eyes, the terrible thinness of the Indian youth's face, the chilling
lifelessness of his hands, made him shiver with dread. Was it
possible that a few short hours could bring about that remarkable
transformation? And where was Mukoki, the faithful old warrior from
whose guardianship Wabigoon and Minnetaki were seldom allowed to
escape?

It seemed an hour before Wabi opened his eyes again, and yet it was
only a few minutes. This time Rod lifted him gently in his arms and
the courier placed a cup of the hot soup to his lips. The warmth of
the liquid put new life into the famished Indian youth. He drank
slowly of it at first, then eagerly, and when he had finished the cup
he made an effort to sit up.

"I'll take another," he said faintly. "It's mighty good!"

He drank the second cup with even greater relish. Then he sat bolt
upright, stretched out his arms, and with his companion's assistance
staggered to his feet. His bloodshot eyes burned with a strange
excitement as he looked at Rod.

"I was afraid--I wouldn't--catch you!"

"What is it, Wabi? What has happened? You say--Minnetaki--"

"Has been captured by the Woongas. Chief Woonga himself is her captor,
and they are taking her into the North. Rod, only you can save her!"

"Only--I--can--save--her?" gasped Rod slowly. "What do you mean?"