a hundred paces when Mukoki, who was in the lead, stopped short with
a huge grunt. Squarely across the trail lay the body of a dead man. A
glance at the upturned face showed that it was one of the two drivers
from Wabinosh House.

"Head split," said Mukoki, as he led the team around the body. "Shot,
mebby--then killed with ax."

The dogs sniffed and cringed as they passed the slain man, and Rod
shuddered. Involuntarily he thought of what might have happened to
Minnetaki, and he noticed that after passing this spectacle of death
Mukoki doubled his speed. For an hour the pursuit continued without
interruption. The Woongas were traveling in a narrow trail, single
file, with the two sledges between their number. At the end of that
hour the three came upon the remains of another camp-fire near which
were built two cedar-bough shelters. Here the tracks in the snow were
much fresher; in places they seemed to have been but lately made.
Still there were no evidences of the captured girl. The boys could see
that Mukoki himself had found no explanation for the sudden freshness
of the trail and for the absence of Minnetaki's footprints among the
tracks. Again and again the shrewd old pathfinder went over the camp.
Not a sign escaped his eyes, not a mark or a broken stick but that was
examined by him. Rod knew that Minnetaki's capture must have occurred
at least three days before, and yet the tracks about this camp were
not more than a day old, if they were that. What did it mean?

The very mystery of the thing filled him with a nameless fear. Why had
not the outlaw Woongas continued their flight? Why this delay so near
the scene of their crime? He glanced at Wabi, but the Indian youth was
as bewildered as himself. In his eyes, too, there was the gleam of a