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Updated: May 10, 2025
If there is such a thing as love at first sight, it sprang into existence the moment John Newsome's eyes fell upon this lovely princess. Thereafter his visits to Wabigoon's village, thirty miles deeper in the wilderness, were of frequent occurrence. From the beginning Minnetaki returned the young factor's affections, but a most potent reason prevented their marriage.
The trail of one sledge led into the northeast, that of the other into the northwest! With which sledge was Minnetaki? They looked at one another in bewilderment. 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.
Next to Minnetaki and Wabigoon, and perhaps himself, he knew that the faithful pathfinder loved Wolf best, and that; he was filled with a little of that savage madness which came to him now and then when he dwelt on the terrible tragedy that had entered his life many years before.
"I don't see why Minnetaki doesn't come back," he remarked carelessly, as he fastened a shoulder-strap about a bundle. "Breakfast will be ready in a jiffy. Hunt her up, will you, Rod?" Nothing loath, Rod started out on a brisk run along the path which he knew to be a favorite with Minnetaki and shortly it brought him down to a pebbly stretch of the beach where she frequently left her canoe.
Why had he pursued the mail until his dogs were nearly dead, and he himself had fallen unconscious in his tracks? Was Minnetaki dead? Had the Woongas killed Wabi's beautiful little sister? Again and again he implored his friend to speak to him, until the courier pushed him back and carried Wabi to the mail sled. "Hustle up there to that bunch of spruce and build a fire," he commanded.
In the next breath he uttered the only expression of supreme disgust in his vocabulary a long-drawn, hissing sound which he used only in those moments when his command of English was entirely inadequate to the 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 heem there make us think wrong."
That day and night in the old cabin was one of the pleasantest within Rod's memory, despite the youth's wound. A cheerful fire of dry pine and poplar burned in the stone fireplace, and when Minnetaki announced that the evening meal was ready Rod was for the first time allowed to leave his bunk.
He did not attempt to solve the mystery of the trail beyond the fact that it was not made by a bear and that the handprint on the log was not made by a man. But he was certain of one thing. In some way Minnetaki was associated with both. When he continued his pursuit he made his way with extreme caution.
He was breathing hard and excitedly. "Can't you stay and join in the campaign?" he pleaded. "I can't," replied Rod. "I can't, Wabi; I've got to go home. You know that. And you're going with me. The regulars can get along without you. Go back to Detroit with me and get your mother to let Minnetaki go with us." "Not now, Rod," said the Indian youth, taking his friend's hand.
At least Roderick himself had thought it would be there. But as they came nearer a single canoe shot out suddenly from the shore and the young hunters could see a white handkerchief waving them greeting. Wabi replied with a whoop of pleasure and fired his gun into the air. "It's Minnetaki!" he cried. "She said she would watch for us and come out to meet us!" Minnetaki!
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