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Updated: May 20, 2025
He put an arm around the shoulders of the old Indian, who was still lying upon his face in the snow. "Let me see, Muky let me see " "Chasm first," replied Mukoki. "She no bad. No hit bone. No bleed much." From behind Rod could see that Mukoki's coat was showing a growing blotch of red. "Are you sure you can reach the chasm?" "Yes."
He had seen it in Mukoki's eyes before, when the Indian believed that injury had come to those he loved; and when 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 the wilderness.
But up the hill he plunged behind Mukoki, his rifle cocked and ready. At the top they paused. The camp was a smoldering mass of ruins. Not a sign of life was about it. But With a gasping, wordless cry Rod caught Mukoki's arm and pointed to an object lying in the snow a dozen yards from where the cabin had been. The warrior had seen it.
The two now continued through the swamp. At its farther edge the ground rose gently from the creek toward the hills, and this sloping plain was covered with huge boulders and a thin growth of large spruce and birch. Just beyond the creek was a gigantic rock which immediately caught Mukoki's attention.
Mukoki had paused for a moment and Rod, unconscious of the fact, continued on his journey until he tumbled in a sprawling heap over the sled, knocking Mukoki's legs completely from under him in his fall. When Wabi ran back he found Rod flattened out, face downward, and Mukoki entangled in his site harness on top of him. In a way this accident was fortunate.
The young Indian had joined Rod at the open door and together they watched Mukoki's gaunt figure as it sped swiftly across the lake, up the hill and over into the wilderness desolation beyond. When Rod looked at Wabi he saw that the Indian boy's eyes were wide and staring, with an expression in them that was something between fright and horror.
Again and again Rod described the madman's visit, the trembling, pleading voice, the offering of the fish, the eager glow that had come into the wild eyes when he talked to him and called him by name. Even Mukoki's stoic heart was struck by the deep pathos of it all. The mad hunter no longer carried his gun. He no longer sought their lives.
He shook himself, grumbling under his breath at Mukoki's folly. And then: "The dogs have always acted queerly when Tavish was near," he added in a lower voice. "I can't explain why; they simply do. Instinct, possibly. His presence makes them uneasy. An unusual man, this Tavish. I wish he would come. I am anxious for you to meet him."
"What do you think of it, Muky?" "Keep close to shore," replied the old warrior, without stopping his work. "We mak' heem safe!" There was a good deal of consolation in Mukoki's words, for both youths still bore smarting reminders of his caution and good judgment.
Until their early dinner Wabi remained in camp, securing certain parts of the moose and assisting Rod in putting the cabin into a state of defense according to their previous plans. It was not yet noon when he started over Mukoki's trap-line. Left to his own uninterrupted thoughts, Rod's mind was once more absorbed in his scheme of exploring the mysterious chasm.
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