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Updated: June 14, 2025
"I knew you'd come, boys dear old friends!" As he spoke he turned to the fallen leader and Rod saw him take possession of the rifle and revolver which he had lost in their fight with the Woongas weeks before. Mukoki had already spied their precious pack of furs on one of the outlaw's backs, and he flung it over his own. "You saw the camp?" queried Wabi excitedly. "Yes."
"I take load to-night." During the two hours' paddle up-stream Mukoki spoke but little, and as they approached nearer to their last winter's thrilling fight with the Woongas, in which they had so nearly lost their lives, he ceased even to respond by nod or grunt to the conversation of his companions.
Those who were left moved to the vicinity of the Post. Hunters from Wabinosh House were ambushed and slain. Indians who came to the Post to trade were regarded as enemies, and the passing of years seemed to make but little difference. The feud still existed. The outlaws came to be spoken of as "Woongas," and a Woonga was regarded as a fair target for any man's rifle.
If the spy whose trail had revealed the break in the mountain to Rod was not among the outlaws' wounded or dead the cleft might be guarded, or the Woongas themselves might employ it in making a descent upon them. "It's worth the risk anyway," said Wabi. "The chances are even that your outlaw ran across the fissure by accident and that his companions are not aware of its existence.
At the foot of the hill he abandoned the outlaw trail and Rod realized that his plan was to sweep swiftly in a semicircle, surprising the Woongas from the front or side instead of approaching from the rear. Again he was taxed to his utmost to keep pace with the avenging Mukoki.
No look like bad man Woonga to Mukoki!" When Rod finally emerged from his den to join the others his face was flushed and wore what Wabi described as a "sheepish grin." "It's all right for you fellows to make fun of me," he declared. "But what if they had been Woongas? By George, if we're ever attacked again I won't do a thing. I'll let you fellows fight 'em off!"
He measured his range by a jackpine stub, and when two of the Woongas had reached and passed that stub he fired. He saw the snow thrown up six feet in front of the leader. He fired again, and again, and one of the shots, a little high, struck the second outlaw. The leader had darted back to the shelter of the stub and Rod sent another bullet whizzing past his ears.
"Go back and eat and drink, and build the fire up high. Don't mind me when I shoot. I am going to fire just to let the Woongas know we are on guard, and after that we'll hustle for that break in the mountain." Rod found Mukoki with a chunk of rabbit in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other.
"But the wounded driver told us that there were at least a dozen Woongas in the attacking party," said Wabi. The old warrior chuckled, and for a moment his face twisted itself into a ludicrous grimace. "Driver lie!" he declared. "He run when fight begin. Shot in back while heem run!" He pointed into the cold depths of the forest. "No sun there! Follow trail easy!"
He began to reload his rifles and by the time he had finished the Woongas had separated and were running to the right and the left of him. For the last time he looked at his watch. Wabi and Mukoki had been gone thirty-five minutes. The boy crept back from his rock, straightened himself, and followed in their trail.
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