WABI MAKES A STRANGE DISCOVERY
Mukoki broke the silence which followed the terrible cry. With a
choking sound, as if some unseen hand were clutching at his throat, he
slipped from the rock upon which he was sitting and crouched behind
it, his rifle gleaming faintly as he leveled it down the chasm. There
came the warning click of Wabigoon's gun, and the young Indian hunched
himself forward until he was no more than an indistinct shadow in the
fast-deepening gloom of night. Only Rod still sat erect. For a moment
his heart seemed to stand still. Then something leaped into his brain
and spread like fire through his veins, calling him to his feet,
trembling with the knowledge of what that cry had told him! It was not
a lesson from the wilderness that Roderick Drew was learning now. As
fast as the mind could travel he had gone far back into the strife and
misery and madness of civilization, and there he found the language
of that fearful cry floating up the chasm. He had heard it once,
twice--yes, again and again, and the memory of it had burned deep down
into his soul. He turned to his companions, trying to speak, but the
horror that had first filled Mukoki now fastened itself on him, and
his tongue was lifeless.
"A madman!"
Wabi's fingers dug into his arm like the claws of a bear.
"A what!"
"A madman!" repeated Rod, trying to speak more calmly. "The man who
shot the bear and fired at Mukoki and who uses gold bullets in his gun
is mad--raving mad! I have heard those screams before--in the Eloise
insane asylum, near Detroit. He's--"
The words were frozen on his lips. Again the cry echoed up the
chasm. It was nearer this time, and with a sobbing, terrified sound,
something that Wabi had never heard fall from Mukoki's lips before,
the old warrior clung to Roderick's arm. Darkness hid the terror in
his face, but the white boy could feel it in the grip of his hands.
"Mad, raving mad!" he cried. Suddenly he gripped Mukoki fiercely by
the shoulders, and as Wabigoon crouched forward, ready to fire at the
first movement in the gloom, he thrust the butt of his rifle in his
back. "Don't shoot!" he commanded. "Mukoki, don't be a fool! That's
a man back there, a man who has suffered and starved, starved, mind
you!--until he's mad, stark mad! It would be worse than murder to kill
him!"
He stopped, and Mukoki drew back a step, breathing deeply.
"Heem--starve--no eat--gone bad dog?" he questioned softly. In an
instant Wabi was at his side.
"That's it, Muky--he's gone bad dog, just like that husky of ours who
went bad because he swallowed a fish bone. White men sometimes go bad
dog when they are thirsty and starving!"
"Our Great Spirit tells us that we must never harm them," added Rod.
"We put them in big houses, larger than all of the houses at the Post
together, and feed them and clothe them and care for them all their
lives. Are you afraid of a bad dog, Muky, or of a man who has gone bad
dog?"
"Bad dog bite deep--mebby so we kill heem!"
"But we don't kill them until we have to," persisted the quick-witted
Wabigoon, who saw the way in which Rod's efforts were being directed.
"Didn't we save our husky by taking the fish bone out of his throat?
We must save this bad dog, because he is a white man, like Rod. He
thinks all men are his enemies, just as a bad dog thinks all other
dogs are his enemies. So we must be careful and not give him a chance
to shoot us but we mustn't harm him!"
"It will be best if we don't let him know we are in the chasm," said
Rod, still speaking for Mukoki's benefit. "He's probably going out on
the plain, and must climb up this break in the mountain. Let's move
our stuff a little out of his path."
As the two boys went to the canoe their hands touched. Wabi was
startled by the coldness of his friend's fingers.
"We've fixed Mukoki," he whispered. "He won't shoot. But--"
"We may have to," replied Rod. "That will be up to you and me, Wabi.
We must use judgment, and unless it's a case of life or death--"
"Ugh!" shuddered the young Indian.
"If he doesn't discover our presence to-night we will get out of his
way to-morrow," continued Rod. "No fire--no talking. We must be as
still as death!"
For some time after their outfit was concealed among the rocks
Wabigoon sat with his mouth close to the old pathfinder's ear. Then he
returned to Rod.
"Muky understands. He has never seen or heard of a madman, and it is
hard for him to comprehend. But he knows--now, and understands what he
must do."
"Sh-h-h-h-h!"
"What is it?"
"I thought I heard a sound!" breathed Rod. "Did you hear it?"
"No."
