An arm’s length away, tied before a smaller shelter of spruce, a gaunt, dog-like animal stood in a rigid listening attitude.  An instant’s glance, however, would have assured one that it was not a dog, but a full-grown wolf.  From the days of its puppyhood Wabi had taught it in the ways of dogdom, yet had the animal perversely clung to its wild instincts.  A weakness in that thong, a slip of the collar, and Wolf would have bounded joyously into the forests to seek for ever the packs of his fathers.  Now the babeesh rope was taut, Wolf’s muzzle was turned half to the sky, his ears were alert, half-sounding notes rattled in his throat.

“There is something near our camp!” announced the Indian boy, drawing himself back quickly.  “Muky—­”

He was interrupted by a long mournful howl from the captive wolf.

Mukoki had jumped to his feet with the alertness of a cat, and now with his gun in his hand slunk around the edge of the shelter and buried himself in the gloom.  Roderick lay quiet while Wabi, seizing the remaining rifle, followed him.

“Lie over there in the dark, Rod, where the firelight doesn’t show you up,” he cautioned in a low voice.  “Probably it is only some animal that has stumbled on to our camp, but we want to make sure.”

Ten minutes later the young hunter returned alone.

“False alarm!” he laughed cheerfully.  “There’s a part of a carcass of a red deer up the creek a bit.  It has been killed by wolves, and Wolf smells some of his own blood coming in to the feast.  Muky has set traps there and we may have our first scalp in the morning.”

“Where is Mukoki?”

“On watch.  He is going to keep guard until a little after midnight, and then I’ll turn out.  We can’t be too careful, with the Woongas in the neighborhood.”

Rod shifted himself uneasily.

“What shall we do—­to-morrow?” he asked.

“Get out!” replied Wabi with emphasis.  “That is, if you are able to travel.  From what Mukoki tells me, and from what you and I already know, Woonga’s people must be in the forests beyond the lake.  We’ll cut a trail up the Ombabika for two or three days before we strike camp.  You and Muky can start out as soon as it is light enough.”

“And you—­” began Rod.

“Oh, I’m going to take a run back over our old wolf-trail and collect the scalps we shot to-day.  There’s a month’s salary back there for you, Rod!  Now, let’s turn in.  Good night—­sleep tight—­and be sure to wake up early in the morning.”

The boys, exhausted by the adventures of the day, were soon in profound slumber.  And though midnight came, and hour after hour passed between then and dawn, the faithful Mukoki did not awaken them.  Never for a moment neglecting his caution the old Indian watched tirelessly over the camp.  With the first appearance of day he urged the fire into a roaring blaze, raked out a great mass of glowing coals, and proceeded to get breakfast.  Wabi discovered him at this task when he awoke from his slumber.