“She little fall,” went on Mukoki, brightening as the odor of coffee and meat filled his nostrils.  “No bigger than—­that!” He pointed to the roof of the cabin.

Rod was figuring on the table.  Soon he looked up.

“According to Mukoki and the map we are at least two hundred and fifty miles from the third fall,” he said.

Mukoki shrugged his shoulders and his face was crinkled in a suggestive grimace.

“Hudson Bay,” he grunted.

Wabi turned from his steak in sudden astonishment.

“Doesn’t the chasm continue east?” he almost shouted.

“No.  She turn—­straight north.”

Rod could not understand the change that came over Wabi’s face.

“Boys,” he said finally, “if that is the case I can tell you where the gold is.  If the stream in the chasm turns northward it is bound for just one place—­the Albany River, and the Albany River empties into James Bay!  The third waterfall, where our treasure in gold is waiting for us, is in the very heart of the wildest and most savage wilderness in North America.  It is safe.  No other man has ever found it.  But to get it means one of the longest and most adventurous expeditions we ever planned in all our lives!”

“Hurrah!” shouted Rod.  “Hurrah—­”

He had leaped to his feet, forgetful of everything but that their gold was safe, and that their search for it would lead them even to the last fastnesses of the snow-bound and romantic North.

“Next spring, Wabi!” He held out his hand and the two boys joined their pledge in a hearty grip.

“Next spring!” reiterated Wabi.

“And we go in canoe,” joined Mukoki.  “Creek grow bigger.  We make birch-bark canoe at first fall.”

“That is better still,” added Wabi.  “It will be a glorious trip!  We’ll take a little vacation at the third fall and run up to James Bay.”

“James Bay is practically the same as Hudson Bay, isn’t it?” asked Rod.

“Yes.  I could never see a good reason for calling it James Bay.  It is in reality the lower end, or tail, of Hudson Bay.”

There was no thought of visiting any of the traps that day, and the next morning Mukoki insisted upon going with Rod, in spite of his four days of hard travel.  If he remained in camp his joints would get stiff, he said, and Wabigoon thought he was right.  This left the young Indian to care for the trap-line leading into the north.

Two weeks of ideal trapping weather now followed.  It had been more than two months since the hunters had left Wabinosh House, and Rod now began to count the days before they would turn back over the homeward trail.  Wabi had estimated that they had sixteen hundred dollars’ worth of furs and scalps and two hundred dollars in gold, and the white youth was satisfied to return to his mother with his share of six hundred dollars, which was as much as he would have earned in a year at his old position in the city.