<h4 id="id00602" style="margin-top: 2em">THE CRY IN THE CHASM</h4>
<p id="id00603">If Mukoki had been a white man he would have analyzed in some way the
meaning of those strange cries. But the wild and its savage things
formed his world; and his world, until this night, had never known
human or beast that could make the terrible sounds he had heard. So
for an hour he crouched where he had fallen, still trembling with
that nameless fear, and trying hard to form a solution of what had
happened. Slowly he recovered himself. For many years he had mingled
with white people at the Post and reason now battled with the
superstitions of his race.</p>
<p id="id00604">He had been fired at. He had heard the whistling song of the ball over
his head, and had heard it strike the tree behind him. For a time
those rocks toward which he stared like fascinated beast had concealed
a man. But what kind of man! He remembered the ancient battle-cries
of his tribe, and of the enemies of his tribe, but none was like the
cries that had followed the shot. He heard them still; they rang in
his ears, and sent shivering chills up his back. And the more he tried
to reason the greater that nameless fear grew in him, until he slunk
like an animal down the side of the mountain, through the dip, and out
again upon the plain. And with that same nameless fear always close
behind him, urging him on with its terrors, he sped back over the
trail that he had followed that day, nor for an instant did he stop to
rest until he came to the camp-fire of Rod and Wabigoon.</p>
<p id="id00605">Usually an Indian hides his fears; he conceals them as a white man
does his sins. But to-night Mukoki's experience had passed beyond the
knowledge of his race, and he told of what had happened, trembling
still, cringing when a great white rabbit darted close to the fire.
Rod and Wabi listened to him in mute astonishment.</p>
<p id="id00606">"Could it have been a Woonga?" asked Wabi.</p>
<p id="id00607">"No Woonga," replied the old warrior quickly, shaking his head.
"Woonga no mak' noise lak that!"</p>
<p id="id00608">He drew away from the fire, wrapped himself in a blanket, and crept
into the shelter that Rod and Wabigoon had built. The two boys looked
at each other in silence.</p>
<p id="id00609">"Muky has certainly had some most extraordinary adventure," said Wabi
at last. "I have never seen him like this before. It is easy to guess
the meaning of the shot. Some of the Woongas may still be in the
country, and one of them saw Mukoki, and fired at him. But the scream!
What do you make of that?"</p>
<p id="id00610">"Do you suppose," whispered Rod, speaking close to his companion's
ear, "that Mukoki's imagination helped him out to-night?" He paused
for a moment as he saw the look of disapproval in Wabigoon's eyes,
and then went on. "I don't mean to hint that he stretched his story
purposely. He was standing on the mountain top. Suddenly there came a
flash of fire, the report of a rifle, and a bullet zipped close to his
head. And at that same instant, or a moment later—well, you remember
the scream of the lynx!"</p>
<p id="id00611">"You believe that it might have been a lynx, startled by the shot, and
sent screaming across the plain?"</p>
<p id="id00612">"Yes."</p>
<p id="id00613">"Impossible. At the sound of that shot a lynx would have remained as
still as death!"</p>
<p id="id00614">"Still there are always exceptions," persisted the white youth.</p>
<p id="id00615">"Not in the case of lynx," declared Wabigoon. "No animal made those
cries. Mukoki is as fearless as a lion. The cry of a lynx would have
stirred his blood with pleasure instead of fear. Whatever the sounds
were they turned Mukoki's blood into water. They made him a coward,
and he ran, ran, mind you! until he got back to us! Is that like
Mukoki? I tell you the cries—"</p>
<p id="id00616">"What?"</p>
<p id="id00617">"Were something very unusual," finished Wabigoon quietly, rising to
his feet "Perhaps we will find out more to-morrow. As it is, I believe
we had better stand guard in camp to-night. I will go to bed now and
you can awaken me after a while."</p>
<p id="id00618">Wabigoon's words and the strangeness of his manner put Rod ill at
ease, despite his arguments of a few moments before, and no sooner did
he find himself alone beside the fire than he began to be filled with
an unpleasant premonition of lurking danger. For a time he sat very
still, trying to peer into the shadows beyond the fire and listening
to the sounds that came to him from out of the night. As he watched
and listened his brain worked ceaselessly, conjuring picture after
picture of what that danger might be, and at last he drew out of the
firelight and concealed himself in the deep gloom of the bush. From
here he could see the camp, and at the same time was safe from a
possible rifle shot.</p>
<p id="id00619">The night passed with tedious slowness, and he was glad when, a little
