Minnetaki had rambled together in the forest, the furious battle
in which, single-handed, he had saved her from those fierce outlaw
Indians of the North, the Woongas; and after that he thought of
the weeks of thrilling adventure they three--Mukoki, Wabigoon and
himself--had spent in the wilderness far from the Hudson Bay Post, of
their months of trapping, their desperate war with the Woongas, the
discovery of the century-old cabin and its ancient skeletons, and
their finding of the birch-bark map between the bones of one of the
skeleton's fingers, on which, dimmed by age, was drawn the trail to a
land of gold.

Instinctively, as for an instant this map came into his mental
picture, he thrust a hand into one of his inside pockets to feel that
his own copy of that map was there, the map which was to have brought
him back into this wilderness a few weeks hence, when they three would
set out on the romantic quest for the gold to which the skeletons in
the old cabin had given them the key.

The vision left him as he saw a convulsive shudder pass through
Wabigoon. In another moment the Indian youth had opened his eyes, and
as he looked up into Rod's eager face he smiled feebly. He tried to
speak, but words failed him, and his eyes closed again. There was a
look of terror in Roderick's face as he turned to the courier, who
came to his side. Less than twenty-four hours before he had left
Wabigoon in the full strength of his splendid youth at Wabinosh House,
a lithe young giant, hardened by their months of adventure, quivering
with buoyant life, anxious for the spring that they might meet again
to take up another trail into the unexplored North.

And now what a change! The glimpse he had caught of Wabi's bloodshot