Mukoki no longer maintained his usual quiet, and it was evident to Rod that the Indian considered his mission for that day practically accomplished.  After taking the heart, liver and one of the hind quarters of the buck Mukoki drew a long rope of babeesh from his pack, tied one end of it around the animal’s neck, flung the other end over a near limb, and with his companion’s assistance hoisted the carcass until it was clear of the ground.

“If somethin’ happen we no come back to-night heem safe from wolf,” he explained.

The two now continued through the swamp.  At its farther edge the ground rose gently from the creek toward the hills, and this sloping plain was covered with huge boulders and a thin growth of large spruce and birch.  Just beyond the creek was a gigantic rock which immediately caught Mukoki’s attention.  All sides except one were too precipitous for ascent, and even this one could not be climbed without the assistance of a sapling or two.  They could see, however, that the top of the, rock was flat, and Mukoki called attention to this fact with an exultant chuckle.

“Fine place for wolf hunt!” he exclaimed.  “Many wolf off there in swamp an’ in hill.  We call heem here.  Shoot from there!” He pointed to a clump of spruce a dozen rods away.

By Rod’s watch it was now nearly noon and the two sat down to eat the sandwiches they had brought with them.  Only a few minutes were lost in taking up the home trail.  Beyond the swamp Mukoki cut at right angles to their trap-line until he had ascended to the top of the ridge that had been on their right and which would take them very near their camp.  From this ridge Rod could look about him upon a wild and rugged scene.  On one side it sloped down to the plains, but on the other it fell in almost sheer walls, forming at its base five hundred feet below a narrow and gloomy chasm, through which a small stream found its way.  Several times Mukoki stopped and leaned perilously close to the dizzy edge of the mountain, peering down with critical eyes, and once when he pulled himself back cautiously by means of a small sapling he explained his interest by saying: 

“Plenty bear there in spring!”

But Rod was not thinking of bears.  Once more his head was filled with the thought of gold.  Perhaps that very chasm held the priceless secret that had died with its owners half a century ago.  The dark and gloomy silence that hung between those two walls of rock, the death-like desolation, the stealthy windings of the creek—­everything in that dim and mysterious world between the two mountains, unshattered by sound and impenetrable to the winter sun, seemed in his mind to link itself with the tragedy of long ago.

Did that chasm hold the secret of the dead men?

Again and again Rod found himself asking this question as he followed Mukoki, and the oftener he asked it the nearer he seemed to an answer, until at last, with a curious, thrilling certainty that set his blood tingling he caught Mukoki by the arm and pointing back, said: