The Gold Hunters | Page 6

chasm we fled to the south, and that the next day, while you were
away from camp hunting for some animal that would give us fat for
Mukoki's wound, you discovered a trail. You told us that you followed
the sledge tracks, and that after a time the party had been met by others
on snow-shoes, and that among the imprints in the snow was one that
made you think of Minnetaki. When we reached the Post we learned
that Minnetaki and two sledges had gone to Kenegami House and at
once concluded that those snow-shoe trails were made by Kenegami
people sent out to meet her. But they were not! They were made by
Woongas!
"One of the guides, who escaped with a severe wound, brought the
news to us last night, and the doctor at the Post says that his hurt is fatal

and that he will not live another day. Everything depends on you. You
and the dying guide are the only two who know where to find the place
where the attack was made. It has been thawing for two days and the
trail may be obliterated. But you saw Minnetaki's footprints. You saw
the snow-shoe trails. You--and you alone--know which way they
went!"
Wabi spoke rapidly, excitedly, and then sank down on the sledge,
weakened by his exertion.
"We have been chasing you with two teams since dawn," he added,
"and pretty nearly killed the dogs. As a last chance we doubled up the
teams and I came on alone. I left Mukoki a dozen miles back on the
trail."
Rod's blood had turned cold with horror at the knowledge that
Minnetaki was in the clutches of Woonga himself. The terrible change
in Wabi was no longer a mystery. Both Minnetaki and her brother had
told him more than once of the relentless feud waged against Wabinosh
House by this bloodthirsty savage and during the last winter he had
come into personal contact with it. He had fought, had seen people die,
and had almost fallen a victim to Woonga's vengeance.
But it was not of these things that he thought just now. It was of the
reason for the feud, and something rose in his throat and choked him
until he made no effort to speak. Many years before, George Newsome,
a young Englishman, had come to Wabinosh House, and there he had
met and fallen in love with a beautiful Indian princess, who loved him
in turn, and became his wife. Woonga, chief of a warlike tribe, had
been his rival, and when the white man won in the battle for love his
fierce heart blazed with the fire of hatred and revenge. From that day
the relentless strife against the people of Wabinosh House began. The
followers of Woonga turned from trappers and hunters to murderers
and outlaws, and became known all over that wilderness country as the
Woongas. For years the feud had continued. Like a hawk Woonga
watched his opportunities, killing here, robbing there, and always
waiting a chance to rob the factor of his wife or children. Only a few
weeks before Rod had saved Minnetaki in that terrible struggle in the

forest. And now, more hopelessly than before, she had fallen into the
clutches of her enemies, and alone with Woonga was being carried into
the far North country, into those vast unexplored regions from which
she would probably never return!
Rod turned to Wabi, his hands clenched, his eyes blazing.
"I can find the trail, Wabi! I can find the trail--and we'll follow it to the
North Pole if we have to! We beat the Woongas in the chasm--we'll
beat them now! We'll find Minnetaki if it takes us until doomsday!"
From far back in the forest there came the faint pistol-like cracks of a
whip, the distant hallooing of a voice.
For a few moments the three stood listening.
The voice came again.
"It's Mukoki," said Wabigoon, "Mukoki and the other dogs!"
CHAPTER III
ON THE TRAIL OF THE WOONGAS
The cries came nearer, interspersed with the cracking of Mukoki's whip
as he urged on the few lagging dogs that Wabi had left with him upon
the trail. In another moment the old warrior and his team burst into
view and both of the young hunters hurried to meet him. A glance
showed Rod that a little longer and Mukoki would have dropped in his
tracks, as Wabi had done. The two led their faithful comrade to the
heap of bearskins on the mail sled and made him sit there while fresh
soup was being made.
"You catch heem," grinned Mukoki joyously. "You catch
heem--queek!"
"And pretty nearly killed himself doing it, Muky," added Rod. "Now--"
he glanced from one to the other of his companions, "what is