"Six mile.

Carry everything." "Until we reach the little creek in the plains beyond the mountain, where you shot the caribou ?" asked Rod.
"Yes," replied Wabigoon.

"That little creek will now be a pretty husky stream, and by hard work we can paddle up it until we come within about eight miles of our old camp at the head of the chasm, where we found the skeletons and the map." "And from that point we shall have to carry our canoe and supplies to the creek in the chasm," finished Rod.

"And then--hurrah for the gold!" "Mak' old camp on mountain by night," said Mukoki.
Wabi broke into a happy laugh and thumped Rod on the back.
"Remember the big lynx you shot, Rod, and thought it was a Woonga, and had us all frightened out of our wits ?" he cried.
Rod colored at the memory of his funny adventure, which was thrilling enough at the time, and began assisting Mukoki in unloading the canoe.
Two hours were taken for dinner and rest, and then the young hunters shouldered their canoe while Mukoki hurried on ahead of them, weighted with a half of their supplies.

Every step now brought the thunder of the torrent rushing through the mountain more clearly to their ears, and they had not progressed more than a mile when they were compelled to shout to make each other hear.