bring his mother with him.
At supper the princess mother several times pressed Minnetaki's invitation upon the young hunter. She read to him parts of certain letters which she had received from Mrs. Drew during the winter, and Rod was overjoyed to find that his mother was not only in good health, but that she had given her promise to visit Wabinosh House the following summer. Wabi broke all table etiquette by giving vent to a warlike whoop of joy at this announcement, and once more Rod's spirits rose high above his temporary disappointments.
That night the furs were appraised and purchased by the factor for his Company, and Rod's share, including his third of the gold, was nearly seven hundred dollars. The next morning the bi-monthly sled party, was leaving for civilization, and he prepared to go with it, after writing a long letter to Minnetaki, which was to be carried to her by the faithful Mukoki. Most of that night Wabi and his friend sat up and talked, and made plans. It was believed that the campaign against the Woongas would be a short and decisive one. By spring all trouble would be over.
"And you'll come back as soon as you can?" pleaded Wabi for the hundredth time. "You'll come back by the time the ice breaks up?"
"If I am alive!" pledged the city youth.
"And you'll bring your mother?"
"She has promised."
"And then—for the gold!"
"For the gold!"
Wabi held out his hand and the two gripped heartily.
"And Minnetaki will be here then—I swear it!" said the Indian youth, laughing.
Rod blushed.
And that night alone he slipped quietly out into the still, white night; and he looked, longingly, far into the southeast where he had found the footprint in the snow; and he turned to the north, and the east, and the west, and lastly to the south, and his eyes seemed to travel through the distance of a thousand miles to where a home and a mother lay sleeping in a great city. And as he turned back to the House of Wabinosh, where all the lights were out, he spoke softly to himself:
"It's home—to-morrow!"
And then he added:
"But you bet I'll be back by the time the ice breaks up!"
THE GOLD HUNTERS
Chapter I. The Pursuit of the Hudson Bay Mail
Chapter II. Minnetaki in the Hands of the Outlaws
Chapter III. On the Trail of the Woongas
Chapter IV. Rod Follows the Man-Footed Bear
Chapter V. Rod's Fight for Life
Chapter VI. The Shadow of Death
Chapter VII. On the Trail of Gold
Chapter VIII. The Yellow Bullet
Chapter X. The Mysterious Shot
Chapter XI. The Cry in the Chasm
Chapter XII. Wabi Makes a Strange Discovery
Chapter XIII. The Third Waterfall
Chapter XIV. The Paper in the Old Tin Box
Chapter XV. The Treasure in the Pool
Chapter XVI. John Ball and the Mystery of the Gold
Chapter XVII. In a Subterranean World
Chapter XVIII. John Ball's Story
To the sweet-voiced, dark-eyed little half-Cree maiden at Lac-Bain, who is the Minnetaki of this story; and to "Teddy" Brown, guide and trapper, and loyal comrade of the author in many of his adventures, this book is affectionately dedicated.
CHAPTER I
THE PURSUIT OF THE HUDSON BAY MAIL
The deep hush of noon hovered over the vast solitude of Canadian forest. The moose and caribou had fed since early dawn, and were resting quietly in the warmth of the February sun; the lynx was curled away in his niche between the great rocks, waiting for the sun to sink farther into the north and west before resuming his marauding adventures; the fox was taking his midday slumber and the restless moose-birds were fluffing themselves lazily in the warm glow that was beginning to melt the snows of late winter.
It was that hour when the old hunter on the trail takes off his pack, silently gathers wood for a fire, eats his dinner and smokes his pipe, eyes and ears alert;—that hour when if you speak above a whisper, he will say to you,
"Sh-h-h-h! Be quiet! You can't tell how near we are to game. Everything has had its morning feed and is lying low. The game won't be moving again for an hour or two, and there may be moose or caribou a gunshot ahead. We couldn't hear them—now!"
And yet, after a time one thing detached itself from this lifeless solitude. At first it was nothing more than a spot on the sunny side of a snow-covered ridge. Then it moved, stretched itself like a dog, with its forefeet extended far to the front and its shoulders hunched low—and was a wolf.
A wolf is a heavy sleeper after a feast. A hunter would have said that this wolf had gorged itself the night before. Still, something had alarmed it. Faintly there came to this wilderness outlaw that most thrilling of all things to the
