the fact
that it was not made by a bear and that the handprint on the log
was not made by a man. But he was certain of one thing. In some way
Minnetaki was associated with both.

When he continued his pursuit he made his way with extreme caution. At
each new turn in the trail he fell behind some rock or clump of bushes
and scanned the gorge as far as he could see ahead of him. But each
moment these distances of observation became shorter. The ridge on his
left became almost a sheer wall; on his right a second ridge closed
in until the gorge had narrowed to a hundred feet in width, choked by
huge masses of rock thrown there in some mighty upheaval of past ages.
It was very soon apparent to Rod that the mysterious person whom he
was pursuing was perfectly at home in the lonely chasm. As straight as
a drawn whip-lash his trail led from one break in the rocky chaos to
another. Never did he err. Once the tracks seemed to end squarely
against a broad face of rock, but there the young hunter found a cleft
in the granite wall scarcely wider than his body, through which he
cautiously wormed his way. Where this cleft opened into the chasm
again the fugitive had rested for a few moments, and had placed some
burden upon the snow at his feet. A single glance disclosed what
this burden had been, for in the snow was that same clearly-defined
impression of a human hand!

There was no longer a doubt in Roderick's mind. He was on the trail
of Minnetaki's captor, and the outlaw was carrying his victim in his
arms! Minnetaki was injured! Perhaps she was dead. The fear gripped at
his heart until he looked again at the imprint in the snow--the widely
spread fingers, the flat, firm palm. Only a living hand would have
left its mark in that manner.

As on that autumn day in the forest, when he had fought for
Minnetaki's life, so now all hesitation and fear left him. His blood
leaped with anticipation rather than excitement, and he was eager for
the moment when he would once more throw his life in the balance in
behalf of Wabi's sister. He was determined to take advantage of the
Woonga fighting code and fire upon his enemy from ambush if the
opportunity offered, but at the same time he had no dread at the
thought of engaging in a closer struggle if this should be necessary.
He looked well to his rifle, loosened his big army revolver in its
holster, and saw that his hunting-knife did not stick in its scabbard.
A short distance from the cleft