Suddenly, as in their hopeless search for some familiar object Rod’s eyes traveled again over the endless waste of snow, he saw, far away, something that glittered in the morning sun like a pane of glass, and from his lips there fell a low exultant cry.  He remembered now that he had seen that strange gleam before, that he had gone straight to it from the ridge and had found it to be a sheet of crystal ice frozen to the side of a rock from above which the water of a spring gushed forth.  Without waiting for his companions he hurried down the ridge and sped like a deer across the narrow plain at its foot.  A five-minute run brought him to the rock, and for a moment he paused, his heart almost choking him in its excitement.  Just beyond this he had first encountered the strange trail.  There were no signs of it left in the snow, but he saw other things which led him on:  a huge rock thrusting itself out of the chaos of white, a dead poplar which stood in his path, and at last, half a mile ahead, the edge of a dense forest.

He turned and waved his arms wildly to Mukoki and Wabigoon, who were far behind.  Then he ran on, and when he reached the forest he waved his arms again, and his joy was flung back in a thrilling shout to his comrades.  There was the log on which Minnetaki had been forced to sit while awaiting the pleasure of her savage captors; he found the very spot where her footprint had been in the snow, close to a protruding stub!  The outlaw Indians and their captives had rested here for a brief spell, and had built a fire, and so many feet had beaten the snow about it that their traces still remained.

He pointed to these signs as Mukoki and Wabigoon joined him.

For several minutes no one of the three spoke a word.  Crouched over until his eyes were within a foot of the snow the old pathfinder examined every inch of the little clearing in which the Woongas had built their fire, and when at last he drew himself erect his face betrayed the utmost astonishment.

The boys saw that in those faint marks in the snow he had discovered something of unusual if not startling significance.

“What is it, Muky?” asked the young Indian.

Mukoki made no reply, but returning to the charred remains of the fire he again fell upon his hands and knees and repeated his strange scrutiny of the snow even more closely than before.  When he arose a second time the astonishment had grown deeper in his face.

“Only six!” he exclaimed.  “Two guides from Post—­four Woongas!”

“But the wounded driver told us that there were at least a dozen Woongas in the attacking party,” said Wabi.

The old warrior chuckled, and for a moment his face twisted itself into a ludicrous grimace.

“Driver lie!” he declared.  “He run when fight begin.  Shot in back while heem run!”

He pointed into the cold depths of the forest.

“No sun there!  Follow trail easy!”