great tree-trunk had rotted half a century before,
leaving a rich black soil. Clearly traced in this were the imprints of
Minnetaki's moccasins. For a full minute Rod stopped and listened,
making not a sound. Why he maintained silence he could not have
explained. But he knew that he was half a mile from the Post, and that
Wabi's sister should not be here at breakfast time. In this minute's
quiet he unconsciously studied the tracks in the ground. How small the
pretty Indian maiden's feet were! And he noticed, too, that her
moccasins, unlike most moccasins, had a slight heel.

But in a moment more his inspection was cut short. Was that a cry he
heard far ahead? His heart seemed to stop beating, his blood
thrilled--and in another instant he was running down the path like a
deer. Twenty rods beyond this point the path entered an opening in the
forest made by a great fire, and half-way across this opening the youth
saw a sight which chilled him to the marrow. There was Minnetaki, her
long hair tumbling loosely down her back, a cloth tied around her
head--and on either side an Indian dragging her swiftly toward the
opposite forest!

For as long as he might have drawn three breaths Rod stood transfixed
with horror. Then his senses returned to him, and every muscle in his
body seemed to bound with action. For days he had been practising with
his revolver and it was now in the holster at his side. Should he use
it? Or might he hit Minnetaki? At his feet he saw a club and snatching
this up he sped across the opening, the soft earth holding the sound of
his steps. When he was a dozen feet behind the Indians Minnetaki
stumbled in a sudden effort to free herself, and as one of her captors
half turned to drag her to her feet he saw the enraged youth, club
uplifted, bearing down upon them like a demon. A terrific yell from Rod,
a warning cry from the Indian, and the fray began. With crushing force,
the boy's club fell upon the shoulder of the second Indian, and before
he could recover from the delivery of this blow the youth was caught in
a choking, deadly grip by the other from behind.

Freed by the sudden attack, Minnetaki tore away the cloth that bound her
eyes and mouth. As quick as a flash she took in the situation. At her
feet the wounded Indian was half rising, and upon the ground near him,
struggling in close embrace, were Rod and the other. She saw the
Indian's fatal grip upon her preserver's throat, the whitening face and