had spoken no word. A feeling of gloom was on them all; without
questioning, each knew what the fears of the others were.

Was it possible that, after all, they had not solved the secret of the
mysterious map?

The more Rod thought of it the more his fears possessed him. The
two men who fought and died in the old cabin were on their way to
civilization. They were taking gold with them, gold which they meant
to exchange for supplies. Would they, at the same time, dare to have
in their possession a map so closely defining their trail as the rude
sketch on the bit of birch bark? Was there not some strange key, known
only to themselves, necessary to the understanding of that sketch?

Mukoki had taken his rifle and disappeared in the plain along the
river, and for a long time after they had eaten their bear steak and
drank their hot coffee Rod and Wabigoon sat talking in the glow of
the camp-fire. The old warrior had been gone for about an hour when
suddenly there came the report of a gun from far down the stream,
which was quickly followed by two others--three in rapid succession.
After an interval of a few seconds there sounded two other shots.

"The signal!" cried Rod. "Mukoki wants us!"

Wabigoon sprang to his feet and emptied the five shots of his magazine
into the air.

"Listen!"

Hardly had the echoes died away when there came again the reports of