g men of the Woonga tribe! Rod understood their terrible
predicament. To attack the outlaws in an effort to rescue Wabi meant
that an overwhelming force would be upon them within a few minutes; to
allow Wabi to remain a captive meant--he shuddered at the thought of
what it might mean, for he knew of the merciless vengeance of the
Woongas upon the House of Wabinosh.

And while he was thinking of these things the faithful old warrior
beside him had already formed his plan of attack. He would die with
Wabi, gladly--a fighting, terrible slave to devotion to the last; but he
would not see Wabi die alone. A whispered word, a last look at his
rifle, and Mukoki hurried down into the plains.

At the foot of the hill he abandoned the outlaw trail and Rod realized
that his plan was to sweep swiftly in a semicircle, surprising the
Woongas from the front or side instead of approaching from the rear.
Again he was taxed to his utmost to keep pace with the avenging Mukoki.
Less than ten minutes later the Indian peered cautiously from behind a
clump of hazel, and then looked back at Rod, a smile of satisfaction on
his face.

"They come," he breathed, just loud enough to hear. "They come!"

Rod peered over his shoulder, and his heart smote mightily within him.
Unconscious of their peril the Woongas were approaching two hundred
yards away. Mukoki gazed into his companion's face and his eyes were
almost pleading as he laid a bronzed crinkled hand upon the white boy's
arm.

"You take front man--ahead of Wabi," he whispered. "I take other t'ree.
See that tree--heem birch, with bark off? Shoot heem there. You no
tremble? You no miss?"

"No," replied Rod. He gripped the red hand in his own. "I'll kill,
Mukoki. I'll kill him dead--in one shot!"

They could hear the voices of the outlaws now, and soon they saw that
Wabi's face was disfigured with blood.

Step by step, slowly and carelessly, the Woongas approached. They were
fifty yards from the marked birch now--forty--thirty--now only ten.
Roderick's rifle was at his shoulder. Already it held a deadly bead on
the breast of the leader.

Five yards more--

The outlaw passed behind the tree; he came out, and the young hunter
pressed the trigger. The leader stopped in his snow-shoes. Even before
he had crumpled down into a lifeless heap in the snow a furious volley
of shots spat forth from Mukoki's gun, and when Rod swung his own rifle
to join again in the fray he found that only one o