The two listened. There was an awesome silence in the chasm now,
broken only by the distant murmur of running water, a strange,
chilling stillness in which the young hunters could hear the excited
beating of their own hearts. To Roderick the minutes passed like so
many hours. His ears were keyed to the highest tension of expectancy,
his eyes stared into the gloom beyond them until they ached with
his efforts to see. At every instant he expected to hear again that
terrible scream, this time very near, and he prepared himself to meet
it. But the seconds passed, and then the minutes, and still there came
no quick running of mad footsteps, no repetition of the cry. Had the
madman turned the other way? Was he plunging deeper into the blackness
of this mysterious world of his between the mountains?
"I guess I was mistaken," he whispered softly to Wabigoon. "Shall we
get out our blankets?"
"We might as well make ourselves comfortable," replied the young
Indian. "You sit here, and listen while I undo the pack."
He went noiselessly to Mukoki, who was leaning against the pack, and
Rod could hear them fumbling at the straps on the bundle. After a
little Wabi returned and the two boys spread out their blankets beside
the rock upon which they had been sitting. But there was no thought of
sleep in the mind of either, though both were dead tired from their
long day's work. They sat closer together, shoulder touching shoulder,
and unknown to his companion Roderick drew his revolver, cocked it
silently and placed it where he could feel the cold touch of its steel
between his fingers. He knew that he was the only one of the three who
fully realized the horror of their situation.
Mukoki's mind, simple in its reasoning of things that did not belong
to the wilderness, had accepted the assurances and explanations of
Rod and Wabigoon. Wabi, half-bred in the wild, felt alarm only in the
sense of physical peril. It was different with the white youth. What
is there in civilization that sends the chill of terror to one's heart
more quickly than the presence of a human being who has gone mad? And
this madman was at large! At that very instant he might be listening
to their breathing and their whispered words half a dozen feet away;
any moment might see the blackness take form and the terrible thing
hurl itself at their throats. Rod, unlike Wabigoon, knew that the
powers of this strange creature of the chasm were greater than their
own, that it could travel with the swiftness and silence of an animal
through the darkness, that perhaps it could smell them and feel their
presence as it passed on its way to the plain. He was anxious now to
hear the cry again. What was the meaning of this silence? Was the
madman already conscious of their presence? Was he creeping upon them
at that moment, as still as the black shadows that shut in their
vision? His mind was working in such vivid imaginings that he was
startled when Wabi prodded him gently in the side.
"Look over there--across the chasm," he whispered. "See that glow on
the mountain wall?"
"The moon!" replied Rod.
"Yes. I've been watching it, and it's creeping down and down. The
moon is going to swing across this break in the mountains. In fifteen
minutes we shall be able to see."
"It won't swing across so much as it will come up in line with us,"
replied Rod. "Watch how that light is lengthening! We shall be able to
see for several hours."
He started to rise to his feet but fell back with an astonished cry.
For a third time there came the mad hunter's scream, this time far
above and beyond them, floating down from the distance of the moon-lit
plain!
"He passed us!" exclaimed Wabi. "He passed us--and we didn't hear
him!" He leaped to his feet and his voice rose excitedly until it rang
in a hundred echoes between the chasm walls. "He passed us, and we
didn't hear him!"
Mukoki's voice came strangely from out of the gloom.
"No man do that! No man--no man--"
"Hush!" commanded Rod. "Now is our time, boys! Quick, get everything
to the creek. He's half a mile out on the plain and we can get away
before he comes back. I'd rather risk a few rocks than another one of
his golden bullets!"
"So had I!" cried Wabi.
As if their lives depended on their exertions the three set to work.
Mukoki staggered ahead over the rocks with his burden while the boys
followed with the light canoe and the remaining pack. Their previous
experiences in the chasm had taught them where to approach the stream,
and ten minutes later they were at its side. Without a moment's
hesitation Mukoki dropped his pack and plunged in. The edge of the
moon was just appearing over the southern mountain wall and by its
light Rod and Wabigoon could see that the water of the creek was
rushing with great swiftness as high as the old warrior's knees.
"No ver' deep," said the Indian. "Rocks--"
"I followed this creek for half a dozen miles and its bottom is as
smooth as a floor!" interrupted Rod. "There's no danger of rocks for
that distance!"
He made no effort now to suppress the pleasure which he felt at the
escape from their unpleasant situation. Mukoki steadied the canoe as
it was placed in the water, and was the last to climb into it, taking
his usual position in the stern where he could use to best advantage
the powerful sweeps of his paddle. In an instant the swift current
of the little stream caught the birch bark and carried it along with
remarkable speed. After several futile strokes of his paddle Wabi
settled back upon his heels.
