that swept back over the
hill, and partly inclosed by a meadow-like opening. One might have
traveled through the country a thousand times without discovering this
bit of wilderness paradise hidden in a hilltop. Without speaking Mukoki
threw off his heavy pack. Wabi unbuckled his harness and relieved his
shoulders of their burden. Rod, following their example, dropped his
small pack beside that of the old Indian, and Wolf, straining at his
babeesh thong, gazed with eager eyes into the hollow as though he, too,
knew that it was to be their winter home.

Wabi broke the silence.

"How is that, Muky?" he asked.

Mukoki chuckled with unbounded satisfaction.

"Ver' fine. No get bad wind--never see smoke--plenty wood--plenty
water."

Relieved of their burdens, and leaving Wolf tied to the toboggan, the
hunters made their way down to the lake. Hardly had they reached its
edge when Wabi halted with a startled exclamation and pointed into the
forest on the opposite side.

"Look at that!"

A hundred yards away, almost concealed among the trees, was a cabin.
Even from where they stood they could see that it was deserted. Snow was
drifted high about it. No chimney surmounted its roof. Nowhere was there
a sign of life.

Slowly the hunters approached. It was evident that the cabin was very
old. The logs of which it was built were beginning to decay. A mass of
saplings had taken root upon its roof, and everything about it gave
evidence that it had been erected many years before. The door, made of
split timber and opening toward the lake, was closed; the one window,
also opening upon the lake, was tightly barred with lengths of sapling.

Mukoki tried the door, but it resisted his efforts. Evidently it was
strongly barred from within.

Curiosity now gave place to astonishment.

How could the door be locked within, and the window barred from within,
without there being somebody inside?

For a few moments the three stood speechless, listening.

"Looks queer, doesn't it?" spoke Wabi softly.

Mukoki had dropped on his knees beside the door. He could hear no sound.
Then he kicked off his snow-shoes, gripped his belt-ax and stepped to
the window.

A dozen blows and one of the bars fell. The old Indian sniffed
suspiciously, his ear close to the opening. Damp, stifling air greeted
his nostrils, but still there was no sound. One after another he knocked
off the remaining bars and thrust his head and shoulders inside.
Gradually