is hand under Wabi's thick shirt he held it there for an
instant, and said, "He's alive!"

Quickly drawing a small metal flask from one of his pockets he
unscrewed the top, and placing the mouthpiece to the Indian youth's
lips forced a bit of its contents down his throat. The liquor had
almost immediate effect, and Wabigoon opened his eyes, gazed into the
rough visage of the courier, then closed them again. There was relief
in the courier's face as he pointed to the dogs from Wabinosh House.
The exhausted animals were lying stretched upon the snow, their heads
drooping between their forefeet. Even the presence of a rival team
failed to arouse them from their lethargy. One might have thought that
death had overtaken them upon the trail were it not for their panting
sides and lolling tongues.

"He's not hurt!" exclaimed the driver, "see the dogs! He's been
running--running until he dropped in his tracks!"

The assurance brought but little comfort to Rod. He could feel the
tremble of returning life in Wabi's body now, but the sight of the
exhausted and bleeding dogs and the memory of his comrade's last words
had filled him with a new and terrible fear. What had happened to
Minnetaki? Why had the factor's son come all this distance for him?
Why had he pursued the mail until his dogs were nearly dead, and he
himself had fallen unconscious in his tracks? Was Minnetaki dead? Had
the Woongas killed Wabi's beautiful little sister?

Again and again he implored his friend to speak to him, until the
courier pushed him back and carried Wabi to the mail sled.

"Hustle up there to that bunch of spruce and build a fire," he
commanded. "We've got to get something hot into him, and rub him down,
and roll him in furs. This is bad enough, bad enough!"

Rod waited to hear no more, but ran to the clump of spruce to which
the courier had directed him. Among them he found a number of birch
trees, and stripping off an armful of bark he had a fire blazing upon
the snow by the time the dog mail drew up with its unconscious burden.
While the driver was loosening Wabi's clothes and bundling him in
heavy bearskins Rod added dry limbs to the fire until it threw a warm
glow for a dozen paces around. Within a few minutes a pot of ice and
snow was melting over the flames and the courier was opening a can of
condensed soup.

The deathly pallor had gone from Wabi's face, and Rod, kneeling close
beside him, was rejoiced to see the breath coming mor