“They’re up there,” grinned Wabi, lowering his gun.  “That was an accident, but you’d better keep your eyes open.  I’ll bet the whole tribe feel like murdering the fellow who rolled over that stone!”

He crept cautiously back to Mukoki, and Rod crouched with his face to the narrow trail leading down from the top of the mountain.  Deep shadows were beginning to lurk among the trees and he was determined that any movement there would draw his fire.  Fifteen minutes later Wabi returned, eating ravenously at a big hind quarter of broiled rabbit.

“I’ve had my coffee,” he greeted.  “Go back and eat and drink, and build the fire up high.  Don’t mind me when I shoot.  I am going to fire just to let the Woongas know we are on guard, and after that we’ll hustle for that break in the mountain.”

Rod found Mukoki with a chunk of rabbit in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other.  The wounded Indian smiled with something like the old light in his eyes and a mighty load was lifted from Rod’s heart.

“You’re better?” he asked.

“Fine!” replied Mukoki.  “No much hurt.  Good fight some more.  Wabi say, ‘No, you stay.’” His face became a map of grimaces to show his disapproval of Wabi’s command.

Rod helped himself to the meat and coffee.  He was hungry, but after he was done there remained some of the rabbit and a biscuit and these he placed in his pack for further use.  Soon after this there came two shots from the rock and before the echoes had died away down the chasm Wabi approached through the gathering gloom.

It was easy for the hunters to steal along the concealment of the mountain wall, and even if there had been prying eyes on the opposite ridge they could not have penetrated the thickening darkness in the bottom of the gulch.  For some time the flight was continued with extreme caution, no sound being made to arouse the suspicion of any outlaw who might be patrolling the edge of the precipice.  At the end of half an hour Mukoki, who was in the lead that he might set a pace according to his strength, quickened his steps.  Rod was close beside him now, his eyes ceaselessly searching the chasm wall for signs that would tell him when they were nearing the rift.  Suddenly Wabi halted in his tracks and gave a low hiss that stopped them.

“It’s snowing!” he whispered.

Mukoki lifted his face.  Great solitary flakes of snow fell upon it.

“She snow hard—­soon.  Mebby cover snow-shoe trails!”

“And if it does—­we’re safe!” There was a vibrant joy in Wabi’s voice.

For a full minute Mukoki held his face to the sky.

“Hear small wind over chasm,” he said.

“She come from south.  She snow hard—­now—­up there!”

They went on, stirred by new hope.  Rod could feel that the flakes were coming thicker.  The three now kept close to the chasm wall in their search for the rift.  How changed all things were at night!  Rod’s heart throbbed now with hope, now with doubt, now with actual fear.  Was it possible that he could not find it?  Had they passed it among some of the black shadows behind?  He saw no rock that he recognized, no overhanging crag, no sign to guide him.  He stopped, and his voice betrayed his uneasiness as he asked: