An hour passed and still Rod sat by the fire; his rifle lying across his knees.  His imagination had painted a thousand pictures in that time.  Never for an instant had his mind ceased to work.  Somewhere in that great wilderness there was another camp-fire that night, and in that camp Minnetaki was a captive.  Some indefinable sensation seemed to creep into him, telling him that she was awake, and that she was thinking of her friends.  Was it a touch of sleep, or that wonderful thing called mental telepathy, that wrought the next picture in his brain?  It came with startling vividness.  He saw the girl beside a fire.  Her beautiful hair, glistening black in the firelight, hung in a heavy braid over her shoulder; her eyes were staring wildly into the flames, as if she were about to leap into them, and back of her so close that he might have touched her, was a figure that sent a chill of horror through him.  It was Woonga, the outlaw chief!  He was talking, his red face was fiendish, he stretched out a hand!

With a cry that startled the dogs Rod sprang to his feet.  He was shivering as if in a chill.  Had he dreamed?  Or was it something more than a dream?  He thought of the vision that had come to him weeks before in the mysterious chasm, the vision of the dancing skeletons, and which had revealed the secret of the old cabin and the lost gold.  In vain he tried to shake off his nervousness and his fear.  Why had Woonga reached out his hands for Minnetaki?  He worked to free himself of the weight that had fallen on him, stirred the fire until clouds of sparks shot high up into the gloom of the trees, and added new fuel.

Then he sat down again, and for the twentieth time since leaving Wabinosh House drew from his pocket the map that was to have led them on their search for gold when he returned with his mother.  It was a vision that had guided him to the discovery of this precious map, and the knowledge of it made him more uneasy now.  A few moments before he had seen Minnetaki as plainly as though she had been with him there beside the fire; he fancied that he might almost have sent a bullet through the Indian’s chief face as he reached out his long arms toward the girl.

He stirred the fire again, awakened one of the dogs to keep him company, and then went in to lie down between Mukoki and Wabigoon in an attempt at slumber.  During the hours that followed he secured only short snatches of sleep.  He dreamed, dreamed constantly of Minnetaki whenever he lost consciousness.  Now he saw her before the fire, as he had seen her in his vision; again, she was struggling in the Woonga’s powerful grasp.  At one time the strife between the two—­the young girl and the powerful savage—­became terrible for him to behold, and at last he saw the Indian catch her in his arms and disappear into the blackness of the forest.

This time when he wakened Rod made no further effort to sleep.  It was only a little past midnight.  His companions had obtained four hours of rest.  In another hour he would arouse them.  Quietly he began making preparations for breakfast, and fed the dogs.  At half-past one o’clock he shook Wabigoon by the shoulder.