early to the tired adventurers. Nor did anything occur during the night to awaken them.
Soon after dawn the trip down the chasm stream was resumed. With the abrupt turning of the channel to the north, however, there was an almost immediate change in the topography of the country. Within an hour the precipitous walls of the mountains gave place to verdure-covered slopes, and now and then the gold seekers found themselves between plains that swept back for a mile or more on either side. Frequent signs of game were observed along the shores of the river and several times during the morning moose and caribou were seen in the distance. A few months before, when they had invaded the wilderness to hunt and trap, this country would have aroused the wildest enthusiasm among Rod and his friends, but now they gave but little thought to their rifles. That morning they had set out with the intention of reaching the second waterfall before dusk, and it was with disappointment rather than gladness that they saw the swift current of the chasm torrent change into the slower, steadier sweep of a stream that had now widened into a fair-sized river. According to the map the second fall was about fifty-five miles from the mad hunter's camp. Darkness found them still fifteen miles from where it should be.
Excitement kept Rod awake most of that night. Try as he would, he could not keep visions of the lost treasure out of his mind. The next day they would be far on their way to the third and last waterfall. And then—the gold! That they might not find it, that the passing of half a century or more might have obliterated all traces left by its ancient discoverers, never for a moment disturbed his belief.
He was the first awake the following morning, the first to take his place in the canoe. Every minute now his ears were keenly attuned for that distant sound of falling water. But hours passed without a sign of it. Noon came. They had traveled six hours and had covered twenty-five miles instead of fifteen! Where was the waterfall?
There was a little more of anxiety in Wabigoon's eyes when they resumed their journey after dinner. Again and again Rod looked at his map, figuring out the distances as drawn by John Ball, the murdered Englishman. Surely the second waterfall could not be far away now! And still hour after hour passed, and mile after mile slipped behind them, until the three knew that they had gone fully thirty miles beyond where the cataract should have been, if the map was right. Twilight was falling when they stopped for supper. For the last hour Mukoki had spoken no word. A feeling of gloom was on them all; without questioning, each knew what the fears of the others were.
Was it possible that, after all, they had not solved the secret of the mysterious map?
The more Rod thought of it the more his fears possessed him. The two men who fought and died in the old cabin were on their way to civilization. They were taking gold with them, gold which they meant to exchange for supplies. Would they, at the same time, dare to have in their possession a map so closely defining their trail as the rude sketch on the bit of birch bark? Was there not some strange key, known only to themselves, necessary to the understanding of that sketch?
Mukoki had taken his rifle and disappeared in the plain along the river, and for a long time after they had eaten their bear steak and drank their hot coffee Rod and Wabigoon sat talking in the glow of the camp-fire. The old warrior had been gone for about an hour when suddenly there came the report of a gun from far down the stream, which was quickly followed by two others—three in rapid succession. After an interval of a few seconds there sounded two other shots.
"The signal!" cried Rod. "Mukoki wants us!"
Wabigoon sprang to his feet and emptied the five shots of his magazine into the air.
"Listen!"
Hardly had the echoes died away when there came again the reports of Mukoki's rifle.
Without another word the two boys hurried to the canoe, which had not been unloaded.
"He's a couple of miles down-stream," said Wabi, as they shoved off. "I wonder what's the matter?"
"I can make a pretty good guess," replied Rod, his voice trembling with a new excitement. "He has found the second waterfall!"
The thought gave fresh strength to their aching arms and the canoe sped swiftly down the stream. Fifteen minutes later another shot signaled to them, this time not more than a quarter of a mile away, and Wabi responded to it with a loud shout. Mukoki's voice floated back in an answering halloo, but before the young hunters came within sight of their comrade another sound reached their ears,—the muffled roar of a cataract! Again and again the boys sent their shouts of joy echoing through the night, and above the tumult of their own voices they heard the old warrior calling on them to put into shore. Mukoki was waiting for them when they landed.
"This is big un!" he greeted. "Mak' much noise, much swift water!"
"Hurrah!" yelled Rod for the twentieth time, jumping up and down in his excitement.
"Hurrah!" cried Wabi.
And Mukoki chuckled, and grinned, and rubbed his leathery hands together in high glee.
At last, when they had somewhat cooled down, Wabi said:
"That John Ball was a pretty poor fellow at a guess, eh? What do you say, Rod?"
"Or else pretty clever," added Rod. "By George, I wonder if he had a reason for making his scale fifty miles or so out of the way?"
Wabi looked at him, only partly understanding.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean that our third waterfall is more than likely to be mighty close to this one! And if it is—well, John Ball had a reason, and a good one! If we strike the last fall to-morrow it will be pretty good proof that he drew the map in a way intended to puzzle somebody,—perhaps his two partners, who were just about to start for civilization."
"Muky, how far have we come?" asked Wabigoon.
"T'ree time first fall," replied the old Indian quickly.
"A hundred and fifty miles—in three days and one night. I don't believe that is far out of the way. Then, according to the map, we should still be a hundred miles from the third fall."
"And we're not more than twenty-five!" declared Rod confidently. "Let's build a fire and go to bed. We'll have enough to do to-morrow—hunting gold!" The fourth day's journey was begun before it was yet light. Breakfast was eaten in the glow of the camp-fire, and by the time dawn broke the adventurers were already an hour upon their way. Nothing but confidence now, animated them. The mad hunter and his golden bullets were entirely forgotten in these last hours of their exciting quest. Once, far back, Rod had thought with chilling dread that this might be the madman's trail, that his golden bullets might come from the treasure they were seeking. But he gave no thought to this possibility now. His own belief that the third and last fall was not far distant, in spite of the evidence of the map, gradually gained possession of his companions, and the nerves of all three were keyed to the highest tension of expectancy. The preceding night Mukoki had made himself a paddle to replace the one he had broken, and not a stroke of the three pairs of arms was lost. Early in the morning a young moose allowed them to pass within a hundred yards of him. But no shot was fired, for to obtain the meat would have meant an hour's loss of time.
Two hours after the start the country again began taking on a sudden change. From east and west the wild mountain ridges closed in, and with each mile's progress the stream narrowed and grew swifter, until again it was running between chasm walls that rose black and silent over the adventurers' heads. Darker and gloomier became the break between the mountains. Far above, a thousand feet or more, dense forests of red pine flung their thick shadows
