Left to his own uninterrupted thoughts, Rod’s mind was once more absorbed in his scheme of exploring the mysterious chasm.  He had noticed during his inspection from the top of the ridge that the winter snows had as yet fallen but little in the gloomy gulch between the mountains, and he was eager to attempt his adventure before other snows came or the fierce blizzards of December filled the chasm with drifts.  Later in the afternoon he brought forth the buckskin bag from a niche in the log wall where it had been concealed, and one after another carefully examined the golden nuggets.  He found, as he had expected, that they were worn to exceeding smoothness, and that every edge had been dulled and rounded.  Rod’s favorite study in school had been a minor branch of geology and mineralogy, and he knew that only running water could work this smoothness.  He was therefore confident that the nuggets had been discovered in or on the edge of a running stream.  And that stream, he was sure, was the one in the chasm.

But Rod’s plans for an early investigation were doomed to disappointment.  Late that day both Mukoki and Wabi returned, the latter with a red fox and another mink, the former with a fisher, which reminded Rod of a dog just growing out of puppyhood, and another story of strange trails that renewed their former apprehensions.  The old Indian had discovered the remnants of the burned jackpine, and about it were the snow-shoe tracks of three Indians.  One of these trails came from the north and two from the west, which led him to believe that the pine had been fired as a signal to call the two.  At the very end of their trap-line, which extended about four miles from camp, a single snow-shoe trail had cut across at right angles, also swinging into the north.

These discoveries necessitated a new arrangement of the plans that had been made the preceding night.  Hereafter, it was agreed, only one trap-line would be visited each day, and by two of the hunters in company, both armed with rifles.  Rod saw that this meant the abandonment of his scheme for exploring the chasm, at least for the present.

Day after day now passed without evidences of new trails, and each day added to the hopes of the adventurers that they were at last to be left alone in the country.  Never had Mukoki or Wabigoon been in a better trapping ground, and every visit to their lines added to their hoard of furs.  If left unmolested it was plainly evident that they would take a small fortune back to Wabinosh House with them early in the spring.  Besides many mink, several fisher, two red foxes and a lynx, they added two fine “cross” foxes and three wolf scalps to their treasure during the next three weeks.  Rod began to think occasionally of the joy their success would bring to the little home hundreds of miles away, where he knew that the mother was waiting and praying for him every day of her life; and there were times, too, when he found himself counting the days that must still elapse before he returned to Minnetaki and the Post.