"Remember the big lynx you shot, Rod, and thought it was a Woonga, and
had us all frightened out of our wits?" he cried.

Rod colored at the memory of his funny adventure, which was thrilling
enough at the time, and began assisting Mukoki in unloading the canoe.
Two hours were taken for dinner and rest, and then the young hunters
shouldered their canoe while Mukoki hurried on ahead of them, weighted
with a half of their supplies. Every step now brought the thunder of
the torrent rushing through the mountain more clearly to their ears,
and they had not progressed more than a mile when they were compelled
to shout to make each other hear. On their right the wall of the
mountain closed in rapidly, and as they stumbled with their burden
over a mass of huge boulders the two boys saw just ahead of them the
narrow trail at the edge of the precipice.

At its beginning they rested their canoe. On one side of them, a dozen
yards away, the face of the mountain rose sheer above them for a
thousand feet; on the other, scarce that distance from where they
stood, was the roaring chasm. And ahead of them the mountain wall and
the edge of the precipice came nearer and nearer, until there was no
more than a six-foot ledge to walk upon. Rod's face turned strangely
white as he realized, for the first time, the terrible chances they
had taken on that black, eventful night of a few months ago; and for a
time Wabi stood silent, his face as hard-set as a rock. Up out of the
chasm there came a deafening thunder of raging waters, like the
hollow explosions of great guns echoing and reëchoing in subterranean
caverns.

"Let's take a look!" shouted Wabi close up to his companion's ear.