med to rob the life from the muscles of his
limbs, and each step now added to his weakness. And the chasm was a mile
beyond the dip, and the entrance into that chasm still two miles
farther. Three miles! Could he hold out?

He heard Mukoki thumping along behind him; ahead of him Wabi was
unconsciously widening the distance between them. He made a powerful
effort to close the breach, but it was futile. Then from close in his
rear there came a warning halloo from the old Indian, and Wabi turned.

"He run t'ree mile to burning cabin," said Mukoki. "He no make chasm!"

Rod was deathly white and breathing so hard that he could not speak. The
quick-witted Wabi at once realized their situation.

"There is just one thing for us to do, Muky. We must stop the Woongas at
the dip. We'll fire down upon them from the top of the hill beyond the
lake. We can drop three or four of them and they won't dare to come
straight after us then. They will think we are going to fight them from
there and will take time to sneak around us. Meanwhile we'll get a good
lead in the direction of the chasm."

He led off again, this time a little slower. Three minutes later they
entered into the dip, crossed it safely, and were already at the foot of
the hill, when from the opposite side of the hollow there came a
triumphant blood-curdling yell.

"Hurry!" shouted Wabi. "They see us!" Even as he spoke there came the
crack of a rifle.

Bzzzzzzz-inggggg!

For the first time in his life Rod heard that terrible death-song of a
bullet close to his head and saw the snow fly up a dozen feet beyond the
young Indian.

For an interval of twenty seconds there was silence; then there came
another shot, and after that three others in quick succession. Wabi
stumbled.

"Not hit!" he called, scrambling to his feet. "Confound--that rock!"

He rose to the hilltop with Rod close behind him, and from the opposite
side of the lake there came a fusillade of half a dozen shots.
Instinctively Rod dropped upon his face. And in that instant, as he lay
in the snow, he heard the sickening thud of a bullet and a sharp sudden
cry of pain from Mukoki. But the old warrior came up beside him and they
passed into the shelter of the hilltop together.

"Is it bad? Is it bad, Mukoki? Is it bad--" Wabi was almost sobbing as
he turned and threw an arm around the old Indian. "Are you hit--bad?"

Mukoki staggered, but caught himself.

"In here," he said, putting a hand to his lef