stringy, but to
the famished travellers it meant life, and Shad thought the
half-cooked piece which Mookoomahn doled to him as his share the
sweetest morsel he had ever eaten.

The wolf meat, carefully husbanded, supplied food until one morning
Mookoomahn by a series of signs conveyed the information to Shad that
they were within one day's march of the cache. Then they ate the last
of it, that it might give them strength for the final effort.

It was evening, but not yet dark, when familiar landmarks told Shad
that they were nearing the goal, and a little later they halted where
the poles of Sishetakushin's lodge stood in the edge of the woods
above the lake shore.

With furious haste Shad and Mookoomahn rushed to the cache, but
suddenly stopped, aghast and stupefied. The cache had been rifled of
its contents, and lying near it, half covered with snow, lay the
frozen, emaciated body of an Indian.

XXII

MANIKAWAN'S SACRIFICE

An examination of the surroundings made it plain that a band of
eastern Mountaineer or Mingen Indians, in a starving condition, had
visited the place; that one of them, already too far exhausted to be
revived, had died; that the others, taking the food, had left his body
uncared for and fled.

The disappointment was quite beyond expression. Had they been in good
physical condition, a short three days' travel would now have carried
them to the river tilt and safety. In their present weakened and
starved condition at least twice that time would be consumed in the
journey, and no food remained to help them on their way.

In deep depression Shad assisted Manikawan to stretch the deerskin
covering upon the lodge, while Mookoomahn gathered wood for the fire.
Clumsy with weakness, dizzy with disappointment, Shad reached to
spread the skin, his snowshoes became entangled, he stumbled and fell.
When he attempted to rise he discovered to his dismay that he had
wrenched a knee, and when he attempted to walk he was scarcely able to
hobble into the lodge.

The last bare chance of life fled, the last thread of flickering hope
broken, Shad sank down, little caring for the pain, numb with a
certainty of quickly impending death. He could not keep the pace of
the Indians. He could not travel at all, and he could neither ask nor
expect that they do otherwise than proceed as usual after a period of
rest, and leave him to his fate.

Very early in the morning Shad heard a movement in the lodge, and
r