A moose-head and eight scalps at fifteen dollars each isn't bad for one day's work, Rod, old boy!" He had been absent for three hours.

It had been snowing steadily and by the time he reached their old camp the trail left by Rod and Mukoki was already partly obliterated, showing that they had secured an early start up the river.
Bowing his head in the white clouds falling silently about him, Wabi started in swift pursuit.

He could not see ten rods ahead of him, so dense was the storm, and at times one side or the other of the river was lost to view.

Conditions could not have been better for their flight out of the Woonga country, thought the young hunter.

By nightfall they would be many miles up the river, and no sign would be left behind to reveal their former presence or to show in which direction they had gone.