"It's all up to you, Muky," he called softly. "I can't do a thing from
the bow. The current is too swift. All you can do is to keep her nose
straight."
The light of the moon was now filling the chasm and the adventurers
could see distinctly for a hundred yards or more ahead of them. Each
minute seemed to add to the swiftness and size of the stream, and by
the use of his paddle Wabi found that it was constantly deepening,
until he could no longer touch bottom. Rod's eyes were ceaselessly on
the alert for familiar signs along the shore. He was sure that he
knew when they passed the spot where he killed the silver fox, and
he called Wabi's attention to it. Then the rocks sped past with
increasing swiftness, and as the moon rose higher the three could see
where the overflowing torrent sent out little streams that twisted
and dashed themselves into leaping foam in the wildness of the chasm
beyond the main channel. These increased in number and size as the
journey continued, until Mukoki began to feel the influence of their
currents and called on Wabi and Rod for assistance. Suddenly Rod gave
a muffled shout as they shot past a mass of huge boulders on their
right.
"That's where I camped the night I dreamed of the skeletons!" he
cried. "I don't know what the stream is like from here on. Be
careful!"
Wabi gave a terrific lunge with his paddle and the cone of a black
rock hissed past half a canoe length away.
"It's as black as a dungeon ahead, and I can hear rocks!" he shouted.
"Bring her in if you can, Muky, bring her in!"
There came the sudden sharp crack of snapping wood and a low
exclamation of alarm fell from Mukoki. His paddle had broken at the
shaft. In a flash Rod realized what had happened and passed back his
own, but that moment's loss of time proved almost fatal. Freed of its
guiding hand the birch bark swung broadside to the current, and at the
same time Wabi's voice rose in a shrill cry of warning.
"It's not rocks, it's a whirlpool!" he yelled. "The other shore, swing
her out, swing her out!"
He dug his own paddle deep down into the racing current and from
behind Mukoki exerted his most powerful efforts, but it was too late!
A hundred feet ahead the stream tore between two huge rocks as big as
houses, and just beyond these Rod caught a glimpse of frothing water
churning itself milk-white in the moonlight. But it was only a
glimpse. With a velocity that was startling the canoe shot between
the rocks, and as a choking sea of spray leaped into their faces
Wabigoon's voice came back again in a loud command for the others to
hang to the gunwales of their frail craft. For an instant, in which
his thoughts seemed to have left him, a roaring din filled Rod's ears;
a white, churning mist hid everything but his own arms and clutching
hands, and then the birch bark darted with the sudden impetus of a
freshly-shot arrow around the jagged edge of the boulder--and he could
see again.
Here was the whirlpool! More than once Wabi had told him of these
treacherous traps, made by the mountain streams, and of the almost
certain death that awaited the unlucky canoe man drawn into their
smothering embrace. There was no angry raging of the flood here; at
first it seemed to Rod that they were floating almost without motion
upon a black, lazy sea that made neither sound nor riffle. Scarce half
a dozen canoe lengths away he saw the white center of the maelstrom,
and there came to his ears above the dash of the stream between the
two great rocks a faint hissing sound that curdled the blood in his
veins, the hissing of the treacherous undertow that would soon drag
them to their death! In the passing of a thought there flashed into
the white youth's mind a story that Mukoki had told him of an Indian
who had been lost in one of these whirlpools of the spring floods, and
whose body had been tossed and pitched about in its center for more
than a week. For the first time the power of speech came to him.
"Shall we jump?" he shouted.
"Hang to the canoe."
Wabi fairly shrieked the words, and yet as he spoke he drew himself
half erect, as if about to leap into the flood. The momentum gathered
in its swift rush between the rocks had carried their frail craft
almost to the outer edge of the deadly trap, and as this momentum
ceased and the canoe yielded to the sucking forces of the maelstrom
the young Indian shrieked out his warning again.
"Hang to the canoe!"
The words were scarcely out of his mouth when he stood erect and
launched himself like an animal into the black depths toward shore.
With a terrified cry Rod rose to his knees. In another instant he
would have plunged recklessly after Wabi, but Mukoki's voice sounding
behind him, snarling in its fierceness, stopped him.
"Hang to canoe!"
There came a jerk. The bow of the canoe swung inward and the stern
whirled so quickly that Rod, half kneeling, nearly lost his balance.