after midnight, Wabi came out to relieve him. At dawn he was in turn
awakened by the young Indian. Mukoki was already up and had prepared
his pack. Apparently he had regained his old spirits, but both Rod and
Wabigoon could see that behind them the fear of the preceding night
still haunted him. That morning he did not set off ahead of the two
boys with his pack but walked beside them, stopping to rest when they
lowered their canoe, his eyes never ceasing their sharp scrutiny of
the plain and distant ridges. Once when Mukoki mounted a big rock to
look about him, Wabi whispered,</p>
<p id="id00620">"I tell you it's strange, Rod—mighty strange!"</p>
<p id="id00621">An hour later the old warrior halted and threw off his load. The three
had approached within a quarter of a mile of the dip in the mountain.</p>
<p id="id00622">"Leave canoe here," he said. "Go lak fox to old camp. Mebbe see!"</p>
<p id="id00623">He took the lead now, followed closely by the boys. The safety of the
old pathfinder's rifle was down, and following his example Rod and
Wabigoon held their own guns in readiness for instant fire. As they
neared the summit of the ridge on which Mukoki's life had been
attempted the suspense of the two young hunters became almost
painfully acute. Mukoki's actions not only astonished them, but
set their blood tingling with his own strange fear. Many times had
Wabigoon seen his faithful comrade in moments of deadly peril but
never, even when the Woongas were close upon their trail, had he known
him to take them as seriously as he did the ascent of this mountain.
Every few steps Mukoki paused, listening and watchful. Not the
smallest twig broke under his moccasined feet; the movement of the
smallest bird, the trembling of a bush, the scurry of a rabbit halted
him, rigid, his rifle half to shoulder. And Rod and Wabigoon soon
become filled with this same panic-stricken fear. What terrible dread
was it that filled Mukoki's soul? Had he seen something of which he
had not told them? Did he think something which he had not revealed?</p>
<p id="id00624">Foot by foot the three came to the top of the ridge. There Mukoki
straightened himself, and stood erect. There were no signs of a living
creature about them. Down in the dip nestled the little lake, gleaming
in the midday sun. They could make out the debris of the burned cabin
in which they had passed their hunting season, and close to this was
the pack which Mukoki had dropped there the night before. No one had
molested it. Wabi's face relaxed. Rod, breathing easier, laughed
softly. What had there been to fear? He glanced questioningly at
Mukoki.</p>
<p id="id00625">"There rocks, there tree," said the old warrior, in answer to Rod's
glance, "down there went scream!" He pointed far out across the plain.</p>
<p id="id00626">Wabi had gone to the tree.</p>
<p id="id00627">"See here, Rod!" he cried. "By George, this was a close shave!" He
pointed to a tiny hole freshly made in the smooth white surface of the
tree as the others came up. "There—stand there, Mukoki, back to the
tree, as you said you were when the shot was fired. Great Caesar, that
fellow had a dead line on your head—two inches high! No wonder it
made you think the scream of a lynx was something else!"</p>
<p id="id00628">"No lynx," said Mukoki, his face darkening.</p>
<p id="id00629">"Shame on you, Muky!" laughed Wabigoon. "Don't get angry. I won't say
it again if it makes you mad."</p>
<p id="id00630">Rod had drawn his hunting-knife and was prodding the point of it in
the bullet hole.</p>
<p id="id00631">"I can feel the ball," he said. "It's not in more than an inch."</p>
<p id="id00632">"That's curious," exclaimed Wabigoon, coming close beside him. "It
ought to be half-way through the tree at least! Eh, Muky? I don't
believe it would have hurt—"</p>
<p id="id00633">He stopped. Rod had turned with a sudden excited cry. He held out his
knife, tip upward, and pointed to it with the index finger of his free
hand. Wabi's eyes fell on the tip of the blade. Mukoki stared. For a
full half minute the three stood in speechless amazement. Clinging to
the knife tip was a tiny fleck of yellow, gleaming lustrously in the
sun as Rod slowly turned the handle of his weapon.</p>
<p id="id00634">"Another—gold—bullet!"</p>
<p id="id00635">The words fell from Wabi's lips very slowly, and so low that they were
scarce above a whisper. Mukoki seemed to have ceased breathing. Rod's
eyes met the old warrior's.</p>
<p id="id00636">"What does it mean?"</p>
<p id="id00637">Wabi had pulled his knife and was digging into the tree. A few deep
cuts and the golden bullet lay exposed to view.</p>
<p id="id00638">"What does it mean?" repeated the white youth.</p>
<p id="id00639">Again he addressed his question to Mukoki.</p>
<p id="id00640">"Man who shoot bear—heem no dead," replied the old pathfinder. "Same
gun, same gold, same—"</p>
<p id="id00641">"Same what?"</p>
