Again and again the shrewd old pathfinder went over the camp.
Not a sign escaped his eyes, not a mark or a broken stick but that was examined by him.

Rod knew that Minnetaki's capture must have occurred at least three days before, and yet the tracks about this camp were not more than a day old, if they were that.

What did it mean?
The very mystery of the thing filled him with a nameless fear.

Why had not the outlaw Woongas continued their flight?
Why this delay so near the scene of their crime?
He glanced at Wabi, but the Indian youth was as bewildered as himself.

In his eyes, too, there was the gleam of a fear which he could not have named.
Mukoki was beside the charred remains of the fire.