Half a mile back in the forest they heard the howl of a single wolf, and Wabi flashed a curious glance into the eyes of the old Indian.
"That's a man's cry," he whispered.

"The wolf has struck a human trail.
It isn't mine!" "Nor ours," replied Rod.
This one long howl of the wolf was the only sound that broke the stillness of approaching night.

Mukoki turned, and the others followed in his trail.

A quarter of a mile farther on the stream became still narrower and plunged between great masses of rock which rose into wild and precipitous hills that were almost mountains a little way back.

No longer could the hunters now follow the channel of the rushing torrent.
Through a break in a gigantic wall of rock and huge boulders led the trail of Rod and Mukoki.