<p id="id00642">A strange gleam came for an instant into Mukoki's eyes, and without
finishing he turned and pointed across the narrow plain that lay
between them and the mysterious chasm which they were to follow in
their search for treasure.</p>
<p id="id00643">"Cry went there!" he said shortly.</p>
<p id="id00644">"To the chasm!" said Wabi.</p>
<p id="id00645">"To the chasm!" repeated Rod.</p>
<p id="id00646">Impelled by the same thought the three adventurers went toward the
rocks from which the shot had been fired. Surely they would discover
some sign there, or lower down upon the plain, where the melting snows
had softened the earth. Mukoki led in the search, and foot by foot
they examined the spot where the mysterious marksman must have stood
when he sent his golden bullet so close to the Indian's head.</p>
<p id="id00647">But not a trace of his presence had he left behind. Working abreast,
the three began the descent of the ridge. Hardly had they covered a
third of the distance to the plain when Wabi, who was trailing between
Rod and the old Indian, called out that he had made a discovery.
Mukoki had already reached him when Rod came up, and the two were
gazing silently at something fluttering from a bush.</p>
<p id="id00648">"Lynx hair!" cried Rod. "A lynx has been this way!" He could not
entirely conceal the triumph in his voice. He had been right in his
conjecture of the night before, the cry that had frightened Mukoki had
been made by a lynx!</p>
<p id="id00649">"Yes, a lynx has been this way, a lynx four feet high," said Wabigoon
quietly, and the touch of raillery in his voice assured Rod that he
had still other lessons to learn in the life of this big wilderness.
"Lynx don't grow that big, Rod!"</p>
<p id="id00650">"Then it's—" Rod feared to go on.</p>
<p id="id00651">"Lynx fur. That's just what it is. Whoever fired at Mukoki last night
was dressed in skins! Now, can you tell us what that means?"</p>
<p id="id00652">Without waiting for an answer Wabigoon resumed his search. But the
mountain side gave no further evidence. Not a footprint was found upon
the plain. If the mysterious person who had fired the golden bullet
had leaped from the mountain top into space he could have left no
fewer traces behind him. At the end of an hour Rod and his companions
returned to the canoe, carried their loads to the pack in the dip,
and prepared dinner. Their suspense and fear, and specially Mukoki's
dread, were in a large measure gone. But at the same time they were
more hopelessly mystified than ever. That there was danger ahead of
them, that the menace of golden bullets was actual and thrilling, all
three were well agreed, but the sunlight of day and a little sound
reasoning had dispelled their half superstitious terrors of the
previous night and they began to face the new situation with their
former confidence.</p>
<p id="id00653">"We can't let this delay us," said Wabi, as they ate their dinner. "By
night we ought to be in our old camp at the head of the chasm, where
we held the Woongas at bay last winter. The sooner we get out of the
way of these golden bullets the better it will be for us!"</p>
<p id="id00654">Mukoki shrugged his shoulders.</p>
<p id="id00655">"Gold bullet follow, I guess so," he grunted, "Cry went there—to
chasm!"</p>
<p id="id00656">"I don't believe this fellow, whoever he is, will hang to our trail,"
continued Wabi, giving Rod a suggestive look. A few moments later he
found an opportunity to whisper, "We've got to get that cry out of
Muky's head, Rod, or we'll never find our gold!"</p>
<p id="id00657">When Mukoki had gone to arrange his pack the young Indian spoke
earnestly to his companion.</p>
<p id="id00658">"Muky isn't afraid of bullets, either gold or lead; he isn't afraid of
any danger on earth. But that cry haunts him. He is trying not to
let us know, yet it haunts him just the same. Do you know what he is
thinking? No? Well, I do! He is superstitious, like the rest of his
race, and the two gold bullets, the terrible cries, and the fact that
we found no tracks upon the plain are all carrying him toward one
conclusion, that the strange thing that fired at him is—"</p>
<p id="id00659">Wabigoon paused and wiped his face, and it was easy for Rod to see
that he was suppressing some unusual excitement.</p>
<p id="id00660">"What does he think it is?"</p>
<p id="id00661">"I'm not sure, not quite sure, yet," went on the Indian youth. "But
listen! It is a legend in Mukoki's tribe, and always has been, that
once in every so many generations they are visited by a terrible
warrior sent by the Great Spirit who takes sacrifice of them, a
sacrifice of human life, because of a great wrong that was once done
by their people. And this warrior, though invisible, has a voice that
makes the mountains quake and the rivers stand still with fear, and
in his great bow he shoots shafts that are made of gold! Do you
understand? Last night I heard Mukoki talking about it in his sleep.
