The night passed with tedious slowness, and he was glad when, a little after midnight, Wabi came out to relieve him.  At dawn he was in turn awakened by the young Indian.  Mukoki was already up and had prepared his pack.  Apparently he had regained his old spirits, but both Rod and Wabigoon could see that behind them the fear of the preceding night still haunted him.  That morning he did not set off ahead of the two boys with his pack but walked beside them, stopping to rest when they lowered their canoe, his eyes never ceasing their sharp scrutiny of the plain and distant ridges.  Once when Mukoki mounted a big rock to look about him, Wabi whispered,

“I tell you it’s strange, Rod—­mighty strange!”

An hour later the old warrior halted and threw off his load.  The three had approached within a quarter of a mile of the dip in the mountain.

“Leave canoe here,” he said.  “Go lak fox to old camp.  Mebbe see!”

He took the lead now, followed closely by the boys.  The safety of the old pathfinder’s rifle was down, and following his example Rod and Wabigoon held their own guns in readiness for instant fire.  As they neared the summit of the ridge on which Mukoki’s life had been attempted the suspense of the two young hunters became almost painfully acute.  Mukoki’s actions not only astonished them, but set their blood tingling with his own strange fear.  Many times had Wabigoon seen his faithful comrade in moments of deadly peril but never, even when the Woongas were close upon their trail, had he known him to take them as seriously as he did the ascent of this mountain.  Every few steps Mukoki paused, listening and watchful.  Not the smallest twig broke under his moccasined feet; the movement of the smallest bird, the trembling of a bush, the scurry of a rabbit halted him, rigid, his rifle half to shoulder.  And Rod and Wabigoon soon become filled with this same panic-stricken fear.  What terrible dread was it that filled Mukoki’s soul?  Had he seen something of which he had not told them?  Did he think something which he had not revealed?

Foot by foot the three came to the top of the ridge.  There Mukoki straightened himself, and stood erect.  There were no signs of a living creature about them.  Down in the dip nestled the little lake, gleaming in the midday sun.  They could make out the debris of the burned cabin in which they had passed their hunting season, and close to this was the pack which Mukoki had dropped there the night before.  No one had molested it.  Wabi’s face relaxed.  Rod, breathing easier, laughed softly.  What had there been to fear?  He glanced questioningly at Mukoki.

“There rocks, there tree,” said the old warrior, in answer to Rod’s glance, “down there went scream!” He pointed far out across the plain.

Wabi had gone to the tree.

“See here, Rod!” he cried.  “By George, this was a close shave!” He pointed to a tiny hole freshly made in the smooth white surface of the tree as the others came up.  “There—­stand there, Mukoki, back to the tree, as you said you were when the shot was fired.  Great Caesar, that fellow had a dead line on your head—­two inches high!  No wonder it made you think the scream of a lynx was something else!”