. 

"Keep eyes open!" warned Mukoki as they advanced cautiously in thedirection of the smoke. "No can tell what, I guess so!"

He was first to mount the driftwood, and then he gave vent to a hugegrunt. The smoke was rising from beside a charred log which was heapedhalf-way up its side with ashes and earth. In a flash the meaningof the ash and dirt dawned on Rod and his companions. The fire wasbanked. Those who had built it were gone, but they expected to return. The naked footprints were thick about the camp-fire, and close to oneend of the charred log were scattered a number of bones. One afteranother Mukoki picked up several of these and closely examinedthem. While Rod and Wabigoon were still gazing about them in blankastonishment, half expecting attack from a savage horde at any moment, the old warrior had already reached a conclusion, and calling to hiscompanions he brought their attention to the tracks in the sand. 

"Same feet!" he exclaimed. "One man mak' all track!"

"Impossible!" cried Wabi. "There are--thousands of them!"

Mukoki grunted and fell upon his knees. 

"Heem big toe--right foot--broke sometime. Same in all track. See?"

Disgusted at his own lack of observation, Wabigoon saw at once thatthe old pathfinder was right. The joint of the big toe on the rightfoot was twisted fully half an inch outward, a deformity that lefta peculiar impression in the sand, and every other track borethis telltale mark. No sooner were the two boys convinced of thecorrectness of Mukoki's assertion than another and still morestartling surprise was sprung on them. Holding out his handful ofbones, Mukoki said:

"Meat no cook--eat raw!"

"Great Scott!" gasped Rod. 

Wabi's eyes flashed with a new understanding, and as he gazed intoRod's astonished face the latter, too, began to comprehend thesignificance of it all. 

"It must have been the madman!"

"Yes. "

"And he was here yesterday!"

"Probably the day before, " said Wabi. The young Indian turned suddenlyto Mukoki. "What did he want of the fire if he didn't cook meat?" heasked. 

Mukoki shrugged his shoulders but did not answer. 

"Well, it wasn't cooked, anyway, " declared Wabi, again examining thebones. "Here are chunks of raw flesh clinging to the bones. Perhaps hejust singed the outside of his meat. "

The old Indian nodded at this suggestion and turned to investigate thefire. On the end of the log were two stones, one flat and the otherround and smooth, and after a moment's inspection of these he droppedan exclamation which was unusual for him, and which he used only inthose rare intervals when all other language seemed to fail him. 

"Bad dog man--mak' bullet--here!" he called, holding out the stones. "See--gold--gold!"

The boys hurried to his side. 

"See--gold!" he repeated excitedly. 

In the center of the flat stone there was a gleaming yellow film. Asingle glance told the story. With the round stone for a hammer themad hunter had pounded his golden bullets into shape upon the flatstone! There was no longer a doubt in their minds; they were in themadman's camp. That morning they had left this strange creature of thewilderness fifty miles away. But how far away was he now? The fireslumbering under its covering of ash and earth proved that he meant toreturn--and soon. Would he travel by night as well as by day? Was itpossible that he was already close behind them?

"He travels with the swiftness of an animal, " said Wabi, speaking in alow voice to Rod. "Perhaps he will return to-night!"

Mukoki overheard him and shook his head. 

"Mak' heem through chasm in two day on snow-shoe, " he declared, referring to his trip of exploration to the first waterfall over thesnows of the previous winter. "No mak' in t'ree day over rock!"

"If Mukoki is satisfied, I am, " said Rod. "We can pull up behind thedriftwood on the farther edge of the lake bed. "

Wabi made no objection, and the camp site was chosen. Strangelyenough, with the discovery of the footprints, the fire, the pickedbones and the stones with which the mad hunter had manufactured hisgolden bullets, Mukoki seemed to have lost all fear of the wildcreature of the chasm. He was confident now that he had only a man todeal with, a man who had gone "bad dog, " and his curiosity overcamehis alarm. His assurance served to dispel the apprehension of hiscompanions, and sleep came early to the tired adventurers. Nor didanything occur during the night to awaken them. 

Soon after dawn the trip down the chasm stream was resumed. With theabrupt turning of the channel to the north, however, there was analmost immediate change in the topography of the country. Withinan hour the precipitous walls of the mountains gave place toverdure-covered slopes, and now and then the gold seekers foundthemselves between plains that swept back for a mile or more on eitherside. Frequent signs of game were observed along the shores of theriver and several times during the morning moose and caribou wereseen in the distance. A few months before, when they had invaded thewilderness to hunt and trap, this country would have aroused thewildest enthusiasm among Rod and his friends, but now they gave butlittle thought to their rifles. That morning they had set out with theintention of reaching the second waterfall before dusk, and it waswith disappointment rather than gladness that they saw the swiftcurrent of the chasm torrent change into the slower, steadier sweep ofa stream that had now widened into a fair-sized river. Accordingto the map the second fall was about fifty-five miles from the madhunter's camp. Darkness found them still fifteen miles from where itshould be. 

Excitement kept Rod awake most of that night. Try as he would, hecould not keep visions of the lost treasure out of his mind. The nextday they would be far on their way to the third and last waterfall. And then--the gold! That they might not find it, that the passing ofhalf a century or more might have obliterated all traces left by itsancient discoverers, never for a moment disturbed his belief. 

He was the first awake the following morning, the first to take hisplace in the canoe. Every minute now his ears were keenly attuned forthat distant sound of falling water. But hours passed without asign of it. Noon came. They had traveled six hours and had coveredtwenty-five miles instead of fifteen! Where was the waterfall?

There was a little more of anxiety in Wabigoon's eyes when theyresumed their journey after dinner. Again and again Rod looked at hismap, figuring out the distances as drawn by John Ball, the murderedEnglishman. Surely the second waterfall could not be far away now! Andstill hour after hour passed, and mile after mile slipped behind them, until the three knew that they had gone fully thirty miles beyondwhere the cataract should have been, if the map was right. Twilightwas falling when they stopped for supper. For the last hour Mukokihad spoken no word. A feeling of gloom was on them all; withoutquestioning, each knew what the fears of the others were. 

Was it possible that, after all, they had not solved the secret of themysterious map?

The more Rod thought of it the more his fears possessed him. Thetwo men who fought and died in the old cabin were on their way tocivilization. They were taking gold with them, gold which they meantto exchange for supplies. Would they, at the same time, dare to havein their possession a map so closely defining their trail as the rudesketch on the bit of birch bark? Was there not some strange key, knownonly to themselves, necessary to the understanding of that sketch?

Mukoki had taken his rifle and disappeared in the plain along theriver, and for a long time after they had eaten their bear steak anddrank their hot coffee Rod and Wabigoon sat talking in the glow ofthe camp-fire. The old warrior had been gone for about an hour whensuddenly there came the report of a gun from far down the stream, which was quickly followed by two others--three in rapid succession. After an interval of a few seconds there sounded two other shots. 

"The signal!" cried Rod. "Mukoki wants us!"

Wabigoon sprang to his feet and emptied the five shots of his magazineinto the air. 

"Listen!"

Hardly had the echoes died away when there came again the reports ofMukoki's rifle. 

Without another word the two boys hurried to the canoe, which had notbeen unloaded. 

"He's a couple of miles down-stream, " said Wabi, as they shoved off. "I wonder what's the matter?"

"I can make a pretty good guess, " replied Rod, his voice tremblingwith a new excitement. "He has found the second waterfall!"

The thought gave fresh strength to their aching arms and the canoesped swiftly down the stream. Fifteen minutes later another shotsignaled to them, this time not more than a quarter of a mile away, and Wabi responded to it with a loud shout. Mukoki's voice floatedback in an answering halloo, but before the young hunters came withinsight of their comrade another sound reached their ears, --the muffledroar of a cataract! Again and again the boys sent their shouts of joyechoing through the night, and above the tumult of their own voicesthey heard the old warrior calling on them to put into shore. Mukokiwas waiting for them when they landed. 

"This is big un!" he greeted. "Mak' much noise, much swift water!"

"Hurrah!" yelled Rod for the twentieth time, jumping up and down inhis excitement. 

"Hurrah!" cried Wabi. 

And Mukoki chuckled, and grinned, and rubbed his leathery handstogether in high glee. 

At last, when they had somewhat cooled down, Wabi said:

"That John Ball was a pretty poor fellow at a guess, eh? What do yousay, Rod?"

"Or else pretty clever, " added Rod. "By George, I wonder if he had areason for making his scale fifty miles or so out of the way?"

Wabi looked at him, only partly understanding. 

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that our third waterfall is more than likely to be mightyclose to this one! And if it is--well, John Ball had a reason, and agood one! If we strike the last fall to-morrow it will be prettygood proof that he drew the map in a way intended to puzzlesomebody, --perhaps his two partners, who were just about to start forcivilization. "

"Muky, how far have we come?" asked Wabigoon. 

"T'ree time first fall, " replied the old Indian quickly. 

"A hundred and fifty miles--in three days and one night. I don'tbelieve that is far out of the way. Then, according to the map, weshould still be a hundred miles from the third fall. "

"And we're not more than twenty-five!" declared Rod confidently. "Let's build a fire and go to bed. We'll have enough to doto-morrow--hunting gold!" The fourth day's journey was begun before itwas yet light. Breakfast was eaten in the glow of the camp-fire, andby the time dawn broke the adventurers were already an hour upon theirway. Nothing but confidence now, animated them. The mad hunter and hisgolden bullets were entirely forgotten in these last hours of theirexciting quest. Once, far back, Rod had thought with chilling dreadthat this might be the madman's trail, that his golden bullets mightcome from the treasure they were seeking. But he gave no thought tothis possibility now. His own belief that the third and last fall wasnot far distant, in spite of the evidence of the map, gradually gainedpossession of his companions, and the nerves of all three were keyedto the highest tension of expectancy. The preceding night Mukoki hadmade himself a paddle to replace the one he had broken, and not astroke of the three pairs of arms was lost. Early in the morning ayoung moose allowed them to pass within a hundred yards of him. But noshot was fired, for to obtain the meat would have meant an hour's lossof time. 

Two hours after the start the country again began taking on a suddenchange. From east and west the wild mountain ridges closed in, andwith each mile's progress the stream narrowed and grew swifter, untilagain it was running between chasm walls that rose black and silentover the adventurers' heads. Darker and gloomier became the breakbetween the mountains. Far above, a thousand feet or more, denseforests of red pine flung their thick shadows over the edge of thechasm, in places almost completely shutting out the light of day. This was not like the other chasm. It was deeper and darker and moresullen. Under its walls the gloom was almost that of night. Itssolitude was voiceless; not a bird fluttered or chirped amongits rocks; the lowest of whispered words sounded with startlingdistinctness. Once Rod spoke aloud, and his voice rose and beat itselfin the cavernous depths of the walls until it seemed as though he hadshouted. Now they ceased paddling, and Mukoki steered. Noiselessly thecurrent swept them on. In the twilight gloom Rod's face shonewith singular whiteness. Mukoki and Wabigoon crouched like bronzesilhouettes. It was as if some mysterious influence held them in itspower, forbidding speech, holding their eyes in staring expectancystraight ahead, filling them with indefinable sensations that madetheir hearts beat faster and their blood tingle. 

Softly, from far ahead, at last there came a murmur. It was like thefirst gentle whispering of an approaching wind, the soughing of abreath among the pines at the top of the chasm. But a wind among thetrees rises, and then dies away, like a chord struck low and gentlyupon some soft-toned instrument. This whisper that came up the chasmremained. It grew no louder, and sometimes it almost faded away, untilthe straining ears of those who listened could barely detect it; butafter a moment it was there again, as plainly as before. Little bylittle it became more distinct, until there were no longer intervalswhen it died away, and at last Wabigoon turned in the bow and facedhis companions, and though he spoke no word there was the gleam of agreat excitement in his eyes. Rod's heart beat like a drum. He, too, began to understand. That moaning, whispering sound floating upthe chasm was not the wind, but the far-away rumble of the thirdwaterfall!

