covered more than half a century before;
between the black mountain walls that so silently guarded that
treasure there seemed to lurk the spirit presence of the three men who
had died because of it. Here, somewhere very near, John Ball had been
murdered, and Rod almost fancied that along the sandy edge of the
chasm stream they might stumble on the footprints of the men whose
skeletons they had discovered in the ancient cabin.

Mukoki uttered no sound as he guided the canoe ashore. Still without
word, the three picked up their rifles and Wabigoon led the way along
the edge of the stream. Soon it dashed a swift racing torrent between
the rocks, and Rod and his companions knew that they were close upon
the fall. A hundred yards or more and they saw the white mist of it
leaping up before their eyes. Wabi began to run, his moccasined feet
springing from stone to stone with the caution of a hunter approaching
game, and Mukoki and Rod came close behind him.

They paused upon the edge of a great mass of rock with the spray of
the plunging cataract rising in their faces. Breathless they gazed
down. It was not a large fall. Wabi silently measured it at forty
feet. But it added just that much more to the depth and the gloom of
the chasm beyond, into which there seemed no way of descent. The rock
walls rose sheer and black, with clumps of cedar and stunted pine
growing at their feet. Farther on the space between the mountains
became wider, and the river reached out on either side, frothing and
beating itself into white fury in a chaos of slippery water-worn
rocks.

Down there--somewhere--was the golden treasure they had come to seek,
unless the map lied! Was it among those rocks, where the water dashed
and fumed? Was it hidden in some gloomy cavern of the mountain sides,
its trail concealed by the men who discovered it half an age ago?
Would they find it, after all--would they find it?

A great gulp of excitement rose in Rod's throat, and he looked at
Wabigoon.

The Indian youth had stretched out an arm. His eyes were blazing, his
whole attitude was one of tense emotion.

"There's the cabin," he cried, "the cabin built by John Ball and the
two Frenchmen! See, over there among those cedars, almost hidden in
that black shadow of the mountain! Great Scott, Muky--Rod--can't you
see? Can't you see?"

CHAPTER XIV

THE PAPER IN THE OLD TIN BOX

Slowly out of that mysterious gloom there grew a shape before Rod's
eyes.