all eyes eagerly sought for signs
of the mouth of the Ombabika, where their stirring adventures of the
winter before had begun. For some time Wabi's gaze had been fixed
upon a long, white rim along the shore, to which he now called his
companions' attention.

"It seems to be moving," he said, turning to Mukoki. "Is it
possible--" He paused doubtfully.

"What?" questioned Rod.

"That it's swans!" he completed.

"Swans!" cried the young hunter. "Great Scott, do you mean to say
there could be enough swans--"

"They sometimes cover the lake in thousands," said Wabi. "I have seen
them whitening the water as far as one could see."

"More swan as you count in twent' t'ous'nd year!" affirmed Mukoki.
After a few moments he added, "Them no swan. Ice!"

There was an unpleasant ring in his voice as he spoke the last
word, and though Rod did not fully understand what significance the
discovery held for them he could not but observe that it occasioned
both of his comrades considerable anxiety. The cause was not long in
doubt. Another half hour of brisk paddling brought them to the edge of
a frozen field of ice that extended for a quarter of a mile from the
shore. In both directions it stretched beyond their vision. Wabi's
face was filled with dismay. Mukoki sat with his paddle across his
knees, uttering not a sound.

"What's the matter?" asked Rod. "Can't we make it?"

"Make it!" exclaimed Wabigoon. "Yes--perhaps to-morrow, or the next
day!"

"Do you mean to say we can't get over that ice?"

"That's just exactly the predicament we are in. The edge of that ice
is rotten."

The canoe had drifted alongside the ice, and Rod began pounding it
with his paddle. For a distance of two feet it broke off in chunks,
then became more firm.

"I believe that if we cut our way in for a canoe length or so it would
hold us," he declared.

Wabi reached for an ax.

"We'll try it!"

Mukoki shook his head.

But for a second time that day Wabigoon persisted in acting against
the old pathfinder's judgment, something that Rod had never known him
to be guilty of before. Foot by foot he broke the ice ahead of the
canoe, until the frail craft had thrust its length into the rotten
field. Then, steadying himself on the bow, he stepped out cautiously
upon the ice.

"There!" he cried triumphantly. "You next, Rod! Steady!"

In a moment Rod had joined him. What happened after that seemed to
pass like a terrible nightmare. First there came