Mukoki's voice broke the tense silence from behind. 

"That the fall!"

Wabigoon replied in words scarcely louder than a whisper. There was nojoyful shouting now, as there had been at the discovery of the secondfall. Even Mukoki's voice was so low that the others could barelyhear. Something between these chasm walls seemed to demand silencefrom them, and as the rumble of the cataract came more andmore clearly to their ears they held their breath in voicelessanticipation. A few hundred yards ahead of them was the treasure whichmen long since dead had discovered more than half a century before;between the black mountain walls that so silently guarded thattreasure there seemed to lurk the spirit presence of the three men whohad died because of it. Here, somewhere very near, John Ball had beenmurdered, and Rod almost fancied that along the sandy edge of thechasm stream they might stumble on the footprints of the men whoseskeletons they had discovered in the ancient cabin. 

Mukoki uttered no sound as he guided the canoe ashore. Still withoutword, the three picked up their rifles and Wabigoon led the way alongthe edge of the stream. Soon it dashed a swift racing torrent betweenthe rocks, and Rod and his companions knew that they were close uponthe fall. A hundred yards or more and they saw the white mist of itleaping up before their eyes. Wabi began to run, his moccasined feetspringing from stone to stone with the caution of a hunter approachinggame, and Mukoki and Rod came close behind him. 

They paused upon the edge of a great mass of rock with the spray ofthe plunging cataract rising in their faces. Breathless they gazeddown. It was not a large fall. Wabi silently measured it at fortyfeet. But it added just that much more to the depth and the gloom ofthe chasm beyond, into which there seemed no way of descent. The rockwalls rose sheer and black, with clumps of cedar and stunted pinegrowing at their feet. Farther on the space between the mountainsbecame wider, and the river reached out on either side, frothing andbeating itself into white fury in a chaos of slippery water-wornrocks. 

Down there--somewhere--was the golden treasure they had come to seek, unless the map lied! Was it among those rocks, where the water dashedand fumed? Was it hidden in some gloomy cavern of the mountain sides, its trail concealed by the men who discovered it half an age ago?Would they find it, after all--would they find it?

A great gulp of excitement rose in Rod's throat, and he looked atWabigoon. 

The Indian youth had stretched out an arm. His eyes were blazing, hiswhole attitude was one of tense emotion. 

"There's the cabin, " he cried, "the cabin built by John Ball and thetwo Frenchmen! See, over there among those cedars, almost hidden inthat black shadow of the mountain! Great Scott, Muky--Rod--can't yousee? Can't you see?"

CHAPTER XIV

THE PAPER IN THE OLD TIN BOX

Slowly out of that mysterious gloom there grew a shape before Rod'seyes. At first it was only a shadow, then it might have been a rock, and then the gulp in his throat leaped out in a shout when he saw thatWabigoon's sharp eyes had in truth discovered the old cabin of themap. For what else could it be? What else but the wilderness home ofthe adventurers whose skeletons they had found, Peter Plante and HenriLanglois, and John Ball, the man whom these two had murdered?

Rod's joyous voice was like the touch of fire to Wabi's enthusiasm andin a moment the oppressive silence of their journey down the chasm wasbroken by the wild cheers which the young gold seekers sent echoingbetween the mountains. Grimacing and chuckling in his own curious way, Mukoki was already slipping along the edge of the rock, seeking somebreak by which he might reach the lower chasm. They were on the pointof turning to the ascent of the mountain, along which they would haveto go until they found such a break, when the old pathfinder directedthe attention of his companions to the white top of a dead cedar stubprojecting over the edge of the precipice. 

"Go down that, mebby, " he suggested, shrugging his shoulders tosuggest that the experiment might be a dangerous one. 

Rod looked over. The top of the stub was within easy reach, and thewhole tree was entirely free of bark or limbs, a fact which in hispresent excitement did not strike him as especially unusual. Swinginghis rifle strap over his shoulders he reached out, caught the slenderapex of the stub, and before the others could offer a word ofencouragement or warning was sliding down the wall of the rock intothe chasm. Wabi was close behind him, and not waiting for Mukoki'sdescent the two boys hurried toward the cabin. Half-way to it Wabistopped. 

"This isn't fair. We've got to wait for Muky. "

They looked back. Mukoki was not following. The old warrior was uponhis knees at the base of the dead tree, as though he was searching forsomething among the rocks at its foot. Then he rose slowly, and rubbedhis hands along the stub as high as he could reach. When he saw thatRod and Wabi were observing him he quickly came toward them, andWabigoon, who was quick to notice any change in him, was confidentthat he had made a discovery of some kind. 

"What have you found, Muky?"

"No so ver' much. Funny tree, " grunted the Indian. 

"Smooth as a fireman's brass pole, " added Rod, seeing no significancein Mukoki's words. "Listen!"

He stopped so suddenly that Wabigoon bumped into him from behind. 

"Did you hear that?"

"No. "

For a few moments the three huddled close together in watchfulsilence. Mukoki was behind the boys or they would have seen that hisrifle was ready to spring to his shoulder and that his black eyes weresnapping with something not aroused by curiosity alone. The cabin wasnot more than twenty paces away. It was old, so old that Rod wonderedhow it had withstood the heavy storms of the last winter. A growth ofsaplings had found root in its rotting roof and the logs of which itwas built were in the last stage of decay. There was no window, and where the door had once been there had grown a tree a foot indiameter, almost closing the narrow aperture through which themysterious inhabitants had passed years before. A dozen paces, fivepaces from this door, and Mukoki's hand reached out and laid itselfgently upon Wabi's shoulder. Rod saw the movement and stopped. Astrange look had come into the old Indian's face, an expression inwhich there was incredulity and astonishment, as if he believed andyet doubted what his eyes beheld. Mutely he pointed to the treegrowing before the door, and to the reddish, crumbling rot into whichthe logs had been turned by the passing of generations. 

"Red pine, " he said at last. "That cabin more'n' twent' t'ous'nd yearold!"

There was an awesome ring in his voice. Rod understood, and clutchedWabi's arm. In an instant he thought of the other old cabin, in whichthey had found the skeletons. They had repaired that cabin and hadpassed the winter in it, and they knew that it had been built half acentury or more before. But this cabin was beyond repair. To Rod itseemed as though centuries of time instead of decades had been at workon its timbers. Following close after Wabi he thrust his head throughthe door. Deep gloom shut out their vision. But as they looked, steadily inuring their eyes to the darkness within, the walls of theold cabin took form, and they saw that everywhere was vacancy. Therewas no ancient table, as in the other cabin they had discovered at thehead of the first chasm, there were no signs of the life that had onceexisted, not even the remnants of a chair or a stool. The cabin wasbare. 

Foot by foot the two boys went around its walls. Mukoki took but asingle glance inside and disappeared. Once alone he snapped down thesafety of his rifle. Quickly, as if he feared interruption, he hurriedaround the old cabin, his eyes close to the earth. When Rod and Wabireturned to the door he was at the edge of the fall, crouching lowamong the rocks like an animal seeking a trail. Wabi pulled hiscompanion back. 

"Look!"

The old warrior rose, suddenly erect, and turned toward them, but theboys were hidden in the gloom. Then he hurried to the dead stub besidethe chasm wall. Again he reached far up, rubbing his hand along itssurface. 

"I'm going to have a look at that tree!" whispered Wabi. "Something ispuzzling Are you coming?"

He hurried across the rock-strewn opening, but Rod hung back. He couldnot understand his companions. For weeks and months they had plannedto find this third waterfall. Visions of a great treasure had beenconstantly before their eyes, and now that they were here, with thegold perhaps under their very feet, both Mukoki and Wabigoon were moreinterested in a dead stub than in their search for it! His own heartwas almost bursting with excitement. The very air which he breathedin the old cabin set his blood leaping with anticipation. Here thoseearlier adventurers had lived half a century or more ago. In it thelife-blood of the murdered John Ball might have ebbed away. In thiscabin the men whose skeletons he had found had slept, and planned, andmeasured their gold. And the gold! It was that and not the stub thatinterested Roderick Drew! Where was the lost treasure? Surely the oldcabin must hold some clue for them, it would at least tell them morethan the limbless white corpse of a tree!

From the door he looked back into the dank gloom, straining his eyesto see, and then glanced across the opening. Wabi had reached thestub, and both he and Mukoki were on their knees beside it. Probablythey have found the marks of a lynx or a bear, thought Rod. A dozenpaces away something else caught his eyes, a fallen red pine, dry andheavy with pitch, and in less than a minute he had gone to it and wasback with a torch. Breathlessly he touched the tiny flame of a matchto the stick. For a moment the pitch sputtered and hissed, then flaredinto light, and Rod held the burning wood above his head. 

The young gold seeker's first look about him was disappointing. Nothing but the bare walls met his eyes. Then, in the farthest corner, he observed something that in the dancing torch-light was darker thanthe logs themselves, and he moved toward it. It was a tiny shelf, notmore than a foot long, and upon it was a small tin box, black andrust-eaten by the passing of ages. With trembling fingers Rod took itin his hand. It was very light, probably empty. In it he might findthe dust of John Ball's last tobacco. Then, suddenly, as he thought ofthis, he stopped in his search and a muffled exclamation of surprisefell from him. In the glow of the torch he looked at the tin box. Itwas crumbling with age and he might easily have crushed it in hishand--and yet it was still a tin box! If this box had remained whyhad not other things? Where were the pans and kettles, the pail andfrying-pan, knives, cups and other articles which John Ball and thetwo Frenchmen must at one time have possessed in this cabin?

He returned to the door. Mukoki and Wabigoon were still at the deadstub. Even the flare of light in the old cabin had not attracted them. Tossing his torch away Rod tore off the top of the tin box. Somethingfell at his feet, and as he reached for it he saw that it was a littleroll of paper, almost as discolored as the rust-eaten box itself. Asgently as Mukoki had unrolled the precious birchbark map a few monthsbefore he smoothed out the paper. The edges of it broke and crumbledunder his fingers, but the inner side of the roll was still quitewhite. Mukoki and Wabigoon, looking back, saw him suddenly turn towardthem with a shrill cry on his lips, and the next instant he was racingin their direction, shouting wildly at every step. 

"The gold!" he shrieked. "The gold! Hurrah!"

He was almost sobbing in his excitement when he stopped between them, holding out the bit of paper. 

"I found it in the cabin--in a tin box! See, it's John Ball'swriting--the writing that was on the old map! I found it--in a tinbox--"

Wabi seized the paper. His own breath came more quickly when he sawwhat was upon it. There were a few lines of writing, dim but stilllegible, and a number of figures. Across the top of the paper waswritten, "Account of John Ball, Henri Langlois, and Peter Plante for monthending June thirtieth, 1859. "

Below these lines was the following:

"Plante's work: nuggets, 7 pounds, nine ounces; dust, 1 pound, 3ounces. Langlois' work: nuggets, 9 pounds, 13 ounces; dust, none. Ball's work: nuggets, 6 pounds, 4 ounces; dust, 2 pounds, 3 ounces. Total, 27 pounds. Plante's share, 6 pounds, 12 ounces. Langlois' share, 6 pounds, 12 ounces. Ball's share, 13 pounds, 8 ounces. Division made. "

Softly Wabigoon read the words aloud. When he finished his eyes metRod's, Mukoki was still crouching at the foot of the stub, staring atthe two boys in silence, as if stupefied by what he had just heard. 

