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It was Mukoki who had first carried the baby Wabi about the woods upon his shoulders; it was he who had played with him, cared for him, and taught him in the ways of the wild in early childhood, and it was he who had missed him most, with little Minnetaki, when he went away to school.
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 grown strangely white, his voice trembled. "What about Minnetaki?" Again the Indian youth fought to bring himself back to life. His words came faintly, "Minnetaki has been captured by the Woongas!" Then even his breath seemed to stop, and he lay like one dead.
It seemed a long time before he heard sound again, and when he stirred himself, struggling toward consciousness, there came 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 his eyes.
Happy visions filled his mind all that afternoon as they traveled across the foot of the lake. Three weeks more and he would see his mother and home. And Wabi was going with him! He seemed tireless; his spirits were never exhausted; he laughed, whistled, even attempted to sing. He wondered if Minnetaki would be very glad to see him. He knew that she would be glad but how glad?
He laughed across at Rod, a little uneasily, but with the old light back in his eyes. Suddenly he asked: "Did Minnetaki ever tell you anything queer about Mukoki, Rod?" "Nothing more than you have told me yourself." "Well, once in a great while Mukoki has not exactly a fit, but a little mad spell! I have never determined to my own satisfaction whether he is really out of his head or not.
With a glad laughing cry Minnetaki leaned over and kissed her brother, while at the same time her dark eyes shot a curious glance at the youth of whom she had read and heard so much. At this time Minnetaki was fifteen. Like her mother's race she was slender, of almost woman's height, and unconsciously as graceful as a fawn in her movements.
That she had been here a few minutes before he could tell by the fact that the ice about the birch-bark was broken, as though the girl had tested its thickness by shoving the light craft out into it for a few feet. Her footsteps led plainly up the shelving shore and into the forest. "O Minnetaki Minnetaki!" Rod called loudly and listened. There was no response.
But Minnetaki came down to the canoe with them, and when Wabi kissed her she burst into tears, and Rod felt a queer thickening in his throat as he took her firm 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 a last shout Wabi shoved off and the canoe sped out into the gloom.
As mysterious and unaccountable as the fact seemed, there was no doubt that the old cabin was a retreat known only to Woonga himself, and as the four sat in the warm glow of the fire, eating and drinking, the whole adventure was gone over again and again until there seemed no part of it left in doubt. Minnetaki described her capture and explained the slowness of their flight after the massacre.
"I want you to tell me what the trouble is, Wabi," he demanded. "What has gone wrong?" Wabi jumped to his feet with a little laugh. "Did you ever have a dream that bothered you, Rod?" he asked. "Well, I had one last night, and since then somehow I can't keep from worrying about the people back at the Post, and especially about Minnetaki. It's all what do you call it bosh? Listen!
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