There came over him then a strange dizziness, a weakness in his limbs.  He was conscious that his head was sinking, and he knew, too, that a pair of arms was about him, and that from what seemed to be a great, great distance a voice was calling to him, calling his name.  And then he seemed to be sinking into a deep and painless sleep.

When he regained consciousness his eyes were first turned to the door, which was still open, and through which he caught the white gleam of the snow.  A hand was pressed gently upon his face.

“Rod—­”

Minnetaki spoke in a whisper, a whisper that trembled with gladness, with relief.  Rod smiled.  Weakly he lifted a hand and touched the sweet, white face above him.

“I’m glad to see you—­Minnetaki—­” he breathed.

The girl quickly put a cup of cold water to his lips.

“You mustn’t try to move,” she said softly, her eyes glowing.  “It isn’t a very bad wound, and I’ve dressed it nicely.  But you mustn’t move—­or talk—­or it may begin bleeding again.”

“But I’m so glad to see you, Minnetaki,” persisted the youth.  “You don’t know how disappointed I was to find you gone when we returned to Wabinosh House from our hunting trip.  Wabi and Mukoki—­”

“Sh-h-h-h!”

Minnetaki placed her hand upon his lips.

“You must keep quiet, Roderick.  Don’t you know how curious I am to know how you are here?  But you must not tell me—­now.  Let me do the talking.  Will you?  Please!”

Involuntarily the young girl’s eyes left his face, and Rod, weakly following her gaze, saw that a blanket had been spread over a huddled heap in the middle of the floor.  He shuddered, and feeling the sudden tremor in his hand Minnetaki turned to him quickly, her cheeks whiter than before, but her eyes shining like stars.

“It is Woonga,” she whispered.  In her voice was a thrilling tremble.  “It is Woonga, and he is dead!”

Rod understood the look in her face now.  Woonga, the Nemesis of her people, the outlaw chief who had sworn vengeance on the house of Wabinosh, and whose murderous hand had hovered for years like a threatening cloud over the heads of the factor and his wife and children, was dead!  And he, Roderick Drew, who once before had saved Minnetaki’s life, had killed him.  In his weakness and pain he smiled, and said,

“I am glad, Minne—­”

He did not finish.  There had come a stealthy, crumbling step to the door, and in another moment Mukoki and Wabigoon were in the little cabin.

CHAPTER VI

THE SHADOW OF DEATH

Rod was hardly conscious of what passed during the next half-hour.  The excitement of the sudden entrance of Minnetaki’s brother and the old Indian set his head reeling, and he sank back upon the blankets, from which he had partly raised himself, fainting and weak.  The last that he heard was Minnetaki’s warning voice, and then he felt something cool upon his face.  It seemed a long time before he heard sound again, and when he stirred himself, struggling toward consciousness, there came a whisper in his ear urging him to be quiet.  It was Minnetaki, and he obeyed.