"This doesn't leave a doubt, " said Wabi at last. "We've struck theright place!"

"The gold is somewhere--very near--"

Rod could not master the tremble in his voice. As though hoping to seethe yellow treasure heaped in a pile before his eyes he turned to thewaterfall, to the gloomy walls of the chasm, and finally extended anarm to where the spring torrent, leaping over the edge of the chasmabove, beat itself into frothing rage among the rocks between the twomountains. 

"It's there!"

"In the stream?"

"Yes. Where else near this cabin would they have found pure nuggetsof gold? Surely not in rock! And gold-dust is always in the sands ofstreams. It's there--without a doubt!"

Both Indians went with him to the edge of the water. 

"The creek widens here until it is very shallow, " said Wabi. "I don'tbelieve that it is more than four feet deep out there in the middle. What do you say--" He paused as he saw Mukoki slip back to the deadstub again, then went on, "What do you say to making a trip to thecanoe after grub for our dinner, and the pans?"

The first flash of enthusiasm that had filled Wabigoon on reading thepaper discovered by Rod was quickly passing away, and the white youthcould not but notice the change which came over both Mukoki and hisyoung friend when they stood once more beside the smooth white stubthat reached up to the floor of the chasm above. He controlled hisown enthusiasm enough to inspect more closely the dead tree which hadaffected them so strangely. The discovery he made fairly startled him. The surface of the stub was not only smooth and free of limbs, but waspolished until it shone with the reflecting luster of a waxed pillar!For a moment he forgot the paper which he held in his hand, forgotthe old cabin, and the nearness of gold. In blank wonder he stared atMukoki, and the old Indian shrugged his shoulders. 

"Ver' nice an' smooth!"

"Ver' dam' smooth!" emphasized Wabi, without a suggestion of humor inhis voice. 

"What does it mean?" asked Rod. 

"It means, " continued Wabigoon, "that this old stub has for a goodmany years been used! by something as a sort of stairway in and out ofthis chasm! Now if it were a bear, there would be claw marks. If itwere a lynx, the surface of the stub would be cut into shreds. Anykind of animal would have left his mark behind, and no animal wouldhave put this polish on it!"

"Then what in the world--"

Rod did not finish. Mukoki lifted his shoulders to a level with hischin, and Wabi whistled as he looked straight at him. 

"Not a hard guess, eh?"

"You mean--"

"That it's a man! Only the arms and legs of a man going up and downthat stub hundreds and thousands of times could have worn it sosmooth! Now, can you guess who that man is?"

In a flash the answer shot into Rod's brain. He understood now whythis old stub had drawn his companions away from their search forgold, and he felt the flush of excitement go out of his own cheeks, and an involuntary thrill pass up his back. 

"The mad hunter!"

Wabi nodded. Mukoki grunted and rubbed his hands. 

"Gold in bullet come from here!" said the old pathfinder. "Bad dog manver' swift on trail. We hurry get canoe--cut down tree!"

"That's more than you've said in the last half-hour, and it's a goodidea!" exclaimed Wabi. "Let's get our stuff down here and chop thisstub into firewood! When he comes back and finds his ladder gone he'llgive a screech or two, I'll wager, and then it will be our chance todo something with him. Here goes!"

He started to climb the stub, and a minute or two later stood safelyon the rock above. 

"Slippery as a greased pole!" he called down. "Bet you can't make it, Rod!"

But Rod did, after a tremendous effort that left him breathless andgasping by the time Wabi stretched out a helping hand to him. Mukokicame up more easily. Taking only their revolvers with them thethree hurried to the birch bark, and in a single load brought theirpossessions to the rock. By means of ropes the packs and othercontents of the canoe, and finally the canoe itself, were lowered intothe chasm, and while the others looked on Mukoki seized the ax andchopped down the stub. 

"There!" he grunted, as a last blow sent the tree crashing among therocks. "Too high for heem jump!"

"But a mighty good place for him to shoot from, " said Wabi, lookingup. "We'd better camp out of range. "

"Not until we know what we've struck, " cried Rod, unstrapping a panfrom one of the packs. "Boys, the first thing to do is to wash out alittle of that river-bed!"

He started for the creek, with Wabi close behind him bearing a secondpan. Mukoki looked after them and chuckled softly to himself as hebegan making preparations for dinner. Choosing a point where thecurrent had swept up a small bar of pebbles and sand Wabi and Rod bothset to work. The white youth had never before panned gold, but hehad been told how it was done, and there now shot through him thatstrange, thrilling excitement which enthralls the treasure hunterwhen he believes that at last he has struck pay dirt. Scooping up aquantity of the gravel and sand he filled his pan with water, thenmoved it, quickly back and forth, every few moments splashing some ofthe "wash" or muddy water, over the side. Thus, filling and refillinghis pan with fresh water, he excitedly went through the process of"washing" everything but solid substance out of it. 

With each fresh dip into the stream the water in the pan becameclearer, and within fifteen minutes the three or four double handfulsof sand and gravel with which he began work dwindled down to one. Scarcely breathing in his eagerness he watched for the yellow gleam ofgold. Once a glitter among the pebbles drew a low cry from him, butwhen with the point of his knife he found it to be only mica he wasglad that Wabi had not heard him. The young Indian was squatting uponthe sand, with his pan turned toward a gleam of the sun that shotfaintly down into the chasm. Without raising his head he called toRod. 

"Found anything?"

"No. Have you?"

"No--yes--but I don't think it's gold"

"What does it look like?"

"It gleams yellow but is as hard as steel. "

"Mica!" said Rod. 

Neither of the boys looked up during the conversation. With the pointof his hunting-knife Rod still searched in the bottom of his pan, turning over the pebbles and raking the gravelly sand with apainstaking care that would have made a veteran gold seeker laugh. Some minutes had passed when Wabi spoke again. 

"I say, Rod, that's a funny-looking thing I found! If it wasn't sohard I'd swear it was gold? Want to see it?"

"It's mica, " repeated Rod, as another gleam, of "fool's gold" in hisown pan caught his eyes. "The stream is full of it!"

"Never saw mica in chunks before, " mumbled Wabi, bending low over hispan. 

"Chunks!" cried Rod, straightening as if some one had run a pin intohis back. "How big is it?"

"Big as a pea--a big pea!"

The words were no sooner out of the young Indian's mouth than Roderickwas upon his feet and running to his companion. 

"Mica doesn't come in chunks! Where--"

He bent over Wabi's pan. In the very middle of it lay a suspiciouslyyellow pebble, worn round and smooth by the water, and when Rod tookit in his fingers he gave a low whistle of mock astonishment as hegazed down into Wabigoon's face. 

"Wabi, I'm ashamed of you!" he said, trying hard to choke back thequiver in his voice. "Mica doesn't come in round chunks like this. Mica isn't heavy. And this is _both_!"

From the cedars beyond the old cabin came Mukoki's whooping signalthat dinner was ready. 

CHAPTER XV

THE TREASURE IN THE POOL

For a few moments after Rod's words and Mukoki's signal from thecedars Wabigoon sat as if stunned. 

"It isn't--gold, " he said, his voice filled with questioning doubt. 

"That's just what it is!" declared Rod, his words now rising in theexcitement which he was vainly striving to suppress. "It's hard, butsee how your knife point has scratched it! It weighs a quarter of anounce! Are there any more nuggets in there?"

He fell upon his knees beside Wabi, and their two heads were closetogether, their four eyes eagerly searching the contents of the pan, when Mukoki came up behind them. Rod passed the golden nugget to theold Indian, and rose to his feet. 

"That settles it, boys. We've hit the right spot. Let's give threecheers for John Ball and the old map, and go to dinner!"

"I agree to dinner, but cut out the cheers. " said Wabi, "or else let'sgive them under our breath. Notice how hollow our voices sound in thischasm! I believe we could hear a shout half a dozen miles away!"

For their camp Mukoki had chosen a site in the edge of the cedars, and had spread dinner on a big flat rock about which the three nowgathered. For inspiration, as Wabi said, the young Indian placedthe yellow nugget in the center of the improvised table, and if theenthusiasm with which they hurried through their meal counted foranything there was great merit in the golden centerpiece. Mukokijoined the young gold seekers when they again returned to the chasmstream, and the quest of the yellow treasure was vigorously renewed intrembling and feverish expectancy. 

Only those who have lived in this quest and who have pursued thatelusive _ignis fatuus_ of all nations--the lure of gold--can realizethe sensations which stir the blood and heat the brain of the treasureseeker as he dips his pan into the sands of the stream where hebelieves nature has hidden her wealth. As Roderick Drew, a child ofthat civilization where the dollar is law as well as might, returnedto the exciting work which promised him a fortune he seemed to be ina half dream. About him, everywhere, was gold! For no moment did hedoubt it; not for an instant did he fear that there might be no moregold in the sand and gravel from which Wabigoon's nugget had come. Treasure was in the very sandbar under his feet! It was out thereamong the rocks, where the water beat itself angrily into sputteringfroth; it was under the fall, and down in the chasm, everywhere, everywhere about him. In one month John Ball and his companions hadgathered twenty-seven pounds of it, a fortune of nearly seven thousanddollars! And they had gathered it here! Eagerly he scooped up a freshpan of the precious earth. He heard the swish-swish of the water inWabigoon's and Mukoki's pans. But beyond this there were no soundsmade by them. 

In these first minutes of treasure seeking no words were spoken. Whowould give the first shout of discovery? Five minutes, ten, fifteen ofthem passed, and Rod found no gold. As he emptied his pan he saw Wabiscooping up fresh dirt. He, too, had failed. Mukoki had waded outwaist deep among the rocks. A second and a third pan, and a littlechill of disappointment cooled Rod's blood. Perhaps he had chosen anunlucky spot, where the gold had not settled! He moved his position, and noticed that Wabigoon had done the same. A fourth and a fifth panand the result was the same. Mukoki had waded across the stream, whichwas shallow below the fall, and was working on the opposite side. Asixth pan, and Rod approached the young Indian. The excitement wasgone out of their faces. An hour and a half--and no more gold!

"Guess we haven't hit the right place, after all, " said Wabi. 

"It must be here, " replied Rod. "Where there is one nugget there mustbe more. Gold is heavy, and settles. Perhaps it's deeper down in theriver bed. "

Mukoki came across to join them. Out among the rocks he had found afleck of gold no larger than the head of a pin, and this new sign gavethem all fresh enthusiasm. Taking off their boots both Rod and Wabijoined the old pathfinder in midstream. But each succeeding pan addedto the depressing conviction that was slowly replacing their hopes. The shadows in the chasm began growing longer and deeper. Far overheadthe dense canopies of red pine shut out the last sun-glow of day, andthe gathering gloom between the mountains gave warning that in thismysterious world of the ancient cabin the dusk of night was not faraway. But not until they could no longer see the gleaming mica intheir pans did the three cease work. Wet to the waist, tired, and withsadly-shattered dreams they returned to their camp. For a short timeRod's hopes were at their lowest ebb. Was it possible that there wasno more gold, that the three adventurers of long ago had discovered a"pocket" here, and worked it out? The thought had been growing in hishead. Now it worried him. 

But his depression did not last long. The big fire which Mukokibuilt and the stimulating aroma of strong coffee revived his naturalspirits, and both Wabi and he were soon laughing and planning again asthey made their cedar-bough shelter. Supper on the big flat stone--afeast of bear steak, hot-stone biscuits, coffee, and that mostdelectable of all wilderness luxuries, a potato apiece, --and the twoirrepressible young gold hunters were once more scheming and buildingtheir air-castles for the following day. Mukoki listened, and attendedto the clothes drying before the fire, now and then walking out intothe gloom of the chasm to look up to where the white rim of the fallburst over the edge of the great rock above them. All that afternoonWabi and Rod had forgotten the mad hunter and the strange, smoothlyworn tree. Mukoki had not. 

