The Collected Works of James Oliver Curwood (Illustrated Edition). James Oliver Curwood
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"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!
CHAPTER XIII
THE THIRD WATERFALL
The others followed Rod's arm. Behind him he heard the gentle click of Wabigoon's revolver and the sharp, vicious snap of the safety on Mukoki's rifle.
From beyond the driftwood there was rising a thin spiral of smoke!
"Whoever they are, they have certainly seen or heard us!" said Wabi, after they had stood in silence for a full minute.
"Unless they are gone from camp," replied Rod in a whisper.
"Keep eyes open!" warned Mukoki as they advanced cautiously in the direction of the smoke. "No can tell what, I guess so!"
He was first to mount the driftwood, and then he gave vent to a huge grunt. The smoke was rising from beside a charred log which was heaped half-way up its side with ashes and earth. In a flash the meaning of the ash and dirt dawned on Rod and his companions. The fire was banked. Those who had built it were gone, but they expected to return. The naked footprints were thick about the camp-fire, and close to one end of the charred log were scattered a number of bones. One after another Mukoki picked up several of these and closely examined them. While Rod and Wabigoon were still gazing about them in blank astonishment, half expecting attack from a savage horde at any moment, the old warrior had already reached a conclusion, and calling to his companions he brought their attention to the tracks in the sand.
"Same feet!" he exclaimed. "One man mak' all track!"
"Impossible!" cried Wabi. "There are—thousands of them!"
Mukoki grunted and fell upon his knees.
"Heem big toe—right foot—broke sometime. Same in all track. See?"
Disgusted at his own lack of observation, Wabigoon saw at once that the old pathfinder was right. The joint of the big toe on the right foot was twisted fully half an inch outward, a deformity that left a peculiar impression in the sand, and every other track bore this telltale mark. No sooner were the two boys convinced of the correctness of Mukoki's assertion than another and still more startling surprise was sprung on them. Holding out his handful of bones, Mukoki said:
"Meat no cook—eat raw!"
"Great Scott!" gasped