In that instant he turned his face and saw the old warrior standing,
as Wabigoon had done before him, and as Mukoki leaped there came for a
third time that warning cry:
"Hang to canoe!"
And Rod hung. He knew that for some reason those commands were meant
for him, and him alone; he knew that the desperate plunges of his
comrades were not inspired by cowardice or fear, but not until the
birch bark ground upon the shore and he tumbled out in safety did he
fully comprehend what had happened. Holding the rope with which they
tied their canoe, Wabigoon had taken a desperate chance. His quick
mind had leaped like a flash of powder to their last hope, and at the
crucial moment, just as the momentum of the birch bark gave way to the
whirling forces of the pool, he had jumped a good seven feet toward
shore, and had found bottom! Another twelve inches of water under him
and all would have been lost.
Wabigoon stood panting and dripping wet, and in the moonlight his face
was as white as the tub-like spot of foam out in the center of the
maelstrom.
"That's what you call going to kingdomcome and getting out again!" he
gasped. "Muky, that was the closest shave we've ever had! It has your
avalanche beaten to a frazzle!"
Mukoki was dragging the canoe upon the pebbly shore, and still
overcome by the suddenness of all that had happened Rod went to his
assistance.
The adventurers now discovered themselves in a most interesting
situation. The night had indeed been one of curious and thrilling
happenings for them, and here was a pretty climax to it all! They had
escaped the mad hunter by running into the almost fatal grip of the
whirlpool, and now they had escaped the perils of that seething
death-trap by plunging into a tiny rock-bound prison which seemed
destined to hold them for all time, or at least until the floods of
spring subsided. Straight above them, and shutting them in entirely,
rose precipitous rock walls. On the only open side was the deadly
maelstrom.
Even Mukoki as he glanced about him was struck by the humor of their
situation, and chuckled softly.
Wabi stood with his hands deep in his soaked pockets, facing the
moonlit walls. Then he turned to Rod, and grinned; then he faced the
whirlpool, and after that his eyes swept the space of sky above them.
The situation was funny, at first; but when he looked at the white
youth again the smile had died out of his face.
"Wouldn't that madman have fun if he found us now!" he whispered.
Mukoki was traveling slowly around the rock walls. The space in which
they were confined was not more than fifty feet in diameter, and there
was not even a crack by means of which a squirrel might have found
exit. The prison was perfect. The old pathfinder came back and sat
down with a grunt.
"We might as well have supper and a good sleep," suggested Rod,
who was hungry. "Surely we need fear no attack from beast or man
to-night!"
At least there was this consolation, and the gold hunters ate a
hearty meal of cold bear meat and prepared for slumber. The night
was unusually warm, and both Mukoki and Wabigoon hung out their wet
clothes to dry while they slept in their blankets. Rod did not open
his eyes again until Wabi awakened him in the morning. Both Indians
were dressed and it was evident that they had been up for some time.
When Rod went to the water to wash himself he was surprised to find
all of their supplies repacked in the canoe, as though their journey
was about to be resumed immediately after breakfast, and when he
returned to where Mukoki and Wabigoon had placed their food on a
flat stone in the center of what he had regarded as their prison, he
observed that both of his companions were in an unusually cheerful
frame of mind.
"Looks as though you expected to get out of here pretty soon," he
said, nodding toward the canoe.
"So we do!" responded Wabi. "We're going to take a swim through the
whirlpool!"
He laughed at the incredulity in Rod's face.
"That is, we're going to navigate along the edge of it," he amended.
"Muky and I have tied together every bit of rope and strap in our
outfit, even to our gun-slings, and we've got a piece about eighty
feet long. We'll show you how to use it after breakfast."
It took but a few minutes to dispose of the rather unappetizing repast
of cold bear meat, biscuits and water. Wabi then led the way to the
extreme edge of the great rock which formed the eastern wall of their
prison, waded in the water to his knees, and directed Rod's gaze to a
point of land jutting out into the stream about sixty feet beyond the
rock.
"If we can reach that," explained Wabi, "we can portage around the
rest of the whirlpool to the main channel. The water is very deep
along the edge of this rock, but the undertow doesn't seem to have any
great force. I believe that we can make it. The experiment won't be a
dangerous one at any rate."
The canoe was now dragged to the edge of the rock and launched, Mukoki
taking his place in the stern while Wabigoon placed Rod a little ahead
of the midship rib.
"You must paddle on your left side, every minute and as fast as you
can," advised the young Indian. "I am to remain behind, holding one
end of this rope, so that if you are drawn toward the maelstrom I can
pull you back. Understand?"