In the glow of the camp-fire the two boys read over again the oldaccount of John Ball and the two Frenchmen. The tiny slip of paper, yellow with age, was the connecting link between them and the dimand romantic past, a relic of the grim tragedy which these black andgloomy chasm walls would probably keep for ever a secret. 

"Twenty-seven pounds, " repeated Rod, as if half to himself. "That wasone month's work!"

"Pretty nearly a pound a day!" gasped Wabi. "I tell you, Rod, wehaven't hit the right spot--yet!"

"I wonder why John Ball's share was twice that of his companions'? Doyou suppose it was because he discovered the gold in the first place?"speculated Rod. 

"In all probability it was. That accounts for his murder. TheFrenchmen were getting the small end of the deal. "

"Eighteen hundred fifty-nine, " mused Rod. "That was forty-nine yearsago, before the great Civil War. Say--"

He stopped and looked hard at Wabigoon. 

"Did it ever strike you that John Ball might not have been murdered?"

Wabi leaned forward with more than usual eagerness. 

"I have had a thought--" he began. 

"What?"

"That perhaps he was not killed. "

"And that after the two Frenchmen died in the knife duel he returnedand got the gold, " continued Rod. 

"No, I had not thought of that, " said Wabi. Suddenly he rose to hisfeet and joined Mukoki out in the gloom of the chasm. 

Rod was puzzled. Something in his companion's voice, in his face andwords, disturbed him. What had Wabigoon meant?

The young Indian soon rejoined him, but he spoke no more of John Ball. 

When the two boys went to their blankets Mukoki still remained awake. For a long time he sat beside the fire, his hands gripping the rifleacross his knees, his head slightly bowed in that statue-like postureso characteristic of the Indian. For fully an hour he sat motionless, and in his own way he was deeply absorbed in thought. Soon after theirdiscovery of the first golden bullet Wabigoon had whispered a fewwords into his ear, unknown to Rod; and to-night out in the gloom ofthe chasm, he had repeated those same words. They had set Mukoki'smind working. He was thinking now of something that happened long ago, when, in his reasoning, the wilderness was young and he was a youth. In those days his one great treasure was a dog, and one winter hewent with this faithful companion far into the hunting regions of theNorth, a long moon's travel from his village. When he returned, months later, he was alone. From his lonely hunting shack deep in thesolitudes his comrade had disappeared, and had never returned. Thisall happened before Mukoki met the pretty Indian girl who became hiswife, and was afterward killed by the wolves, and he missed the dogas he would have missed a human brother. The Indian's love, evenfor brutes, is some thing that lives, and more than twenty moonslater--two years in the life of a man--he returned once again to theold shack, and there he found Wholdaia, the dog! The animal knew him, and bounded about on three legs for joy, and because of the missingleg Mukoki understood why he had not returned to him two years before. Two years is a long time in the life of a dog, and the gray hairs ofsuffering and age were freely sprinkled in Wholdaia's muzzle and alonghis spine. 

Mukoki was not thinking of Wholdaia without a reason. He was thinkingof Wabigoon's words--and the mad hunter. Could not the mad hunter doas Wholdaia had done? Was it possible that the bad-dog man who shotgolden bullets and who screamed like a lynx was the man who had livedthere many, many years ago, and whom the boys called John Ball? Thosewere the thoughts that Wabi had set working in his brain. The youngIndian had not suggested this to Rod. He had spoken of it to Mukokionly because he knew the old pathfinder might help him to solve theriddle, and so he had started Mukoki upon the trail. 

The next morning, while the others were finishing their breakfast, Mukoki equipped himself for a journey. 

"Go down chasm, " he explained to Rod "Fin' where get out to plain. Shoot meat. "

That day the gold hunters were more systematic in their work, beginning close to the fall, one on each side of the stream, andpanning their way slowly down the chasm. By noon they had covered twohundred yards, and their only reward was a tiny bit of gold, worthno more than a dollar, which Rod had found in his pan. By the timedarkness again compelled them to stop they had prospected a quarterof a mile down stream without discovering other signs of John Ball'streasure. In spite of their failure they were less discouraged thanthe previous evening, for this failure, in a way, was having asedative and healthful effect. It convinced them that there was a hardand perhaps long task ahead of them, and that they could not expect tofind their treasure winnowed in yellow piles for them. 

Early in the evening Mukoki returned laden with caribou meat, and withthe news that the first break in the chasm walls was fully five milesbelow. The adventurers now regretted that they had chopped down thestub, for it was decided that the next work should be in the streamabove the fall, which would necessitate a ten-mile tramp, five milesto the break and five miles back. When the journey was begun at dawnthe following morning several days' supplies were taken along, andalso a stout rope by means of which the gold hunters could lowerthemselves back into their old camp when their work above wascompleted. Rod noticed that the rocks in the stream seemed muchlarger than when he had first seen them, and he mentioned the fact toWabigoon. 

"The floods are going down rapidly, " explained the young Indian. "Allof the snow is melted from the sides of the mountains, and there areno lakes to feed this chasm stream. Within a week there won't be morethan a few inches of water below the fall. "

"And that is when we shall find the gold!" declared Rod with his oldenthusiasm. "I tell you, we haven't gone deep enough! This gold hasbeen here for centuries and centuries, and it has probably settledseveral feet below the surface of the river-bed. Ball and theFrenchmen found twenty-seven pounds in June, when the creek waspractically dry. Did you ever read about the discoveries of gold inAlaska and the Yukon?"

"A little, when I was going to school with you. "

"Well, the richest finds were nearly always from three to a dozenfeet under the surface, and when a prospector found signs in surfacepanning he knew there was rich dirt below. Well find our gold in thischasm, and near the fall!"

Rod's confidence was the chief thing that kept up the spirits of thetreasure seekers during the next few days, for not the first signof gold was discovered above the fall. Yard by yard the prospectorsworked up the chasm until they had washed its sands for more than amile. And with the passing of each day, as Wabigoon had predicted, thestream became more and more shallow, until they could wade across itwithout wetting themselves above their knees. At the close of thefourth day the three lowered themselves over the face of the rock intothe second chasm. So convinced was Rod in his belief that the gold washidden deep down under the creek bed that he dug a four-foot hole bytorch-light and that night after supper washed out several pans ofdirt in the glow of the camp-fire. He still found no signs of gold. 

The next day's exertions left no room for doubt. Beyond two or threetiny flecks of gold the three adventurers found nothing of valuein the deeper sand and gravel of the stream. That night absolutedejection settled on the camp. Both Rod and Wabigoon made vain effortsto liven up their drooping spirits. Only Mukoki, to whom goldcarried but a fleeting and elusive value, was himself, and even hishopefulness was dampened by the gloom of his companions. Rod could seebut one explanation of their failure. Somewhere near the cataract JohnBall and the Frenchmen had found a rich pocket of gold, and they hadworked it out, probably before the fatal tragedy in the old cabin. 

"But how about the mad hunter and his golden bullets?" insisted Wabi, in another effort to brighten their prospects. "The bullets weighed anounce each, and I'll stake my life they came from this chasm. He knowswhere the gold is, if we don't!"

"Come back soon!" grunted Mukoki. "Watch heem. Fin' gol'!"

"That's what we'll do!" cried the young Indian, jumping suddenly tohis feet and toppling Rod backward off the rock upon which he wassitting. "Come, cheer up, Rod! The gold is here, somewhere, and we'regoing to find it! I'm heartily ashamed of you; you, whom I thoughtwould never get discouraged!"

Rod was laughing when he recovered from the playful mauling which Wabiadministered before he could regain his feet. 

"That's right, I deserve another licking! We've got all the spring andsummer before us, and if we don't find the gold by the time snow flieswe'll come back and try it again next year! What do you say?"

"And bring Minnetaki with us!" added Wabi, jumping into the air andkicking his heels together. "How will you like that, Rod?" He nudgedhis comrade in the ribs, and in another moment both were puffing andlaughing in one of their good-natured wrestling bouts, in which thecat-like agility of the young Indian always won for him in the end. 

In spite of momentary times like this, when the natural buoyancy andenthusiasm of the young adventurers rose above their discouragement, the week that followed added to their general depression. For milesthe chasm was explored and at the end of the week they had found lessthan an ounce of gold. If their pans had given them no returns at alltheir disappointment would have been less, for then, as Wabi said, they could have given up the ghost with good grace. But the fewprecious yellow grains which they found now and then lured them on, asthese same grains have lured other hundreds and thousands since thedawn of civilization. Day after day they persisted in their efforts;night after night about their camp-fire they inspired each other withnew hope and made new plans. The spring sun grew stronger, the poplarbuds burst into tiny leaf and out beyond the walls of the chasm thefirst promises of summer came in the sweetly scented winds of thesouth, redolent with the breath of balsam and pine and the thousandgrowing things of the plains. 

But at last the search came to an end. For three days not even a grainof gold had been found. Around the big rock, where they were eatingdinner, Rod and his friends came to a final conclusion. The followingmorning they would break camp, and leaving their canoe behind, for thecreek was now too shallow for even birch-bark navigation, they wouldcontinue their exploration of the chasm in search of other adventures. The whole summer was ahead of them, and though they had failedin discovering a treasure where John Ball and the Frenchmen hadsucceeded, they might find one farther on. At least the trip deeperinto the unexplored wilderness would be filled with excitement. 

Mukoki rose to his feet, leaving Rod and Wabi still discussing theirplans. Suddenly he turned toward them, and a startled cry fell fromhis lips, while with one long arm he pointed beyond the fall into theupper chasm. 

"Listen--heem--heem!"

The old warrior's face twitched with excitement, and for a full halfminute he stood motionless, his arm still extended, his black eyesstaring steadily at Rod and Wabigoon who sat as silent as the rocksabout them. Then there came to them from a great distance a quavering, thrilling sound, a sound that filled them again with the old horror ofthe upper chasm--the cry of the mad hunter. 

At that distant cry Wabigoon sprang to his feet, his eyes leapingfire, his bronzed cheeks whitening in an excitement even greater thanthat of Mukoki. 

"Muky, I told you!" he cried. "I told you!" The young Indian's bodyquivered, his hands were clenched, and when he turned upon Rod thewhite youth was startled by the look in his face. 

"Rod, John Ball is coming back to his gold!"

Hardly had he spoken the words when the tenseness left his body andhis hands dropped to his side. 

The words shot from him before he could control himself enough to holdthem back. In another moment he was sorry. The thought that John Balland the mad hunter were the same person he had kept to himself, untilfor reasons of his own he had let Mukoki into his secret. While theidea had taken larger and larger growth in his mind he knew thatfrom every logical point of view the thing was impossible, and thatconstraint which came of the Indian blood in him held him fromdiscussing it with Rod. But now the words were out. A quick flushreplaced the whiteness that had come into his face. In another instanthe was leaning eagerly toward Rod, his eyes kindling into fire again. He had not expected the change that he now saw come over the whiteyouth. 

"I have been thinking that for a long time, " he continued. "Ever sincewe found the footprints in the sand. There's just one proof that weneed, just one, and--"

"Listen!"

Rod fairly hissed the word as he held up a warning hand. 

This time the cry of the mad hunter came to them more distinctly. Hewas approaching through the upper chasm!

The white youth rose to his feet, his eyes steadily fixed uponWabigoon's. His face was deathly pale. 

