glance, "down there went scream!" He pointed far out across the plain.

Wabi had gone to the tree.

"See here, Rod!" he cried. "By George, this was a close shave!" He
pointed to a tiny hole freshly made in the smooth white surface of the
tree as the others came up. "There--stand there, Mukoki, back to the
tree, as you said you were when the shot was fired. Great Caesar, that
fellow had a dead line on your head--two inches high! No wonder it
made you think the scream of a lynx was something else!"

"No lynx," said Mukoki, his face darkening.

"Shame on you, Muky!" laughed Wabigoon. "Don't get angry. I won't say
it again if it makes you mad."

Rod had drawn his hunting-knife and was prodding the point of it in
the bullet hole.

"I can feel the ball," he said. "It's not in more than an inch."

"That's curious," exclaimed Wabigoon, coming close beside him. "It
ought to be half-way through the tree at least! Eh, Muky? I don't
believe it would have hurt--"

He stopped. Rod had turned with a sudden excited cry. He held out his
knife, tip upward, and pointed to it with the index finger of his free
hand. Wabi's eyes fell on the tip of the blade. Mukoki stared. For a
full half minute the three stood in speechless amazement. Clinging to
the knife tip was a tiny fleck of yellow, gleaming lustrously in the