For a time the blackness of the night grew deeper; then, in the southeast, came the first faint streak of dawn.

Day is born as suddenly as it dies in these regions, and it was soon light enough for Mukoki to resume his trail at a trot.

A few minutes more and a clump of balsam and spruce loomed up out of the plain ahead of them.

Neither Rod nor Wahigoon recognized it until the old warrior halted the dogs close in its shadows and they saw the look of triumph in his face.
"The camp!" breathed Wabi.
"The camp!" Trembling, his voice quivering with suppressed excitement, the Indian youth turned to Roderick Drew.
"Rod--it's all up to you!" Mukoki, too, had come close to his side.
"There--camp!" he whispered.

"Now--where Minnetaki's trail ?" The old warrior's eyes were blazing.
"Where ?" A dozen paces away was the balsam shelter they had built.