"John Ball!" he repeated, as if he had just heard what the other hadsaid. "John Ball!" What seemed to him to be the only truth swept uponhim like a flood, and for a score of seconds, in every one of which hecould hear his heart thumping excitedly, he stood like one stunned. John Ball! John Ball returned to life to find their gold for them, totell them of the tragedy and mystery of those days long dead and gone!Like powder touched by a spark of fire his imagination leaped atWabi's thrilling suggestion. 

Mukoki set to work. 

"Hide!" he exclaimed. "Hide thees--thees--thees!" He pointed about himat all the things in camp. 

Both of the boys understood. 

"He must see no signs of our presence from the top of the fall!" criedWabi, gathering an armful of camp utensils. "Hide them back among thecedars!"

Mukoki hurried to the cedar bough shelter and began tearing it down. For five minutes the adventurers worked on the run. Once during thattime they heard the madman's wailing cry, and hardly had they finishedand concealed themselves in the gloom of the old cabin when it cameagain, this time from not more than a rifle-shot's distance beyondthe cataract. It was not a scream that now fell from the mad hunter'slips, but a low wail and in it there was something that drove the oldhorror from the three wildly beating hearts and filled them with ameasureless, nameless pity. What change had come over the madman? Thecry was repeated every few seconds now, each time nearer than before, and in it there was a questioning, appealing note that seemed to endin sobbing despair, a something that gripped at Rod's heart and filledhim with a great half-mastering impulse to answer it, to run out andstretch his hands forth in greeting to the strange, wild creaturecoming down the chasm!

Then, as he looked, something ran out upon the edge of the great rockbeside the cataract, and he clutched at his own breast to hold backwhat he thought must burst forth in words. For he knew--as surely ashe knew that Wabi was at his side--that he was looking upon John Ball!For a moment the strange creature crouched where the stub had been, and when he saw that it was gone he stood erect, and a quavering, pitiful cry echoed softly through the chasm. And as he stood theremotionless the watchers saw that the mad hunter was an old man, talland thin, but as straight as a sapling, and that his head and breastwere hidden in shaggy beard and hair. In his hands he carried agun--the gun that had fired the golden bullets--and even at thatdistance those who were peering from the gloom of the cabin saw thatit was a long barreled weapon similar to those they had found in theother old cabin, along with the skeletons of the Frenchmen who haddied in the fatal knife duel. 

In breathless suspense the three waited, not a muscle of their bodiesmoving. Again the old man leaned over the edge of the rock, and hisvoice came to them in a moaning, sobbing appeal, and after a littlehe stretched out his arms, still crying softly, as if beseeching helpfrom some one below. The spectacle gripped at Rod's soul. A hot filmcame into his eyes and there was an odd little tremble in his throat. The Indians were looking with dark, staring eyes. To them this wasanother unusual incident of the wilderness. But to Rod it was thewhite man's soul crying out to his own. The old man's outstretchedarms seemed reaching to him, the sobbing voice, filled with itspathos, its despair, its hopeless loneliness, seemed a supplicationfor him to come forth, to reach up his own arms, to respond to thislost soul of the solitudes. With a little cry Rod darted between hiscompanions. He threw off his cap and lifted his white face to thestartled creature on the rock, and as he advanced step by step, reaching out his hands in friendship, he called softly a name:

"John Ball, John Ball, John Ball!"

In an instant the mad hunter had straightened himself, half turned toflee. 

"John Ball! Hello, John Ball--John Ball--"

In his earnestness Rod was almost sobbing the name. He forgoteverything now, everything but that lonely figure on the rock, and hedrew nearer and nearer, gently calling the name, until the mad hunterdropped on his knees and, crumpled in his long beard and gray lynxskin, looked down upon Rod and sent back a low moaning, answering cry. 

"John Ball! John Ball, is that you?"

Rod stopped, with the madman forty feet above him, and somethingseemed choking back the very breath in him when he saw the strangelook that had come into the old man's eyes. 

"John Ball--"

The wild eyes above shifted for a moment. They caught a glimpse of twoheads thrust from the door of the old cabin, and the madman sprang tohis feet. For a breath he stood on the edge of the rock, then with acry he leaped with the fierce agility of an animal far out into theswirl of the cataract! For an instant he was visible in the downwardplunge of the water. Another instant and with a heavy splash hedisappeared in the deep pool under the fall!

Wabi and Mukoki had seen the desperate leap and the young Indianwas beside the pool before Rod had recovered from his horrifiedastonishment. For centuries the water of the chasm stream had beentumbling into this pool wearing it deeper and deeper each year, untilthe water in it was over a man's head. In width it was not more than adozen feet. 

"Watch for him! He'll drown if we don't get him out, " shouted Wabi. 

Rod leaped to the edge of the pool, with Mukoki between him andWabigoon. Ready to spring into the cold depths at the first sign ofthe old man's gray head or struggling arms the three stood with everymuscle ready for action. A second, two seconds, five seconds passed, and there was no sign of him. Rod's heart began to beat with drum-likefierceness. Ten seconds! A quarter of a minute! He looked at Wabigoon. The young Indian had thrown off his caribou-skin coat; his eyes, as heturned them for a moment toward Rod, flashed back the white youth'sfear. 

"I'm going to dive for him!"

In another instant he had plunged head foremost into the pool. Mukoki's coat fell to the ground. He crouched forward until it seemedhe must topple from the stone upon which he stood. Another fifteenseconds and Wabigoon's head appeared above the water, and the oldwarrior gave a shout. 

"Me come!"

He shot out and disappeared in a huge splash close to Wabi. Rod stoodtransfixed, filled with a fear that was growing in him at every breathhe drew. He saw the convulsions of the water made by the two Indians, who were groping about below the surface. Wabigoon came up again forbreath, then Mukoki. It seemed to him that an age had passed, and hefelt no hope. John Ball was dead!

Not for a moment now did he doubt the identity of the mad hunter. Thestrange, wistful light that had replaced the glare in the old man'seyes when he heard his own name called to him had spoken more thanwords. It was John Ball! And he was dead! For a third time, a fourth, and a fifth Mukoki and Wabigoon came up for air, and the fifth timethey dragged themselves out upon the rocks that edged the pool. Mukokispoke no word but ran back to the camp and threw a great armful of dryfuel upon the fire. Wabigoon still remained at the edge of the pool, dripping and shivering. His hands were clenched, and Rod could seethat they were filled with sand and gravel. Mechanically the Indianopened his fingers and looked at what he had unconsciously brought upfrom under the fall. 

For a moment he stared, then with his gasping breath there came a low, thrilling cry. 

He held out his hands to Rod. 

Gleaming richly among the pebbles which he held was a nugget of puregold, a nugget so large that Rod gave a wild yell, and in that onemoment forgot that John Ball, the mad hunter, was dead or dyingbeneath the fall!

CHAPTER XVI

JOHN BALL AND THE MYSTERY OF THE GOLD

Mukoki, hearing Rod's cry, hurried to the pool, but before he reachedthe spot where the white youth was standing with the yellow nugget inhis hand Wabigoon had again plunged beneath the surface. For severalminutes he remained in the water, and when he once more crawled outupon the rocks there was something so strange in his face and eyesthat for a moment Rod believed he had found the dead body of themadman. 

"He isn't--in--the--pool!" he panted. Mukoki shrugged his shouldersand shivered. 

"Dead!" he grunted

"He isn't in the pool!"

Wabigoon's black eyes gleamed in uncanny emphasis of his words. 

"He isn't in the pool!"

The others understood what he meant. Mukoki's eyes wandered to wherethe water of the pool gushed between the rocks into the broaderchannel of the chasm stream. It was not more than knee deep!

"He no go out there!"

"No!"

"Then--where?"

He shrugged his shoulders suggestively again, and pointed into thepool. 

"Body slip under rock. He there!"

"Try it!" said Wabigoon tersely. 

He hurried to the fire, and Rod went with him to gather more fuelwhile the young Indian warmed his chilled body. They heard the oldpathfinder leap into the water under the fall as they ran. 

Ten minutes later Mukoki joined them. 

"Gone! Bad-dog man no there!"

He stretched out one of his dripping arms. 

"Gol' bullet!" he grunted. 

In the palm of his hand lay another yellow nugget, as large as ahazelnut!

"I told you, " said Wabi softly, "that John Ball was coming back to hisgold. And he has done so! The treasure is in the pool!"

But where was John Ball?

Dead or alive, where could he have disappeared?

Under other conditions the chasm would have rung with the wildrejoicing of the gold seekers. But there was something now thatstilled the enthusiasm in them. At last the ancient map had given upits secret, and riches were within their grasp. But no one of thethree shouted out his triumph. Somehow it seemed that John Ball haddied for them, and the thought clutched at their hearts that if theyhad not cut down the stub he would still be alive. Indirectly they hadbrought about the death of the poor creature who for nearly half acentury had lived alone with the beasts in these solitudes. And thatone glimpse of the old man on the rock, the prayerful entreaty in hiswailing voice, the despair which he sobbed forth when he found histree gone, had livened in them something that was more than sympathy. At this moment the three adventurers would willingly have given up allhopes of gold could sacrifice have brought back that sad, lonely oldman who had looked down upon them from the wall of the upper chasm. 

"I am sorry we cut down the stub, " said Rod. 

They were the first words spoken. 

"So am I, " replied Wabi simply, beginning to strip off his wetclothes. "But--" He stopped, and shrugged his shoulders. 

"What?"

"Well, we're taking it for granted that John Ball is dead. If he isdead why isn't he in the pool? By George, I should think that Mukoki'sold superstition would be getting the best of him!"

"I believe he is in the pool!" declared Rod. 

Wabi turned upon him and repeated the words he had spoken to the oldwarrior half an hour before. 

"Try it!"

After the attempts of the two Indians, who could dive like otter, Rodhad no inclination to follow Wabi's invitation. Mukoki, who had hungup a half of his clothes near the fire, was fitting one of the pansto the end of a long pole which he had cut from a sapling, and it wasobvious that his intention was to begin at once the dredging ofthe pool for gold. Rod joined him, and once more the excitement oftreasure hunting stirred in his veins. When the pan was on securelyWabi left the fire to join his companions, and the three returned tothe pool. With a long sweep of his improvised dredge Mukoki scooped uptwo quarts or more of sand and gravel and emptied it upon one of theflat rocks, and the two boys pounced upon it eagerly, raking it outwith their fingers and wiping the mud and sand from every suspiciouslooking pebble. 

"The quickest way is to wash it!" said Rod, as Mukoki dumped anotherload upon the rock. "I'll get some water!"

He ran to the camp for the remaining pans and when he turned back hesaw Wabi leaping in a grotesque dance about the rock while Mukokistood on the edge of the pool, his dredge poised over it, silent andgrinning. 

"What do you think of that?" cried the young Indian as Rod hurried tohim. "What do you think of that?"

He held out his hand, and in it there gleamed a third yellow nugget, fully twice as large as the one discovered by Mukoki!

Rod fairly gasped. "The pool must be full of 'em!"

He half-filled his pan with the sand and gravel and ran knee-deep outinto the running stream. In his eagerness he splashed over a part ofhis material with the wash, but he, excused himself by thinking thatthis was his first pan, and that with the rest he would be morecareful. He began to notice now that all of the sand was not washingout, and when he saw that it persisted in lying heavy and thick amongthe pebbles his heart leaped into his mouth. One more dip, and he heldhis pan to the light coming through the rift in the chasm. A thousandtiny, glittering particles met his eyes! In the center of the panthere gleamed dully a nugget of pure gold as big as a pea! At lastthey had struck it rich, so rich that he trembled as he stared downinto the pan, and the cry that had welled up in his throat was chokedback by the swift, excited beating of his heart. In that moment'sglance down into his treasure-laden pan he saw all of his hopesand all of his ambitions achieved. He was rich! In those gleamingparticles he saw freedom for his mother and himself. No longer abitter struggle for existence in the city, no more pinching andstriving and sacrifice that they might keep the little home in whichhis father had died! When he turned toward Wabigoon his face wasfilled with the ecstasy of those visions. He waded ashore and held hispan under the other's eyes. 

