of snow-shoes! Whoever had been there had passed since he shot the fox, for the imprints of the animal's feet were buried under those of the snow-shoes.
Who was the other person in the chasm?
Was it Wabi?
Had Mukoki or he come to join him? Or—
He looked again at the snow-shoe trail. It was a peculiar trail, unlike the one made by his own shoes. The imprints were a foot longer than his own, and narrower. Neither Wabi nor Mukoki wore shoes that would make that trail!
At this point the strange trail had turned and disappeared among the rocks along the wall of the mountain, and it occurred to Rod that perhaps the stranger had not discovered his presence in the chasm. There was some consolation in this thought, but it was doomed to quick disappointment. Very cautiously the youth advanced, his rifle held in readiness and his eyes searching every place of concealment ahead of him. A hundred yards farther on the stranger had stopped, and from the way in which the snow was packed Rod knew that he had stood in a listening and watchful attitude for some time. From this point the trail took another turn and came down until, from behind a huge rock, the stranger had cautiously peered out upon the path made by the white youth.
It was evident that he was extremely anxious to prevent the discovery of his own trail, for now the mysterious spy threaded his way behind rocks until he had again come to the shelter of the mountain wall.
Rod was perplexed. He realized the peril of his dilemma, and yet he knew not what course to take to evade it. He had little doubt that the trail was made by one of the treacherous Woongas, and that the Indian not only knew of his presence, but was somewhere in the rocks ahead of him, perhaps even now waiting behind some ambuscade to shoot him. Should he follow the trail, or would it be safer to steal along among the rocks of the opposite wall of the chasm?
He had decided upon the latter course when his eyes caught a narrow horizontal slit cleaving the face of the mountain on his left, toward which the snow-shoe tracks seemed to lead. With his rifle ready for instant use the youth slowly approached the fissure, and was surprised to find that it was a complete break in the wall of rock, not more than four feet wide, and continuing on a steady incline to the summit of the ridge. At the mouth of this fissure his mysterious watcher had taken off his snow-shoes and Rod could see where he had climbed up the narrow exit from the chasm.
With a profound sense of relief the young hunter hurried along the base of the mountain, keeping well within its shelter so that eyes that might be spying from above could not see his movements. He now felt no fear of danger. The stranger's flight up the cleft in the chasm wall and his careful attempts to conceal his trail among the rocks assured Rod that he had no designs upon his life. His chief purpose had seemed to be to keep secret his own presence in the gorge, and this fact in itself added to the mystification of the white youth. For a long time he had been secretly puzzled, and had evolved certain ideas of his own because of the movements of the Woongas. Contrary to the opinions of Mukoki and Wabigoon, he believed that the red outlaws were perfectly conscious of their presence in the dip. From the first their actions had been unaccountable, but not once had one of their snow-shoe trails crossed their trap-lines.
Was this fact in itself not significant? Rod was of a contemplative theoretical turn of mind, one of those wide-awake, interesting young fellows who find food for conjecture in almost every incident that occurs, and his suspicions were now aroused to an unusual pitch. A chief fault, however, was that he kept most of his suspicions to himself, for he believed that Mukoki and Wabigoon, born and taught in the life of the wilderness, were infallible in their knowledge of the ways and the laws and the perils of the world they were in.
CHAPTER XII
THE SECRET OF THE SKELETON'S HAND
A little before noon Rod arrived at the top of the hill from which he could look down on their camp. He was filled with pleasurable anticipation, and with an unbounded swelling satisfaction that caused him to smile as he proceeded into the dip. He had found a fortune in the mysterious chasm. The burden of the silver fox upon his shoulders was a most pleasing reminder of that, and he pictured the moment when the good-natured raillery of Mukoki and Wabigoon would be suddenly turned into astonishment and joy.
As he approached the cabin the young hunter tried to appear disgusted and half sick, and his effort was not bad in spite of his decided inclination to laugh. Wabi met him in the doorway, grinning broadly, and Mukoki greeted him with a throatful of his inimitable chuckles.
"Aha, here's Rod with a packful of gold!" cried the young Indian, striking an expectant attitude. "Will you let us see the treasure?" In spite of his banter there was gladness in his face at Rod's arrival.
The youth threw off his pack with a spiritless effort and flopped into a chair as though in the last stage of exhaustion.
"You'll have to undo the pack," he replied. "I'm too tired and hungry."
Wabi's manner changed at once to one of real sympathy.
"I'll bet you're tired, Rod, and half starved. We'll have dinner in a hurry. Ho, Muky, put on the steak, will you?"
There followed a rattle of kettles and tin pans and the Indian youth gave Rod a glad slap on the back as he hurried to the table. He was evidently in high spirits, and burst into a snatch of song as he cut up a loaf of bread.
"I'm tickled to see you back," he admitted, "for I was getting a little bit nervous. We had splendid luck on our lines yesterday. Brought in another 'cross' and three mink. Did you see anything?"
"Aren't you going to look in the pack?"
Wabi turned and gazed at his companion with a half-curious hesitating smile.
"Anything in it?" he asked suspiciously.
"See here, boys," cried Rod, forgetting himself in his suppressed enthusiasm. "I said there was a treasure in that chasm, and there was. I found it. You are welcome to look into that pack if you wish!"
Wabi dropped the knife with which he was cutting the bread and went to the pack. He touched it with the toe of his boot, lifted it in his hands, and glanced at Rod again.
"It isn't a joke?" he asked.
"No."
Rod turned his back upon the scene and began to take off his coat as coolly as though it were the commonest thing in the world for him to bring silver foxes into camp. Only when Wabi gave a suppressed yell did he turn about, and then he found the Indian standing erect and holding out the silver to the astonished gaze of Mukoki.
"Is it a good one?" he asked.
"A beauty!" gasped Wabi.
Mukoki had taken the animal and was examining it with the critical eyes of a connoisseur.
"Ver' fine!" he said. "At Post heem worth fi' hundred dollars—at Montreal t'ree hundred more!"
Wabi strode across the cabin and thrust out his hand.
"Shake, Rod!"
As the two gripped hands he turned to Mukoki.
"Bear witness, Mukoki, that this young gentleman is no longer a tenderfoot. He has shot a silver fox. He has done a whole
