In the center of the flat stone there was a gleaming yellow film.  A single glance told the story.  With the round stone for a hammer the mad hunter had pounded his golden bullets into shape upon the flat stone!  There was no longer a doubt in their minds; they were in the madman’s camp.  That morning they had left this strange creature of the wilderness fifty miles away.  But how far away was he now?  The fire slumbering under its covering of ash and earth proved that he meant to return—­and soon.  Would he travel by night as well as by day?  Was it possible that he was already close behind them?

“He travels with the swiftness of an animal,” said Wabi, speaking in a low voice to Rod.  “Perhaps he will return to-night!”

Mukoki overheard him and shook his head.

“Mak’ heem through chasm in two day on snow-shoe,” he declared, referring to his trip of exploration to the first waterfall over the snows of the previous winter.  “No mak’ in t’ree day over rock!”

“If Mukoki is satisfied, I am,” said Rod.  “We can pull up behind the driftwood on the farther edge of the lake bed.”

Wabi made no objection, and the camp site was chosen.  Strangely enough, with the discovery of the footprints, the fire, the picked bones and the stones with which the mad hunter had manufactured his golden bullets, Mukoki seemed to have lost all fear of the wild creature of the chasm.  He was confident now that he had only a man to deal with, a man who had gone “bad dog,” and his curiosity overcame his alarm.  His assurance served to dispel the apprehension of his companions, and sleep came early to the tired adventurers.  Nor did anything occur during the night to awaken them.

Soon after dawn the trip down the chasm stream was resumed.  With the abrupt turning of the channel to the north, however, there was an almost immediate change in the topography of the country.  Within an hour the precipitous walls of the mountains gave place to verdure-covered slopes, and now and then the gold seekers found themselves between plains that swept back for a mile or more on either side.  Frequent signs of game were observed along the shores of the river and several times during the morning moose and caribou were seen in the distance.  A few months before, when they had invaded the wilderness to hunt and trap, this country would have aroused the wildest enthusiasm among Rod and his friends, but now they gave but little thought to their rifles.  That morning they had set out with the intention of reaching the second waterfall before dusk, and it was with disappointment rather than gladness that they saw the swift current of the chasm torrent change into the slower, steadier sweep of a stream that had now widened into a fair-sized river.  According to the map the second fall was about fifty-five miles from the mad hunter’s camp.  Darkness found them still fifteen miles from where it should be.

Excitement kept Rod awake most of that night.  Try as he would, he could not keep visions of the lost treasure out of his mind.  The next day they would be far on their way to the third and last waterfall.  And then—­the gold!  That they might not find it, that the passing of half a century or more might have obliterated all traces left by its ancient discoverers, never for a moment disturbed his belief.