Immediately Mukoki told of his own experience and of the mysterious haste of the three Indians who had slain the doe.
“It is certainly curious,” rejoined the young Indian. “They couldn't have been the ones we met, but I'll wager they belong to the same gang. I wouldn't be surprised if we had hit upon one of Woonga's retreats. We've always thought he was in the Thunder Bay regions to the west, and that is where father is watching for him now. We've hit the hornets' nest, Muky, and the only thing for us to do is to get out of this country as fast as we can!”
“We'd make a nice pot-shot just at this moment,” volunteered Rod, looking across to the dense blackness on the opposite side of the river, where the moonlight seemed to make even more impenetrable the wall of gloom.
As he spoke there came a slight sound from behind him, the commotion of a body moving softly beyond the wall of spruce boughs, then a curious, suspicious sniffing, and after that a low whine.
“Listen!”
Wabi's command came in a tense whisper. He leaned close against the boughs, stealthily parted them, and slowly thrust his head through the aperture.
“Hello, Wolf!” he whispered. “What's up?”
An arm's length away, tied before a smaller shelter of spruce, a gaunt, dog-like animal stood in a rigid listening attitude. An instant's glance, however, would have assured one that it was not a dog, but a full-grown wolf. From the days of its puppyhood Wabi had taught it in the ways of dogdom, yet had the animal perversely clung to its wild instincts. A weakness in that thong, a slip of the collar, and Wolf would have bounded joyously into the forests to seek for ever the packs of his fathers. Now the babeesh rope was taut, Wolf's muzzle was turned half to the sky, his ears were alert, half-sounding notes rattled in his throat.
“There is something near our camp!” announced the Indian boy, drawing himself back quickly. “Muky—”
He was interrupted by a long mournful howl from the captive wolf.
Mukoki had jumped to his feet with the alertness of a cat, and now with his gun in his hand slunk around the edge of the shelter and buried himself in the gloom. Roderick lay quiet while Wabi, seizing the remaining rifle, followed him.
“Lie over there in the dark, Rod, where the firelight doesn't show you up,” he cautioned in a low voice. “Probably it is only some animal that has stumbled on to our camp, but we want to make sure.”
Ten minutes later the young hunter returned alone.
“False alarm!” he laughed cheerfully. “There's a part of a carcass of a red deer up the creek a bit. It has been killed by wolves, and Wolf smells some of his own blood coming in to the feast. Muky has set traps there and we may have our first scalp in the morning.”
“Where is Mukoki?”
“On watch. He is going to keep guard until a little after midnight, and then I'll turn out. We can't be too careful, with the Woongas in the neighborhood.”
Rod shifted himself uneasily.
“What shall we do—to-morrow?” he asked.
“Get out!” replied Wabi with emphasis. “That is, if you are able to travel.