He realized the peril of his dilemma, and yet he knew not what course to take to evade it.

He had little doubt that the trail was made by one of the treacherous Woongas, and that the Indian not only knew of his presence, but was somewhere in the rocks ahead of him, perhaps even now waiting behind some ambuscade to shoot him.

Should he follow the trail, or would it be safer to steal along among the rocks of the opposite wall of the chasm?
He had decided upon the latter course when his eyes caught a narrow horizontal slit cleaving the face of the mountain on his left, toward which the snow-shoe tracks seemed to lead.

With his rifle ready for instant use the youth slowly approached the fissure, and was surprised to find that it was a complete break in the wall of rock, not more than four feet wide, and continuing on a steady incline to the summit of the ridge.

At the mouth of this fissure his mysterious watcher had taken off his snow-shoes and Rod could see where he had climbed up the narrow exit from the chasm.
With a profound sense of relief the young hunter hurried along the base of the mountain, keeping well within its shelter so that eyes that might be spying from above could not see his movements.