It was John Ball! And he was dead! For a third time, a fourth, and a fifth Mukoki and Wabigoon came up for air, and the fifth time they dragged themselves out upon the rocks that edged the pool.

Mukoki spoke no word but ran back to the camp and threw a great armful of dry fuel upon the fire.

Wabigoon still remained at the edge of the pool, dripping and shivering.

His hands were clenched, and Rod could see that they were filled with sand and gravel.

Mechanically the Indian opened his fingers and looked at what he had unconsciously brought up from under the fall.
For a moment he stared, then with his gasping breath there came a low, thrilling cry.
He held out his hands to Rod.
Gleaming richly among the pebbles which he held was a nugget of pure gold, a nugget so large that Rod gave a wild yell, and in that one moment forgot that John Ball, the mad hunter, was dead or dying beneath the fall!.