impression of a human hand!

There was no longer a doubt in Roderick's mind. He was on the trail
of Minnetaki's captor, and the outlaw was carrying his victim in his
arms! Minnetaki was injured! Perhaps she was dead. The fear gripped at
his heart until he looked again at the imprint in the snow--the widely
spread fingers, the flat, firm palm. Only a living hand would have
left its mark in that manner.

As on that autumn day in the forest, when he had fought for
Minnetaki's life, so now all hesitation and fear left him. His blood
leaped with anticipation rather than excitement, and he was eager for
the moment when he would once more throw his life in the balance in
behalf of Wabi's sister. He was determined to take advantage of the
Woonga fighting code and fire upon his enemy from ambush if the
opportunity offered, but at the same time he had no dread at the
thought of engaging in a closer struggle if this should be necessary.
He looked well to his rifle, loosened his big army revolver in its
holster, and saw that his hunting-knife did not stick in its scabbard.
A short distance from the cleft in the wall of rock the outlaw had
rested again; and this time, when he continued his flight, Minnetaki
had walked beside him.

A peculiarity in the new trail struck Rod, and for some moments he was
at a loss to account for it. One of the girl's dainty feet left its
moccasin imprint very distinctly; the mark of the other was no more
than a formless blotch in the snow. Then the youth thought of the
footprints that were leading on Mukoki and Wabigoon, and despite his
desperate situation he could not repress a smile. He had been right.
The Woongas had taken off one of Minnetaki's moccasins and were using