At the summit of that hill he dragged himself up like an animal, and then, crouching, ran swiftly to the opposite side, his rifle within six inches of his shoulder.

In the plain below them was unfolded to their eyes a scene which, despite his companion's warning, wrung an exclamation of dismay from Roderick's lips.
[Illustration: The leader stopped in his snow-shoes] Plainly visible to them in the edge of the plain were the outlaw Woongas and their captive.

They were in single file, with Wabi following the leader, and the hunters perceived that their comrade's arms were tied behind him.
But it was another sight that caused Rod's dismay.
From an opening beside a small lake half a mile beyond the Indians below there rose the smoke of two camp-fires, and Mukoki and he could make out at least a score of figures about these fires.
Within rifle-shot of them, almost within shouting distance, there was not only the small war party that had attacked the camp, but a third of the fighting men of the Woonga tribe! Rod understood their terrible predicament.

To attack the outlaws in an effort to rescue Wabi meant that an overwhelming force would be upon them within a few minutes; to allow Wabi to remain a captive meant--he shuddered at the thought of what it might mean, for he knew of the merciless vengeance of the Woongas upon the House of Wabinosh.
And while he was thinking of these things the faithful old warrior beside him had already formed his plan of attack.

He would die with Wabi, gladly--a fighting, terrible slave to devotion to the last; but he would not see Wabi die alone.