“And then go on,” added Rod.  “Don’t stop if you hear me fire, but hurry on to the chasm.  I know the way and will join you.  I’m as strong as I ever was now, and can catch up with you easily with Mukoki traveling as slowly as he does.”

During this brief conversation Mukoki had continued his way along the ridge and Wabi hurried to overtake him.  Meanwhile Rod concealed himself behind a rock, from which vantage-point he could see the whole of that part of the valley across which they had come.

He looked at his watch and in tense anxiety counted every minute after that.  He allowed ten minutes for the dressing of Mukoki’s wound.  Every second gained from then on would be priceless.  For a quarter of an hour he kept his eyes with ceaseless vigilance upon their back trail.  Surely the Woongas had secured their snow-shoes by this time!  Was it possible that they had given up the pursuit—­that their terrible experience in the dip had made them afraid of further battle?  Rod answered this question in the negative.  He was sure that the Woongas knew that Wabi was the son of the factor of Wabinosh House.  Therefore they would make every effort to recapture him, even though they had to follow far and a dozen lives were lost before that feat was accomplished.

A movement in the snow across the valley caught Rod’s eyes.  He straightened himself, and his breath came quickly.  Two figures had appeared in the open.  Another followed close behind, and after that there came others, until the waiting youth had counted sixteen.  They were all on snow-shoes, following swiftly over the trail of the fugitives.

The young hunter looked at his watch again.  Twenty-five minutes had passed.  Mukoki and Wabigoon had secured a good start.  If he could only hold the outlaws in the valley for a quarter of an hour more—­just fifteen short minutes—­they would almost have reached the entrance into the chasm.

Alone, with his own life and those of his comrades depending upon him, the boy was cool.  There was no tremble in his hands to destroy the accuracy of his rifle-fire, no blurring excitement or fear in his brain to trouble his judgment of distance and range.  He made up his mind that he would not fire until they had come within four hundred yards.  Between that distance and three hundred he was sure he could drop at least one or two of them.

He measured his range by a jackpine stub, and when two of the Woongas had reached and passed that stub he fired.  He saw the snow thrown up six feet in front of the leader.  He fired again, and again, and one of the shots, a little high, struck the second outlaw.  The leader had darted back to the shelter of the stub and Rod sent another bullet whizzing past his ears.  His fifth he turned into the main body of the pursuers, and then, catching up Wabi’s rifle, he poured a hail of five bullets among them in as many seconds.

The effect was instantaneous.  The outlaws scattered in retreat and Rod saw that a second figure was lying motionless in the snow.  He began to reload his rifles and by the time he had finished the Woongas had separated and were running to the right and the left of him.  For the last time he looked at his watch.  Wabi and Mukoki had been gone thirty-five minutes.