"Another nugget!" exclaimed Wabi excitedly. 

"Yes. But it isn't the nugget. It's the--" He moved the pan until thethousand little particles glittered and swam before the Indian's eyes. "It's the dust. The sand is full of gold!"

His voice trembled, his face was white. From his crouching postureWabi looked up at him, and they spoke no more words. 

Mukoki looked, and was silent. Then he went back to his dredging. Little by little Rod washed down his pan. Half an hour later he showedit again to Wabigoon. The pebbles were gone. What sand was left washeavy with the gleaming particles, and half buried in it all was theyellow nugget! In Wabi's pan there was no nugget but it was rich withthe gleam of fine gold. 

Mukoki had dredged a bushel of sand and gravel from the pool, and wasupon his knees beside the heap which he had piled on the rock. WhenRod went to that rock for his third pan of dirt the old warrior madeno sign that he had discovered anything. The early gloom of afternoonwas beginning to settle between the chasm walls, and at the end of hisfourth pan Rod found that it was becoming so dark that he couldno longer distinguish the yellow particles in the sand. With theexception of one nugget he had found only fine gold. With Wabi's dustwere three small nuggets. 

When they ceased work Mukoki rose from beside the rock, chuckling, grimacing, and holding out his hand. Wabi was the first to see, andhis cry of astonishment drew Rod quickly to his side. The hollow ofthe old warrior's hand was filled with nuggets! He turned them intoWabigoon's hand, and the young Indian turned them into Rod's, andas he felt the weight of the treasure he held Rod could no longerrestrain the yell of exultation that had been held in all thatafternoon. Jumping high into the air and whooping at every other stephe raced to the camp and soon had the small scale which they hadbrought with them from Wabinosh House. The nuggets they had found thatafternoon weighed full seven ounces, and the fine gold, after allowingthe deduction of a third for sand, weighed a little more than elevenounces. 

"Eighteen ounces--and a quarter!"

Rod gave the total in a voice tremulous with incredulity. 

"Eighteen ounces--at twenty dollars an ounce--three hundred and sixtydollars!" he figured rapidly. "By George--" The prospect seemed toobig for him, and he stopped. 

"Less than half a day's work, " added Wabi. "We're doing better thanJohn Ball and the Frenchmen. It means eighteen thousand dollars amonth!"

"And by autumn--" began Rod. 

He was interrupted by the inimitable chuckling laugh of Mukoki andfound the old warrior's face a map of creases and grimaces. 

"In twent' t'ous'nd moon--mak' heem how much?" he questioned. 

In all his life Wabigoon had never heard Mukoki joke before, and witha wild whoop of joy he rolled the stoical old pathfinder off the rockon which he was sitting, and Rod joined heartily in Wabi's merriment. 

And Mukoki's question proved not to be so much of a joke after all, as the boys were soon to learn. For several days the work went onuninterrupted. The buckskin bags in the balsam shelter grew heavierand heavier. Each succeeding hour added to the visions of the goldseekers. On the fifth day Rod found seventeen nuggets among his finegold, one of them as large as the end of his thumb. On the seventhcame the richest of all their panning, but on the ninth a startlingthing happened. Mukoki was compelled to work ceaselessly to keep thetwo boys supplied with "pay dirt" from the pool. His improvised dredgenow brought up only a handful or two of sand and pebbles at a dip. Itwas on this ninth day that the truth dawned upon them all. 

The pool was becoming exhausted of its treasure!

But the discovery brought no great gloom with it. Somewhere near thatpool must be the very source of the treasure itself, and the goldhunters were confident of finding it. Besides, they had alreadyaccumulated what to them was a considerable fortune, at least twothousand dollars apiece. For three more days the work continued, andthen Mukoki's dredge no longer brought up pebbles or sand from thebottom of the pool. 

The last pan was washed early in the morning, and as the warmweather had begun to taint the caribou meat Mukoki and Wabigoon leftimmediately after dinner to secure fresh meat out on the plains, whileRod remained in camp. The strange thick gloom of night which began togather in the chasm before the sun had disappeared beyond the plainsabove was already descending upon him when Rod began preparations forsupper. He knew that the Indians would not wait until dark beforereëntering the break between the mountains, and confident that theywould soon appear he began mixing up flour and water for their usualbatch of hot-stone biscuits. So intent was he upon his task that hedid not see a shadowy form creeping up foot by foot from the rocks. Hecaught no glimpse of the eyes that glared like smoldering coals fromout of the half darkness between him and the fall. 

His first knowledge of another presence came in a low, whining cry, acry that was not much more than a whisper, and he leaped to his feet, every nerve in his body once more tingling with that excitement whichhad possessed him when he stood under the rock talking to the madman. A dozen yards away he saw a face, a great, white, ghost-like face, staring at him from out of the thickening shadows, and under that faceand its tangled veil of beard and hair he saw the crouching form ofthe mad hunter!

In that moment Roderick Drew thanked God that he was not afraid. Standing full in the glow of the fire he stretched out his arms, as hehad once before reached them out to this weird creature, and again, softly, pleadingly, he called the name of John Ball! There came inreply a faint, almost unheard sound from the wild man, a sound thatwas repeated again and again, and which sent a thrill into the younghunter, for it was wondrously like the name he was calling: "JohnBall! John Ball! John Ball!" And as the mad hunter repeated that soundhe advanced, foot by foot, as though creeping upon all fours, and Rodsaw then that one of his arms was stretched out to him, and that inthe extended hand was a fish. 

He advanced a step, reaching out his own hands eagerly, and the wildcreature stopped, cringing as if fearing a blow. 

"John Ball! John Ball!" he repeated. He thought of no other words butthose, and advanced bit by bit as he called them gently again andagain. Now he was within ten feet of the old man, now eight, presentlyhe was so near that he might have reached him in a single leap. Thenhe stopped. 

The mad hunter laid down his fish. Slowly he retreated, murmuringincoherent sounds in his beard, then sprang to his feet and with awailing cry sped back toward the pool. Swiftly Rod followed. He sawthe form leap from the rocks at its edge, heard a heavy splash, andall was still!

For many minutes Rod stood with the spray of the cataract dashing inhis face. This time the madman's plunge into the cold depths at hisfeet filled him with none of the horror of that first insane leap fromthe rock above. Somewhere in that pool the old man was seeking refuge!What did it mean? His eyes scanned the thin sheet of water thatplunged down from the upper chasm. It was a dozen feet in width andhid the black wall of rock behind it like a thick veil. What was therejust behind that falling torrent? Was it possible that in the wallof rock behind the waterfall there was a place where John Ball foundconcealment?

Rod returned to camp, convinced that he had at last guessed a solutionto the mystery. John Ball was behind the cataract! The strangemurmurings of the old man who for a few moments had crouched soclose to him still rang in his ears, and he was sure that in thesehalf-articulate sounds had been John Ball's own name. If there hadbeen a doubt in his mind before, it was wiped away now. The mad hunterwas John Ball, and with that thought burning in his brain Rod stoppedbeside the fish--the madman's offering of peace--and turned his faceonce more back toward the black loneliness of the pool. 

Unconsciously a sobbing cry of sympathy fell softly from Rod's lips, and he called John Ball's name again, louder and louder, untilit echoed far down the gloomy depths of the chasm. There came noresponse. Then he turned to the fish. John Ball wished them to befriends, and he had brought this offering! In the firelight Rod sawthat it was a curious looking, dark-colored fish, covered with smallscales that were almost black. It was the size of a large trout, andyet it was not a trout. The head was thick and heavy, like a sucker's, and yet it was not a sucker. He looked at this head more closely, andgave a sudden start when he saw that it had no eyes!

In one great flood the truth swept upon him, the truth of what laybehind the cataract, of where John Ball had gone! For he held in hishands an eyeless creature of another world, a world hidden in thebowels of the earth itself, a proof that beyond the fall was a greatcavern filled with the mystery and the sightless things of eternalnight, and that in this cavern John Ball found his food and made hishome!

CHAPTER XVII

IN A SUBTERRANEAN WORLD

When Mukoki and Wabigoon returned half an hour later the hot-stonebiscuits were still unbaked. The fire was only a bed of coals. Besideit sat Rod, the strange fish upon the ground at his feet. BeforeMukoki had thrown down the pack of meat which he was carrying he wasshowing them this fish. Quickly he related what had happened. He addedto this some of the things which he had thought while sitting by thefire. The chief of these things were that just behind the cataract wasthe entrance to a great cavern, and that in this cavern they would notonly find John Ball, but also the rich storehouse of that treasure ofwhich they, had discovered a part in the pool. 

And as the night lengthened there was little talk about the gold andmuch about John Ball. Again and again Rod described the madman'svisit, the trembling, pleading voice, the offering of the fish, theeager glow that had come into the wild eyes when he talked to him andcalled him by name. Even Mukoki's stoic heart was struck by the deeppathos of it all. The mad hunter no longer carried his gun. He nolonger sought their lives. In his crazed brain something new andwonderful was at work, something that drew him to them, with thehalf-fear of an animal, and yet with growing trust. He was pleadingfor their companionship, their friendship, and deep down in his heartRod felt that the spark of sanity was not completely gone from JohnBall. 

When the three adventurers retired to their blankets in the cedarshelter it was not the thought of gold that quickened their blood inanticipation of the morning. The passing of an age would not dull theluster of what they had come to seek. It would wait for them. Thegreatest of all things--the sympathy of man for man--had stilled thatother passion in them. John Ball's salvation, and not more gold, wasthe day's work ahead of them now. 

With the dawn they were up, and by the time it was light enough to seethey were ready for the exploration of whatever was hidden behind thefall. In a rubber blanket Wabigoon wrapped a rifle and half a dozenpine torches. Mukoki carried a quantity of cooked meat. Standing onthe edge of the pool Rod pointed into the falling torrent. 

"He dived straight under, " he said. "The opening to the cavern isdirectly behind the shoot of falling water. "

Wabi placed his hat and coat upon a rock. 

"I'll try it first. Wait until I come back, " he said. 

Without another word he plunged into the pool. Minute after minutepassed, and he did not reappear. Rod was conscious of a nervous chillcreeping into his blood. But Mukoki was chuckling confidently. 

"Found heem!" he replied in response to the white youth's inquiringlook. 

As he spoke Wabigoon came up out of the pool like a great fish. Rodhelped him upon the rocks. 

"We're two bright ones, we are, Muky!" he exclaimed, as soon as hegained his breath. "Just behind the fall I ran up against the wall ofrock we found when we were hunting for John Ball, stood on my feet, and--" he swung his arms suggestively--"there I was, head andshoulders out of water, looking into a hole as big as a house!"

"Dive easy!" warned the old pathfinder, turning to Rod. "Bump head onrock--swush!"

"We won't have to dive, " continued Wabi. "The water directly under thefall of the stream isn't more than four feet deep. If we wade into itfrom over there we can make it easy. "

Taking his waterproof bundle the young Indian slipped into the poolclose up against the wall of rock that formed the foundation of theupper chasm and plunged straight into the tumbling cataract. Mukokifollowed close behind and preparing himself with a long breath Rodhurried into this new experience. For a moment he was conscious of asmothering weight upon him and a thunderous roaring in his ears, andhe was borne irresistibly down. There was still air in his lungs whenhe found himself safely through the deluge so he knew that its passagehad taken him only a brief but thrilling instant. For a time he couldsee nothing. Then he made out a dark form drawing itself up out of thewater. Beyond that there lay a chaos of midnight blackness, and heknew that his eyes were staring into the depths of a great cavern!

