in.
Every few steps Mukoki paused, listening and watchful. Not the
smallest twig broke under his moccasined feet; the movement of the
smallest bird, the trembling of a bush, the scurry of a rabbit halted
him, rigid, his rifle half to shoulder. And Rod and Wabigoon soon
become filled with this same panic-stricken fear. What terrible dread
was it that filled Mukoki's soul? Had he seen something of which he
had not told them? Did he think something which he had not revealed?

Foot by foot the three came to the top of the ridge. There Mukoki
straightened himself, and stood erect. There were no signs of a living
creature about them. Down in the dip nestled the little lake, gleaming
in the midday sun. They could make out the debris of the burned cabin
in which they had passed their hunting season, and close to this was
the pack which Mukoki had dropped there the night before. No one had
molested it. Wabi's face relaxed. Rod, breathing easier, laughed
softly. What had there been to fear? He glanced questioningly at
Mukoki.

"There rocks, there tree," said the old warrior, in answer to Rod's
glance, "down there went scream!" He pointed far out across the plain.

Wabi had gone to the tree.

"See here, Rod!" he cried. "By George, this was a close shave!" He
pointed to a tiny hole freshly made in the smooth white surface of the
tree as the others came up. "There--stand there, Mukoki, back to the
tree, as you said you were when the shot was fired. Great Caesar, that
fellow had a dead line on your head--two inches high! No wonder it
made you think the scream of a lynx was something else!"

"No lynx," said Mukoki, his face darkening.

"Shame on you, Muky!" laughed Wabigoon. "Don't get angry. I won't say
it again if it makes you mad."

Rod had drawn his hunting-knife and was prodding the point of it in
the bullet hole.

"I can feel the ball," he said. "It's not in more than an inch."

"That's curious," exclaimed Wabigoon, coming close beside him. "It
ought to be half-way through the tree at least! Eh, Muky? I don't
believe it would have hurt--"

He stopped. Rod had turned with a sudden excited cry. He held out his
knife, tip upward, and pointed to it with the index finger of his free
hand. Wabi's eyes fell on the tip of the blade. Mukoki stared. For a
full half minute the three stood in speechless amazement. Clinging to
the knife tip was a tiny fleck of yellow, gleaming lustrously in the
sun as Rod slowly turned the handl