He tried to speak, but words failed him, and his eyes closed again.

There was a look of terror in Roderick's face as he turned to the courier, who came to his side.

Less than twenty-four hours before he had left Wabigoon in the full strength of his splendid youth at Wabinosh House, a lithe young giant, hardened by their months of adventure, quivering with buoyant life, anxious for the spring that they might meet again to take up another trail into the unexplored North.
And now what a change! The glimpse he had caught of Wabi's bloodshot eyes, the terrible thinness of the Indian youth's face, the chilling lifelessness of his hands, made him shiver with dread.

Was it possible that a few short hours could bring about that remarkable transformation?
And where was Mukoki, the faithful old warrior from whose guardianship Wabigoon and Minnetaki were seldom allowed to escape?
It seemed an hour before Wabi opened his eyes again, and yet it was only a few minutes.

This time Rod lifted him gently in his arms and the courier placed a cup of the hot soup to his lips.