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Updated: July 9, 2025
He knew that it was now more important for him to recover his wind than to fight, and he drew great drafts of air into his lungs while his two comrades leveled their rifles. He could fire after they were done if it was necessary. There was slow deadly deliberation in the way Mukoki and Wabigoon sighted along their rifle-barrels.
Then, after a moment, he repeated, as though to himself, "Dolores Dolores Who is Dolores?" The Indians had come near, and heard. But John Ball said no more. He swallowed a few spoonfuls of soup and fell again into his death-like trance. "Who is Dolores?" repeated Wabigoon, his face whitening as he looked at Rod. "Is there somebody else in the cavern?"
Behind that face, immobile, almost expressionless, worked a mind alive to every trick and secret of the vast solitudes, and even before his young comrades had gained the use of their tongues he was, in his savage imagination, traveling swiftly back over the trail of the monster bear to the gun that had fired the golden bullet. Wabigoon understood him, and watched him eagerly.
The sun had destroyed his last hope. He was glad that Mukoki and Wabigoon were at the foot of the ridge, for he knew that his despair almost brought tears to his eyes, Minnetaki's fate was in his hands and he had failed. He dreaded to tell his companions, to let them see his face. For once in his life, though he was as courageous a youth as ever lived, Roderick Drew almost wished that he was dead.
"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.
Drew was a woman of education and refinement, and her interest in Wabigoon was almost that of a mother. In this environment the ragged edges were smoothed away from the Indian boy's deportment, and his letters to Minnetaki were more and more filled with enthusiastic descriptions of his new friends. After a little Mrs.
"Just now, if you traveled from here to the end of this storm zone you wouldn't find a living four-legged creature," said Wabigoon. "Every moose in this country, every deer and caribou, every fox and wolf, is buried in the snow.
We beat the Woongas in the chasm we'll beat them now! We'll find Minnetaki if it takes us until doomsday!" From far back in the forest there came the faint pistol-like cracks of a whip, the distant hallooing of a voice. For a few moments the three stood listening. The voice came again. "It's Mukoki," said Wabigoon, "Mukoki and the other dogs!"
The night passed with tedious slowness, and he was glad when, a little after midnight, Wabi came out to relieve him. At dawn he was in turn awakened by the young Indian. Mukoki was already up and had prepared his pack. Apparently he had regained his old spirits, but both Rod and Wabigoon could see that behind them the fear of the preceding night still haunted him.
The night was unusually warm, and both Mukoki and Wabigoon hung out their wet clothes to dry while they slept in their blankets. Rod did not open his eyes again until Wabi awakened him in the morning. Both Indians were dressed and it was evident that they had been up for some time.
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