Either we must hear this cry, and find out more about it, or hurry to
a place where it won't be heard again. Golden bullets and cries and
Mukoki's superstitions are going to be worse than Woongas if we don't
watch out!"</p>
<p id="id00662">"But the whole thing is as plain as day!" declared Rod in
astonishment. "A man shot at the bear, and the same man shot at
Mukoki, and he fired gold each time. Surely—"</p>
<p id="id00663">"It's not the man part of it," interrupted the other. "It's the cry.
There, Mukoki has his pack ready. Let's start for the chasm at once!"</p>
<p id="id00664">This time the boys had a heavier burden than usual, for in the canoe
they placed one of the two loads carried by Mukoki, and consequently
their progress toward the chasm was much slower than that across the
plain. It was late in the afternoon when they reached the break that
led into the chasm, and as they cautiously made the descent now Rod
thought of the thrilling pursuit of the Woonga horde, and how a few
weeks before they had discovered this break just in time for Wabi and
him to save their lives, and that of the wounded Mukoki. It was with a
feeling almost of awe that the three adventurers penetrated deeper and
deeper into the silent gloom of this mystery-filled gulch between the
mountains, and when they reached the bottom they set their loads down
without speaking, their eyes roving over the black walls of rock,
their hearts throbbing a little faster with excitement.</p>
<p id="id00665">For here, at this break in the mountain, began the romantic trail
drawn by men long dead, the trail that led to a treasure of gold.</p>
<p id="id00666">As the three sat in silence, the gloom in the chasm thickened. The sun
had passed beyond the southwestern forests, and through the narrow
rift between the mountain walls there fell but the ebbing light of
day, dissolving itself into the shadows of dusk as it struggled weakly
in the cavernous depths. For a few minutes this swift fading of day
into night gripped the adventurers in its spell. What did the lonely
solitudes of that chasm hold for them? Where would they lead them? To
Rod's mind there came a picture of the silver fox and a thought of
his dream, when for a few miles he had explored the mysteries of this
strange, sunless world shut in by rock walls. Again he saw the dancing
skeletons, heard the rattle of their bones, and watched the wonderful
dream-battle that had led him to the birch-bark map. Wabigoon, his
eyes gleaming in the gathering darkness, thought of their flight from
the outlaw savages, and Mukoki—</p>
<p id="id00667">The white youth had turned a little to look at the old warrior. Mukoki
sat as rigid as a pillar of stone an arm's reach from him. Head erect,
arms tense, his eyes gleaming strangely, he stared straight out into
the gloom between the chasm walls. Rod shivered. He knew, knew without
questioning, that Mukoki was thinking of the cry!</p>
<p id="id00668">And at that instant there floated up from the black chaos ahead a
sound, a sound low and weird, like the moaning of a winter's wind
through the pine tops, swelling, advancing, until it ended in a
shriek—a shriek that echoed and reëchoed between the chasm walls,
dying away in a wail that froze the blood of the three who sat and
listened!</p>
<h2 id="id00669" style="margin-top: 4em">CHAPTER XII</h2>
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