The following morning they would break camp, and leaving their canoe behind, for the creek was now too shallow for even birch-bark navigation, they would continue their exploration of the chasm in search of other adventures.
The whole summer was ahead of them, and though they had failed in discovering a treasure where John Ball and the Frenchmen had succeeded, they might find one farther on.

At least the trip deeper into the unexplored wilderness would be filled with excitement.
Mukoki rose to his feet, leaving Rod and Wabi still discussing their plans.

Suddenly he turned toward them, and a startled cry fell from his lips, while with one long arm he pointed beyond the fall into the upper chasm.
"Listen--heem--heem!" The old warrior's face twitched with excitement, and for a full half minute he stood motionless, his arm still extended, his black eyes staring steadily at Rod and Wabigoon who sat as silent as the rocks about them.

Then there came to them from a great distance a quavering, thrilling sound, a sound that filled them again with the old horror of the upper chasm--the cry of the mad hunter.
At that distant cry Wabigoon sprang to his feet, his eyes leaping fire, his bronzed cheeks whitening in an excitement even greater than that of Mukoki.
"Muky, I told you!" he cried.

"I told you!" The young Indian's body quivered, his hands were clenched, and when he turned upon Rod the white youth was startled by the look in his face.
"Rod, John Ball is coming back to his gold!" Hardly had he spoken the words when the tenseness left his body and his hands dropped to his side.
The words shot from him before he could control himself enough to hold them back.