out and seized the sheet of bark and examined it closely. As he
looked there came a deeper flush in his face, his eyes brightened and he
gave a cry of excitement.

"By George, I believe we can peel this!" he cried. "See here, Muky!" He
thrust the birch under the old Indian's eyes. Even Mukoki's hands were
trembling.

"Birch-bark is made up of a good many layers, each as thin as the
thinnest paper," he explained to Rod as Mukoki continued his
examination. "If we can peel off that first layer, and then hold it up
to the light, we shall be able to see the impression of every word that
was ever made on it--even though they were written a hundred years ago!"

Mukoki had gone to the door, and now he turned, grinning exultantly.

"She peel!"

He showed them where he had stripped back a corner of the film-like
layer. Then he sat down in the light, his head bent over, and for many
minutes he worked at his tedious task while Wabi and Rod hung back in
soundless suspense. Half an hour later Mukoki straightened himself, rose
to his feet and held out the precious film to Rod.

As tenderly as though his own life depended upon its care, Rod held the
piece of birch, now a silken, almost transparent sheet, between himself
and the light. A cry welled up into his throat. It was repeated by Wabi.
And then there was silence--a silence broken only by their bated breaths
and the excited thumpings of their hearts.

As though they had been written but yesterday, the mysterious words on
the map were disclosed to their eyes. Where Rod had made out only three
letters there were now plainly discernible the two words "third
waterfall," and very near to these was the word "cabin." Below them were
several lines, clearly impressed in the birch film. Slowly, his voice
trembling, Rod read them to his companions.

"We, John Ball, Henri Langlois, and Peter Plante, having discovered gold
at this fall, do hereby agree to joint partnership in the same, and do
pledge ourselves to forget our past differences and work in mutual good
will and honesty, so help us God. Signed,

"JOHN BALL, HENRI LANGLOIS, PETER PLANTE."

At the very top of the map the impression of several other words caught
Rod's eyes. They were more indistinct than any of the others, but one by
one he made them out. A hot blurring film seemed to fall over his eyes
and he felt as though his heart had suddenly come up into his throat.
Wabi's breath was burning against his cheek, and it wa