"Yes--but you. How--"
"Oh, I'll swim!" said Wabi in rank bravado. "I don't mind a little
whirlpool like that at all!"
Mukoki chuckled in high humor, and Roderick asked no more questions,
but at Wabi's command dug in his paddle and kept at it until the birch
bark safely made the point of land beyond the rock. When he looked
back Wabi had tied the rope around his body and was already waist
deep in the water. At a signal from Mukoki the young Indian plunged
fearlessly into the edge of the whirlpool and like a great floundering
fish he was quickly pulled across to safety. Most of his clothes had
been brought over in the canoe, and after Wabigoon had exchanged his
wet garments for these the adventurers were ready to continue their
journey down the chasm. A short portage brought them to the main
channel of the stream, where they once more launched their birch bark.
"If the whole trip is as exciting as this we'll never reach our gold,"
said Wabi, as they slipped out into the swift current. "A madman, a
whirlpool and a prison, all in one night, is almost more than we can
stand."
"There's a good deal of truth in the old saying that it never rains
but it pours," replied Rod. "Maybe we'll have smooth sailing from now
on."
"Mebby!" grunted the old pathfinder from behind.
Rod's optimism was vindicated for that day, at least. Until noon the
canoe sped swiftly down the chasm without mishap. The stream, to which
each mile added its contribution of flood water from the mountain
tops, increased constantly in width and depth, but only now and then
was there a rock to threaten their progress, and no driftwood at all.
When the gold seekers landed for dinner they were confident of two
things: that they had passed far beyond the mad hunter's reach,
and were very near to the first waterfall. Memory of the thrilling
experiences through which they had so recently run the gauntlet was
replaced by the most exciting anticipation of the sound and sight
of that first waterfall, which was so vitally associated with their
search for the lost treasure. This time a hearty dinner was cooked,
and it took more than an hour to prepare and eat it.
When the journey was resumed Mukoki placed himself in the bow, his
sharp eyes scanning the rocks and mountain walls ahead of him. Two
hours after the start he gave an exultant exclamation, and raised a
warning hand above his head. The three listened. Faintly above the
rush of the swift current there came to their ears the distant rumble
of falling water!
Forgetful now of the madman back in the chasm, oblivious of everything
but the fact that they had at last reached the first of the three
falls which were to lead them to the gold, Wabi gave a whoop that
echoed and reëchoed between the mountain walls, and Rod joined him
with all the power of his lungs. Mukoki grinned, chuckled in his
curious way, and a few moments later signaled Wabi to guide the canoe
ashore.
"We portage here," he explained. "Current swift there--mebby go over
fall!"
A short carry of two or three hundred yards brought them to the
cataract. It was, as Mukoki had said after his long trip of
exploration a few months before, a very small fall, not more than a
dozen feet in height. But over it there was now rushing a thundering
deluge of water. An easy trail led to the stream below it, and no time
was lost in getting under way again.
Although they had traveled fully forty miles since morning, the day
had been an easy and most interesting one for the three adventurers.
On the swift current of the chasm stream they had worked but little,
and the ceaseless change of scenery in this wonderful break between
the mountain ridges held an ever-increasing fascination for them. Late
in the afternoon the course changed from its northeasterly direction
to due north, and at this point there was an ideal spot for camping.
Over an extent of an acre or more there was a sweeping hollow of fine
white sand, with great quantities of dry wood cluttering the edge of
the depression.
"That's a curious spot!" said Wabi as they drew up their canoe. "Looks
like--"
"A lake," grunted Mukoki. "Long time ago--a lake."
"The curve of the stream right here has swept up so much sand that the
water can't get into it," added Rod, looking the place over.
Wabi had gone a few paces back. Suddenly he stopped, and with a half
shout he gesticulated excitedly to his companions. Something in his
manner took Rod and Mukoki to him on the run.
When they came up the Indian youth stood mutely pointing at something
in the sand.
Clearly imprinted in that sand was the shape of a human foot, a foot
that had worn neither boot nor moccasin when it left its trail in the
lake bed, but which was as naked as the quivering hand which Wabigoon
now held toward it!
And from that single footprint the eyes of the astonished adventurers
traveled quickly to a hundred others, until it seemed to them that a
dozen naked savages must have been dancing in these sands only a few
hours before.
And Rod, glancing toward the driftwood, saw something else,--something
toward which he pointed, speechless, white with that same strange
excitement that had taken possession of Wabigoon!