Wabigoon's words and the strangeness of his manner put Rod ill at
ease, despite his arguments of a few moments before, and no sooner did
he find himself alone beside the fire than he began to be filled with
an unpleasant premonition of lurking danger. For a time he sat very
still, trying to peer into the shadows beyond the fire and listening
to the sounds that came to him from out of the night. As he watched
and listened his brain worked ceaselessly, conjuring picture after
picture of what that danger might be, and at last he drew out of the
firelight and concealed himself in the deep gloom of the bush. From
here he could see the camp, and at the same time was safe from a
possible rifle shot.

The night passed with tedious slowness, and he was glad when, a little
after midnight, Wabi came out to relieve him. At dawn he was in turn
awakened by the young Indian. Mukoki was already up and had prepared
his pack. Apparently he had regained his old spirits, but both Rod and
Wabigoon could see that behind them the fear of the preceding night
still haunted him. That morning he did not set off ahead of the two
boys with his pack but walked beside them, stopping to rest when they
lowered their canoe, his eyes never ceasing their sharp scrutiny of
the plain and distant ridges. Once when Mukoki mounted a big rock to
look about him, Wabi whispered,

"I tell you it's strange, Rod--mighty strange!"

An hour later the old warrior halted and threw off his load. The three
had approached within a quarter of a mile of the dip in the mountain.

"Leave canoe here," he said. "Go lak fox to old camp. Mebbe see!"