end of their canoe journey up the stream Mukoki silently shouldered
his pack and set out over the plain. He spoke no word, made no sign.

"It would be useless," said Wabigoon, as Rod made a movement as if to
follow and stop their comrade. "No persuasion could turn Mukoki now.
He wants to reach the old camp to-night, where Wolf disappeared. He
won't be back until morning."

And Mukoki went on, never for an instant turning his face, until his
companions lost sight of him. But once out of their vision his, manner
took on a strange and sudden change. He lowered the head strap of his
pack over his breast, so that he might clutch at it with one hand, and
move his head freely. His eyes glowed with the dull fire of wakening
excitement; his steps were quick, and yet cautious, every movement in
his advance was one of listening and watchful expectancy. A person
watching the old warrior would have said that he was keenly on the
alert for game, or danger. And yet the safety of his rifle was locked,
a fresh trail of bear aroused no new interest in him, and when he
heard a crashing in the brush on his right, where a buck had got wind
of him, he gave but a single glance in its direction. He was not
seeking game. Nor were his fears aroused by suspicion of possible
danger. Wherever the ground was soft and moist he traveled slowly,
with his eyes on the earth, and at one of these spots he came to a
sudden pause. Before him were the clearly defined imprints of a wolf's
feet.

With a low cry Mukoki threw off his pack and fell upon his knees. His
eyes burned fiercely now. There was something of madness in the way in
which he groveled in the soft earth, creeping from one footprint to
the next ahead of it, and stopping always where the right forefoot