Gripping the edge of the rock ledge he dragged himself up as bothWabigoon and Mukoki had done, and found his feet upon a soft floor ofsand. Suddenly he felt a hand clutch his arm. A half-shout, risingfaintly above the wash of the cataract, sounded in his ear. 

"Look!"

He wiped the water from his eyes and gazed ahead of him. For a momenthe saw nothing. Then, so faintly that at first it appeared no largerthan a star, he caught the faint glimmer of a light. As he looked itbecame more and more distinct, and to his astonishment he saw thatit was slowly rising, like a huge will-o'-the-wisp that had suddenlyrisen from the floor of the cavern to float off into the utterblackness of space above. And even as he stared, gripping Wabi's armin his excitement, the strange light began to descend, and quicklydisappeared!

The two boys saw Mukoki slip off into the gloom, and withoutquestioning his motive they followed close behind. As they progressedthe sound of the fall came more and more faintly to their ears. Ablackness deeper than the gloom of the darkest night environed them, and the three now held to one another's arms. Rod understood why hiscompanions lighted no torches. Somewhere ahead of them was anotherlight, carried by the mad hunter. His blood thrilled with excitement. Where would John Ball lead them?

Suddenly he became conscious that they were no longer walking on alevel floor of sand but that they were ascending, as the light haddone. Mukoki stopped and for a full minute they stood and listened. The tumult of the fall came to them in a far, subdued murmur. Beyondthat there was not the breath of a sound in the strange world of gloomabout them. They were about to start on again when something heldthem, a whispering, sobbing echo, and Rod's heart seemed to stop itsbeating. It died away slowly, and a weird stillness fell after it. Then came a low moaning cry, a cry that was human in its agony, andyet which had in it something so near the savage that even Wabigoonfound himself trembling as he strained in futile effort to piercethe impenetrable gloom ahead. Before the cry had lost itself in thedistances of the cavern Mukoki was leading them on again. 

Step by step they followed in the path taken by the strange light. Rodknew that they were climbing a hill of sand, and that just beyondit they would see the light again, but he was not prepared for thestartling suddenness with which the next change came. As if a blackcurtain had dropped from before their eyes the three adventurersbeheld a scene that halted them in their tracks. A hundred paces awaya huge pitch-pine torch a yard in length was burning in the sand, andcrouching in the red glow of this, his arms stretched out as if in thesupplication of a strange prayer, was John Ball! Just beyond him wasthe gleam of water, inky-black in the weird flickerings of the torch, and toward this John Ball reached out in his grief. His voice came upsoftly to the three watchers now, so low that even in the vast silenceof the cavern it could barely be heard. To Roderick Drew it was as ifthe strange creature below him was sobbing like a heart-broken child, and he whispered in Wabigoon's ear. Then, foot by foot, so gently thathis moccasined feet made no sound, he approached the madman. 

Half-way to him he paused. 

"Hello, John Ball!" he called softly. 

The faint light of the torch was falling upon him, and he advancedanother step. The murmuring of the wild man ceased, but he made nomovement. He still knelt in his rigid posture, his arms stretchedtoward the black chaos beyond him. Rod came very close to him beforehe spoke again. 

"Is that you, John Ball?"

Slowly the kneeling figure turned, and once more Rod saw in those wildeyes, gleaming brightly now in the torch-light, the softer, thrillingglow of recognition and returning reason. He reached out his own armsand advanced boldly, calling John Ball's name, and the madman made noretreat but crouched lower in the sand, strange, soft sounds againfalling from his lips. Rod had come within half a dozen feet of himwhen he sprang up with the quickness of a cat, and with a wailingcry plunged waist deep into the water. With his arms stretchedentreatingly into the mysterious world beyond the torch-light heturned his face to the white youth, and Rod knew that he was trying asbest he could to tell him something. 

"What is it, John Ball?"

He went to the edge of the black water and waded out until it rose tohis knees, his eyes staring into the blackness. 

"What is it?"

He, too, pointed with one arm, and the madman gave an excited gesture. Then he placed his hands funnel-shaped to his mouth, as Rod had oftenseen Wabi and Mukoki do when calling moose, and there burst from him afar-reaching cry, and Rod's heart gave a sudden bound as he listened, for the cry was that of a woman's name!

"Dol--o--res-s-s-s--Dol--o--res-s-s-s--"

The cry died away in distant murmuring echoes, and with an answeringcry Rod shouted forth the name which he fancied John Ball had spoken. 

"Dolores! Dolores! Dolores!"

There came a sudden leaping plunge, and John Ball was at his feet, clasping him about the knees, and sobbing again and again thatname--Dolores. Rod put his arms about the old man's shoulders, and thegray, shaggy head fell against him. The sobbing voice grew lower, theweight of the head greater, and after a little Rod called loudly forMukoki and Wabigoon, for there was no longer movement or sound fromthe form at his feet, and he knew that something had happened to JohnBall. The two Indians were quickly at his side, and together theycarried the unconscious form of Ball within the circle of torch-light. The old man's eyes were closed, his claw-like fingers were clenchedfiercely upon his breast, and not until Mukoki placed a hand over hisheart did the three know that he was still breathing. 

"Now is our time to get him to camp, " said Wabi. "Lead the way withthe torch, Rod!"

There was not much weight to John Ball, and the two Indians carriedhim easily. At the fall the rubber blanket was wound about his headand the adventurers plunged under the cataract with their burden. Itwas an hour after that before the old man opened his eyes again. Rodwas close beside him and for a full minute the mad hunter gazedup into his face, then once more he sank off into that strangeunconsciousness which had overcome him in the cavern. Rod rosewhite-faced and turned to Mukoki and Wabigoon. 

"I'm afraid--he's dying, " he said. 

The Indians made no answer. For several minutes the three sat silentlyabout John Ball watching for signs of returning consciousness. Atlast Mukoki roused himself to take a pot of soup from the fire. Themovement seemed to stir John Ball into life, and Rod was at his sideagain, holding a cup of water to his lips. After a little he helpedthe old man to sit up, and a spoonful at a time the warm soup was fedto him. 

Through the whole of that day he returned to consciousness only forbrief intervals, lapsing back into a death-like sleep after eachawakening. During one of these periods of unconsciousness Wabi cutshort the tangled beard and hair, and for the first time they sawin all its emaciation the thin, ghastly face of the man who, half acentury before, had drawn the map that led them to the gold. There waslittle change in his condition during the night that followed, exceptthat now and then he muttered incoherently, and at these times Rodalways caught in his ravings the name that he had heard in the cavern. The next day there was no change. And there was still none on thethird. Even Mukoki, who had tried every expedient of wilderness craftin nursing, gave up in despair. So far as they could see John Ball hadno fever. Yet three-quarters of the time he lay as if dead. Nothingbut soup could be forced between his lips. 

On the second day Wabi revisited the subterranean world beyond thecataract. When he came back he had discovered the secret of thetreasure in the pool. The gold came from the cavern. The soft sandthrough which they had followed the strange light was rich in dust andnuggets. During the floods of spring water came into the cavern fromsomewhere, and flowing for a brief space out through the mouth of thecave brought with it the precious burden of treasure-laden sand whichwas dumped into the pool. The constant wash of the cataract had causedmost of the sand to overflow into the running stream, but the heaviergold-dust and nuggets remained in the trap into which they had fallen. 

But the joy that came of this discovery was subdued by thoughts ofJohn Ball. The gold meant everything to Rod, the realization of hishopes and ambitions; and he knew that it meant everything to hismother, and to all those who belonged to Mukoki and Wabigoon. But thegold could wait. They had already accumulated a small fortune, andthey could return for the rest a little later. At present they must dosomething for John Ball, the man to whom they were indebted for allthat they had found, and to whom the treasure really belonged. On thethird day Rod laid his plans before Wabi and Mukoki. 

"We must take John Ball back to the Post as quickly as we can, " hesaid. "It is our only chance of saving him. If we start now, whilethe water in the creek is deep enough to float our canoe, we can makeWabinosh House in ten or fifteen days. "

"It will be impossible to paddle against the swift current, " saidWabi. 

"That is true. But we can put John Ball into the canoe and tow himup-stream. It will be a long wade and hard work, but--"

He looked at Wabi in silence, then added, "Do we want John Ball to live, or do we want him to die?"

"If I thought he would live I would wade a thousand miles to savehim, " rejoined the young Indian. "It means little to us but work. Weknow where the rest of the gold is and can return to it within a fewweeks. "

If there had been a doubt in the boys' minds as to the right course topursue John Ball settled it himself that very afternoon. He awakenedfrom an unusually long stupor. His eyes were burning with a new light, and as Rod bent over him he whispered softly, but distinctly, "Dolores--Dolores--Where is Dolores?"

"Who is Dolores, John Ball?" whispered the white youth, his heartthumping wildly. "Who is Dolores?"

Ball drew up one of his emaciated hands and clasped it to his head, and a sobbing moan fell from his lips. Then, after a moment, herepeated, as though to himself, "Dolores--Dolores--Who is Dolores?"

The Indians had come near, and heard. But John Ball said no more. Heswallowed a few spoonfuls of soup and fell again into his death-liketrance. 

"Who is Dolores?" repeated Wabigoon, his face whitening as he lookedat Rod. "Is there somebody else in the cavern?"

"He is talking of some one whom he probably knew forty or fifty yearsago, " replied Rod. But his own face was white. He stared hard atWabigoon, and a strange look came into Mukoki's face. 

"Dolores, " he mused, without taking his eyes from Wabi. "It's awoman's name, or a girl's name. We must save John Ball! We must startfor Wabinosh House--now!"

"While he's unconscious we can tie the rope about him and hoist himinto the upper chasm, " quickly added Wabigoon. "Muky, get to work. Wemove this minute!"

It was still two hours before dusk, and now that they had determinedon returning to Wabinosh House the adventurers lost no time in gettingunder way. Wabi climbed the rope that was suspended from the upperchasm, and that part of their equipment which it was necessary to takeback with them was hoisted up by him. Mukoki sheltered the rest in theold cabin. John Ball was drawn up last. For an hour after that, untilthe gray shadows of night began settling about them, the three wadedup the shallow stream, pulling the canoe and its unconscious burdenafter them. That night the madman was not left unwatched for a minute. Mukoki sat beside him until eleven o'clock. Then Wabi took his turn. Alittle after midnight Rod was aroused by being violently pulled fromhis bed of balsam boughs. 

"For the love of Heaven, get up!" whispered the young Indian. "He'stalking, Rod! He's talking about Dolores, and about some kind of agreat beast that's bigger than anything that ever lived up here!Listen!"

The madman was moaning softly. 

"I've killed it, Dolores--I've killed it--killed it! Where is Dolores?Where--is--" There came a deep sigh, and John Ball was quiet. 

"Killed what?" panted Rod, his heart thumping until it choked him. 

"The beast--whatever it was, " whispered Wabi. "Rod, something terriblehappened in that cavern! We don't know the whole story. The Frenchmenwho killed themselves for possession of the birch-bark map playedonly a small part in it. The greater part was played by John Ball andDolores!"

For a long time the two listened, but the old man made no sound ormovement. 

"Better go back to bed, " said Wabi. "I thought if he was going to keepit up you would like to hear. I'll call you at two. "

But Rod could not sleep. For a long time he lay awake thinking of JohnBall and his, strange ravings. Who was Dolores? What terrible tragedyhad that black world under the mountains some time beheld? Despite hisbetter reason an indefinable sensation of uneasiness possessed him asthe madman's sobbing out of the woman's name recurred to him. He spokenothing of this to Wabi when he relieved him, and he said nothing ofit during the days that followed. They were days of unending toil, offierce effort to beat out death in the race to Wabinosh House. 

