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Updated: May 6, 2025
His last intelligible vision was Mukoki piling logs upon the fire, while the flames shot up a dozen feet into the air, illumining to his drowsy eyes for an instant a wild chaos of rock, beyond which lay the mysterious and impenetrable blackness of the wilderness.
Before a rousing fire of logs Rod and Wabigoon began to see the cheerful side of life again, and as soon as Mukoki had built them a balsam shelter they stripped off their clothes and wrapped themselves in blankets, while the old Indian dried their outfits. It was two hours before they were dressed.
"Body slip under rock. He there!" "Try it!" said Wabigoon tersely. He hurried to the fire, and Rod went with him to gather more fuel while the young Indian warmed his chilled body. They heard the old pathfinder 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.
"There stand there, Mukoki, back to the tree, as you said you were when the shot was fired. Great Caesar, that fellow had a dead line on your head two inches high! No wonder it made 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 say it again if it makes you mad."
It is in the heart of the wildest country on the continent, and surely if such a rich find had been made we would have heard something about it at Wabinosh House or Kenegami, which are the nearest 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.
At the end of half an hour Mukoki, who was in the lead that he might set a pace according to his strength, quickened his steps. Rod was close beside him now, his eyes ceaselessly searching the chasm wall for signs that would tell him when they were nearing the rift. Suddenly Wabi halted in his tracks and gave a low hiss that stopped them. "It's snowing!" he whispered. Mukoki lifted his face.
I know the way and will join you. I'm as strong as I ever was now, and can catch up with you easily with Mukoki traveling as slowly as he does." During this brief conversation Mukoki had continued his way along the ridge and Wabi hurried to overtake him.
In the twilight gloom Rod's face shone with singular whiteness. Mukoki and Wabigoon crouched like bronze silhouettes. It was as if some mysterious influence held them in its power, forbidding speech, holding their eyes in staring expectancy straight ahead, filling them with indefinable sensations that made their hearts beat faster and their blood tingle.
Mukoki listened, and attended to the clothes drying before the fire, now and then walking out into the gloom of the chasm to look up to where the white rim of the fall burst over the edge of the great rock above them. All that afternoon Wabi and Rod had forgotten the mad hunter and the strange, smoothly worn tree. Mukoki had not.
The old warrior stood leaning on his rifle, speechless and motionless, his eyes regarding the process of rekindling the fire with mute disapprobation. Wabi, poised on one knee, looked at him questioningly. "No make more fire," said the old Indian, shaking his head. "No dare stay here. Go on beyond mountain!" Mukoki straightened himself and stretched a long arm toward the north.
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