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Updated: June 14, 2025
Suddenly Rod asked: "Where is Wolf?" Wabi laughed, softly, exultantly. "Gone back to his people, Rod. He will be crying in the wild hunt-pack to-night. Good old Wolf!" The laugh left his lips and there was a tremble of regret in his voice. "The Woongas came from the back of the cabin took me by surprise and we had it hot and heavy for a few minutes.
Watch here, and if the Woongas show up in the valley open fire on them. I'll leave you my gun, too, so they'll think we are going to give them another fight. That will keep them back for a time. I'm going to stop Muky up here a little way and dress his wound. He will bleed to death if I don't." "And then go on," added Rod. "Don't stop if you hear me fire, but hurry on to the chasm.
Less than ten minutes later the Indian peered cautiously from behind a clump of hazel, and then looked back at Rod, a smile of satisfaction on his face. "They come," he breathed, just loud enough to hear. "They come!" Rod peered over his shoulder, and his heart smote mightily within him. Unconscious of their peril the Woongas were approaching two hundred yards away.
"Then you believe we are far enough away from the Woongas?" asked Rod. Mukoki grunted. "No believe Woongas come over mountain. Heap good game country back there. They stay."
"Has been captured by the Woongas. Chief Woonga himself is her captor, and they are taking her into the North. Rod, only you can save her!" "Only I can save her?" gasped Rod slowly. "What do you mean?" "Listen!" cried the Indian boy, clutching him by the arm.
Golden bullets and cries and Mukoki's superstitions are going to be worse than Woongas if we don't watch out!" "But the whole thing is as plain as day!" declared Rod in astonishment. "A man shot at the bear, and the same man shot at Mukoki, and he fired gold each time. Surely " "It's not the man part of it," interrupted the other. "It's the cry. There, Mukoki has his pack ready.
He smiled, courage gleaming with pain in his eyes, and swung off the light pack of furs. "We give 'em devil here!" Crouching, they peered over the edge of the hill. Half a dozen Woongas had already left the cedars and were following swiftly across the open. Others broke from the cover, and Wabi saw that a number of them were without snow-shoes.
"White blood makes thieves. Pardon me for saying it, Rod, but it does, at least among Indians. But our white blood up here is different from yours. It's the same blood that's in our Indians, every drop of it honest, loyal to its friends, and it runs red and strong with the love of this great wilderness. There are exceptions, of course, as you have seen in the Woongas, who are an outlaw race.
There could be no surer sign that Mukoki and Rod were still among the living, for why should the Woongas employ this caution if they had already successfully ambushed the hunters? With the chill of a cold hand at his throat the answer flashed into Wabigoon's brain. His friends had been ambushed, and these two Woongas were stealing back over the trail to slay him!
They would be constantly on the lookout for the Woongas, and if a fresh trail or a camp was found they would begin the man-hunt themselves. The sun was just beginning to sink behind the distant hills in the southwest when the hunters again left camp.
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