For it seemed that the end of time was very near for John Ball. On thefourth day his thin cheeks showed signs of fever, and on the fifth hewas tossing in delirium. The race now continued by night as well asby day, only an hour or two of rest being snatched at a time. Duringthese days John Ball babbled ceaselessly of Dolores, and great beasts, and the endless cavern; and now the beasts began taking the form ofstrange people whose eyes gleamed from out of masses of fur, and whohad hands, and flung spears. On the eighth day the madman sankback into his old lethargy. On the fourth day after that the threeadventurers, worn and exhausted, reached the shore of Lake Nipigon. Thirty miles across the lake was Wabinosh House, and it was decidedthat Mukoki and Rod should leave for assistance, while Wabigoonremained with John Ball. The two rolled themselves in their blanketsimmediately after supper, and after three hours' sleep were awakenedby the young Indian. All that night they paddled with only occasionalmoments of rest. The sun was just rising over the forests when theygrounded their canoe close to the Post. As Rod sprang ashore he saw afigure walk slowly out from the edge of the forest an eighth of a mileaway. Even at that distance he recognized Minnetaki! He looked at thesharp-eyed Mukoki. He, too, had seen and recognized the girl. 

"Muky, I'm going along in the edge of the woods and give her asurprise, " said Rod courageously. "Will you wait here?"

Mukoki grinned a nodding assent, and the youth darted into the edge ofthe forest. He was breathless when he came up a hundred yards behindthe girl, screened from view by the trees. Softly he whistled. It wasa signal that Minnetaki had taught him on his first trip into theNorth, and he knew of only two who used it in all that Northland, andthose two were the Indian maiden and himself. The girl turned asshe heard the trilling note, and Rod drew himself farther back. He whistled again, more loudly than before, and Minnetaki camehesitatingly toward the forest's edge, and when he whistled a thirdtime there came a timid response from her, as if she recognized andyet doubted the notes that floated to her from the shadows of thebalsams. 

Again Rod whistled, laughing as he drew a little farther back, andagain Minnetaki answered, peering in among the trees. He saw thewondering, half-expectant glow in her eyes, and suddenly crying outher name he sprang from his concealment. With a little cry of joy andwith hands outstretched Minnetaki ran to meet him. 

CHAPTER XVIII

JOHN BALL'S STORY

That same morning two big canoes set out across Lake Nipigon forWabigoon and John Ball. Mukoki returned with the canoes, but Rodremained at the Post, and not a moment's rest did he have during thewhole of that day from the eager questions of those whom he had socompletely surprised by his unexpected return. Few stories could havebeen more thrilling than his, though he told it in the simplest mannerpossible. Rod's appearance more than his words was evidence ofthe trials he and his companions had passed through. His face wasemaciated to startling thinness by desperate exertion and lack ofsleep, and both his face and his hands were covered with scratches andbruises. Not until late in the afternoon did he go to bed, and it wasnoon the following day when he awoke from his heavy slumber. 

The canoes had returned, and John Ball was in the doctor's care. Atdinner Rod and Wabi were made to go over their adventures again, andeven Mukoki, who had joined them in this reunion, was not allowed toescape the endless questioning of Minnetaki, the factor's wife, andRod's mother. Rod was seated at the table between Mrs. Drew andMinnetaki. Several times during the conversation he felt the younggirl's hand touch his arm. Once, when the factor spoke about theirreturn to the gold in the cavern, this mysterious signaling ofMinnetaki's took the form of a pinch that made him squirm. Not untilafter dinner, and the two were alone, did he begin to comprehend. 

"I'm ashamed of you, Roderick Drew!" said the girl, standing beforehim in mock displeasure. "You and Wabi were the stupidest things Iever saw at dinner! Have you all forgotten your promise to me?--yourpromise that I should go with you on your next trip? I wanted you tospeak about it right there at dinner!"

"But I--I--couldn't!" stammered Rod awkwardly. 

"But I'm going!" said Minnetaki decisively. "I'm going with you boyson this next trip--if I have to run away! It's not fair for Wabi andMukoki and you to leave me alone all of the time. And, besides, I'vebeen making all the arrangements while you were gone. I've won overmamma and your mother, and Maballa, mamma's Indian woman, will go withme. There's just one who says--'No!'" And Minnetaki clasped her handspathetically. 

"And that's papa, " completed Rod, laughing. 

"Yes. "

"Well, if he is the only one against us we stand a good chance ofwinning. "

"I'm going to have mamma and Wabigoon get him by themselves to-night, "said the girl. "Papa will do anything on earth for her, and he thinksWabi is the best boy on earth. Mamma says she will lock the door andwon't let him out until he has given his promise. Oh, what a glorioustime we'll have!"

"Perhaps he would go with us, " suggested Rod. 

"No, he couldn't leave the Post. If he went Wabi would have to stay. "

Rod was counting on his fingers. 

"That means six in our next expedition, --Wabi, Mukoki, John Ball andmyself, and you and Maballa. Why, it'll be a regular picnic party!"

Minnetaki's eyes were brimming with fun. 

"Do you know, " she said, "that Maballa thinks Mukoki is just about thenicest Indian that ever lived? Oh, I'd be so glad if--if--"

She puckered her mouth into a round, red O, and left Rod to guess therest. It was not difficult for him to understand. 

"So would I, " he cried. Then he added, "Muky is the best fellow on earth. "

"And Maballa is just as good, " said the girl loyally. 

The boy held out his hand. 

"Let's shake on that, Minnetaki! I'll handle Mukoki, you take care ofMaballa. What a picnic this next trip will be!"

"And there'll be lots and lots of adventures, won't there?" asked thegirl a little anxiously. 

"Plenty of them. " Rod became immediately serious. "This will be themost important of all our trips, Minnetaki, that is, if John Balllives. I haven't told the others, but I believe that great cavernholds something for us besides gold!"

The smile left the girl's face. Her eyes were soft and eager. 

"You believe that--Dolores--"

"I don't know what to believe. But--we'll find something there!"

For an hour Rod and Minnetaki talked of John Ball and of the strangethings he said in his delirium. Then the girl rejoined Mrs. Drew andthe princess mother, while Rod went in search of Mukoki and Wabigoon. That night the big event happened. George Newsome, the factor, gavea reluctant consent which meant that Wabi's sister and Maballa wouldaccompany the adventurers on their next journey into the untraveledsolitudes of Hudson Bay. 

For a week John Ball hovered between life and death. After that hisimprovement was slow but sure, and each day added strength to hisemaciated body and a new light to his eyes. At the end of the secondweek there was no question but that he was slowly returning to sanity. Gradually he came to know those who sat beside his bed, and wheneverRod visited him he insisted on holding the youth's hand. At first thesight of Minnetaki or her mother, or of Mrs. Drew, had a startlingeffect on him and in their presence he would moan ceaselessly the nameRod first heard in the cavern. A little at a time the language ofthose about him came back to the old man, and bit by bit those whowaited and listened and watched learned the story of John Ball. Midsummer came before he could gather the scattered threads of hislife in his memory, and even then there were breaks in this storywhich seemed but trivial things to John Ball, but which to the othersmeant the passing of forgotten years. 

In fact, years played but a small part in the strange story that fellfrom the old man's lips. "In time, " said the Post physician, "he willremember everything. Now only the most important happenings in hislife have returned to him. "

John Ball could not remember the date when, as a young boy, heleft York Factory, on Hudson Bay, to come a thousand miles down tocivilization in company with the two Frenchmen who killed themselvesin the old cabin. But the slip of paper which Rod had discoveredfilled that gap. He was the son of the factor at York Factory, and wasto spend a year at school in Montreal. On their trip down it was theboy who found gold in the chasm. John Ball could remember none of thedetails. He only knew that they remained to gather the treasure, andthat he, as its discoverer and the son of one of the lords of theHudson Bay Company, was to receive twice the share of the others, andthat in the autumn they were to return to York Factory instead ofgoing on to Montreal. He remembered indistinctly a quarrel over thegold, and after that of writing some sort of agreement, and then, early one morning, he awoke to find the two Frenchmen standing overhim, and after that, for a long time, everything seemed to pass as ina dream. 

When he awoke into life he was no longer in the chasm, but among astrange people who were so small that they reached barely to hisshoulders, and who dressed in fur, and carried spears, and though thesick man said no more about these people those who listened to himknew that he had wandered far north among the Eskimos. They treatedhim kindly, and he lived among them for a long time, hunting andfishing with them, and sleeping in houses built of ice and snow. 

The next that John Ball remembered was of white people. In some wayhe returned to York Factory, and he knew that when this happened manyyears had passed, for his father and mother were dead, and there werestrangers at the Post. At this time John Ball must have returnedfully to his reason again. He remembered, faintly, leading severalunsuccessful expeditions in search of the gold which he and theFrenchmen had discovered, and that once he went to a great city, whichmust have been Montreal, and that he stayed there a long time doingsomething for the Hudson Bay Company, and met a girl whom he married. When he spoke of the girl John Ball's eyes would glow feverishly andher name would fall from him in a moaning sob. For as yet returningreason had not placed the hand of age upon him. It was as if he wasawakening from a deep sleep, and Dolores, his young wife, had beenwith him but a few hours before. 

There came another break in John Ball's life after this. He could notremember how, long they lived in Montreal, but he knew that after atime he returned with his wife into the far North, and that they werevery happy, and one summer set off in a canoe to search for the lostchasm together. They found it. How or when he could not remember. After this John Ball's story was filled with wild visions of a greatblack world where there was neither sun nor moon nor stars, and theyfound gold and dug it by the light of fires. And one day the womanwent a little way back in this world and never came back. 

It was then that the old madness returned. In his search for his lostwife John Ball never found the end of the great cavern. He saw strangepeople, he fought great beasts in this black world that were largerthan the biggest moose in the forests, and he told of rushing torrentsand thundering cataracts in the bowels of the earth. Even in hisreturning sanity the old man told these things as true. 

George Newsome, the factor, lost no time in writing to the Company atMontreal, inquiring about John Ball, and a month later he receivedword that a man by that name had worked as an inspector of raw fursduring the years 1877 and 1878. He had left Montreal for the Norththirty years before. In all probability he soon after went in searchof the lost gold, and for more than a quarter of a century had livedas a wild man in the solitudes. 

It was at this time in the convalescence of the doctor's patient thatRoderick's mother made a suggestion which took the Post by storm. It was that the factor and his family accompany her and Rod back tocivilization for a few weeks' visit. To the astonishment of all, andespecially to Minnetaki and the princess mother, the factor fell inheartily with the scheme, with the stipulation that the Drews returnwith them early in the autumn. An agent from the head office of theCompany had come up for a month's fishing and he cheerfully expressedhis willingness to take charge of affairs at the Post during theirabsence. 

The happiness of Rod and Wabi was complete when Mukoki was compelledto give his promise to go with them. For several days the old warriorwithstood their combined assaults, but at last he surrendered whenMinnetaki put her arms around his neck and nestled her soft cheekagainst his leathery face, with the avowal that she would not move astep unless he went with her. 

So it happened, one beautiful summer morning, that three big canoesput out into the lake from Wabinosh House and headed into theSouth, and only Mukoki, of all the seven who were going down intocivilization, felt something that was not joy as the forests slippedbehind them. For Mukoki was to get a glimpse of a new world, a worldfar from the land of his fathers, and the loyal heart inside hiscaribou-skin coat quickened its pulse a little as he thought of thewonderful journey. 

Thus began the journey to civilization. 

THE END