Rod was hardly conscious of what passed during the next half-hour. The
excitement of the sudden entrance of Minnetaki's brother and the old
Indian set his head reeling, and he sank back upon the blankets, from
which he had partly raised himself, fainting and weak. The last that
he heard was Minnetaki's warning voice, and then he felt something
cool upon his face. It seemed a long time before he heard sound again,
and when he stirred himself, struggling toward consciousness, there
came a whisper in his ear urging him to be quiet. It was Minnetaki,
and he obeyed.

After a little he heard low voices, and then movement, and opened his
eyes. He could feel Minnetaki's gentle hand stroking his face and
hair, as if weaning him to sleep, and at his feet he saw Mukoki, the
old warrior, crouching like a lynx, his beady eyes glaring at him. The
glare fascinated Roderick. He had seen it in Mukoki's eyes before,
when the Indian believed that injury had come to those he loved; and
when the white boy saw it now, bent upon himself, he knew that he,
too, had become more than a friend to this savage pathfinder of the
wilderness. Minnetaki's caressing hand and the fearful anxiety in the
crouching posture of the old hunter thrilled him, and two words fell
from his lips before they knew that he had come back into life.

"Hello, Muky!"

Instantly the old Indian was at his side, kneeling there silent,
trembling, his face twitching with joy, his eyes gleaming, and where
he had crouched a moment before there came Wabigoon, smiling down upon
Rod in his own bursting happiness, which was only held in check by
Minnetaki's hand and the almost inaudible "Sh-h-h-h!" that fell from