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Every muscle in his powerful young body was strained to its utmost tension. Even more fully than his helpless burden did he realize the peril at their backs. Three minutes, four minutes more, and then A terrible picture burned in Wabi's brain, a picture he had carried from boyhood of another child, torn and mangled before his very eyes by these outlaws of the North, and he shuddered.
A brief examination showed that while the honors of the actual kill were with Rod, at least one, and perhaps two, of Wabi's shots had taken effect. The last shot from the white youth's rifle had struck the bear just below the right ear, causing almost instantaneous death. On this same side, which had been exposed to Rod's fire, was a body wound, undoubtedly made by the shot on the mountain side.
Wabi's face was flushed with excitement. His eyes sparkled. "Rod, what do you think!" he exclaimed, after his mother had gone back to see to the preparation of their supper. "The government has declared war on the Woongas and has sent up a company of regulars to wipe 'em out! They have been murdering and robbing as never before during the last two months. The regulars start after them to-morrow!"
The glimpse he had caught of Wabi's bloodshot eyes, the terrible thinness of the Indian youth's face, the chilling lifelessness of his hands, made him shiver with dread. Was it possible that a few short hours could bring about that remarkable transformation? And where was Mukoki, the faithful old warrior from whose guardianship Wabigoon and Minnetaki were seldom allowed to escape?
And even as he stared, gripping Wabi's arm in his excitement, the strange light began to descend, and quickly disappeared! The two boys saw Mukoki slip off into the gloom, and without questioning his motive they followed close behind. As they progressed the sound of the fall came more and more faintly to their ears.
"You right me wrong," the white boy heard Mukoki saying. "You save Minnetaki kill Woonga. Very much dam' dam' dam' brave man!" Mukoki was pressed back by Wabi's sister before he could say more, and a cool drink of spring water was placed to Roderick's lips. He felt feverish and the water gave him new strength. He turned his face to Minnetaki, and she smiled at him.
"Chunks!" cried Rod, straightening as if some one had run a pin into his 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 Roderick was upon his feet and running to his companion. "Mica doesn't come in chunks! Where " He bent over Wabi's pan.
His disappointment was acute and he could not repress a confession of his feelings to Wabi. The Indian youth at once suggested a happy remedy. They would take turns in using his gun, Rod to have it one day and he the next; and Wabi's heavy revolver would also change hands, so that the one who did not possess the rifle would be armed with the smaller weapon.
He saw the doomed monster turn, in the stillness heard the snapping of jaws, the snarling of hunger-crazed animals, and a sound that might have been a great, heaving moan or a dying bellow. In Wabi's veins the blood danced with the excitement that stirred his forefathers to battle. Not a line of the tragedy that was being enacted before his eyes escaped this native son of the wilderness.
Despite his uncomfortable position, Rod gave a whoop of joy, and no sooner did his feet touch solid bottom than he loosened himself from Wabi's grip and plunged toward the driftwood. On its very top he found the bear, as dead as a bullet through its side and another through its head could make it.