ng her into the North. Rod, only you can save her!"

"Only--I--can--save--her?" gasped Rod slowly. "What do you mean?"

"Listen!" cried the Indian boy, clutching him by the arm. "You
remember that after our fight with the Woongas and our escape from the
chasm we fled to the south, and that the next day, while you were away
from camp hunting for some animal that would give us fat for Mukoki's
wound, you discovered a trail. You told us that you followed the
sledge tracks, and that after a time the party had been met by others
on snow-shoes, and that among the imprints in the snow was one that
made you think of Minnetaki. When we reached the Post we learned that
Minnetaki and two sledges had gone to Kenegami House and at once
concluded that those snow-shoe trails were made by Kenegami people
sent out to meet her. But they were not! They were made by Woongas!

"One of the guides, who escaped with a severe wound, brought the news
to us last night, and the doctor at the Post says that his hurt is
fatal and that he will not live another day. Everything depends on
you. You and the dying guide are the only two who know where to find
the place where the attack was made. It has been thawing for two days
and the trail may be obliterated. But you saw Minnetaki's footprints.
You saw the snow-shoe trails. You--and you alone--know which way they
went!"

Wabi spoke rapidly, excitedly, and then sank down on the sledge,
weakened by his exertion.

"We have been chasing you with two teams since dawn," he added, "and
pretty nearly killed the dogs. As a last chance we doubled up the
teams and I came on alone. I left Mukoki a dozen miles back on the
trail."

Rod's blood had turned cold with horror at the knowledge that
Minnetaki was in the clutches of Woonga himself. The terrible change
in Wabi was no longer a mystery. Both Minnetaki and her brother had
told him more than once of the relentless feud waged against Wabinosh
House by this bloodthirsty savage and during the last winter he had
come into personal contact with it. He had fought, had seen people
die, and had almost fallen a victim to Woonga's vengeance.

But it was not of these things that he thought just now. It was of the
reason for the feud, and something rose in his throat and choked him
until he made no effort to speak. Many years before, George Newsome, a
young Englishman, had come to Wabinosh House, and there he had met
and fallen in love with a beautiful Indian princes