hill Rod awoke to present realities. Wabi, who had
harnessed himself to the toboggan, was in high spirits.

"That cabin is a dandy!" he exclaimed as Rod joined him. "It would have
taken us at least two weeks to build as good a one. Isn't it luck?"

"We're going to live in it?" inquired his companion.

"Live in it! I should say we were. It is three times as big as the shack
we had planned to build. I can't understand why two men like those
fellows should have put up such a large cabin. What do you think,
Mukoki?"

Mukoki shook his head. Evidently the mystery of the whole thing, beyond
the fact that the tenants of the cabin had killed themselves in battle,
was beyond his comprehension.

The winter outfit was soon in a heap beside the cabin door.

"Now for cleaning up," announced Wabi cheerfully. "Muky, you lend me a
hand with the bones, will you? Rod can nose around and fetch out
anything he likes."

This assignment just suited Rod's curiosity. He was now worked up to a
feverish pitch of expectancy. Might he not discover some clue that would
lead to a solution of the mystery?

One question alone seemed to ring incessantly in his head. Why had they
fought? _Why had they fought?_

He even found himself repeating this under his breath as he began
rummaging about. He kicked over the old chair, which was made of
saplings nailed together, scrutinized a heap of rubbish that crumbled to
dust under his touch, and gave a little cry of exultation when he found
two guns leaning in a corner of the cabin. Their stocks were decaying;
their locks were encased with rust, their barrels, too, were thick with
the accumulated rust of years. Carefully, almost tenderly, he took one
of these relics of a past age in his hands. It was of ancient pattern,
almost as long as he was tall.

"Hudson Bay gun--the kind they had before my father was born!" said
Wabi.

With bated breath and eagerly beating heart Rod pursued his search. On
one of the walls he found the remains of what had once been
garments--part of a hat, that fell in a thousand pieces when he touched
it; the dust-rags of a coat and other things that he could not name. On
the table there were rusty pans, a tin pail, an iron kettle, and the
remains of old knives, forks and spoons. On one end of this table there
was an unusual-looking object, and he touched it. Unlike the other rags
it did not crumble, and when he lifted it he found that it was a small
bag, made of buckskin, tie