Thus we were literally swallowed up in that terrible abyss of rock and snow, and the weird feeling of the place affected even our dogs, who growled and shivered. All was dead silent, except for the rush and howl of the wind, which seemed to shoot down through those narrow pits of darkness, until we could with difficulty stand against it. From somewhere ahead droned out the long, eerie howl of a wolf, drifting to us on the wind. I saw Swift Arrow, ahead of me, pause and throw up his head; then into the teeth of the gale he cast an answering howl—one as perfect as the other, which drew a sharp yelp from the dogs. By this time I comprehended how on board the "Lass" Radisson had so amazed and shamed us all, and had even learned a little of the mimicry myself.
It was fearful to drive ahead through that gale, which sent the icy particles of snow against us like tiny knives, and to know that outside and above, the night was silent and windless. Indeed, there was never any rest within the Ghost Hills, and I could well realize why the Indians dreaded and avoided them.
By now I was more than ever sure that we were not only on the wrong track, but that this Mighty One was sent by the foul fiend to lead us astray and into danger of the worst. The passage of those hills was terrible to the body and to the soul. As we drew deeper into the darkness, weird echoes were set flying by our shoes and the wind and the voices of us. These were not borne past, but seemed to eddy up overhead, as though some flux of the wind caught and whirled them back toward us.
The Keeper had been in the lead, Radisson following. Of a sudden, as we came to a space somewhat lighter, I saw that the chief had vanished! I uttered a single cry that rebounded about in mad echoes, but Swift Arrow gripped me as I turned in terror.
"Peace! Ta-cha-noon-tia has but gone ahead to see what lies before."
With the calm words my fear passed, and I was ashamed. After all, we were in the hand of God, and if He willed that evil should come to us, then it would come. So I quelled my terror and pressed on after the sledge. A moment more, and the passage was done with.
Turning the corner of a sharp cliff, we found ourselves out in the night again, standing on a ridge of bare black rock. At our side stood The Keeper. Behind towered those terrible cliffs, but ahead was a little forested basin, alight with the fires of the sky and stretching ahead to hills in the distance. Radisson turned to the Mohawk with a question.
"My father, the tracks of the Mighty One are lost and I do not see them. But below us are the lodges of warriors."
I looked again at the stretch of wooded country. Sure enough, I could see black groups of something that might well be huts or lodges, but there was no sign of fire to cheer us.
"The Mighty One has led us well," shouted Radisson triumphantly. "We have arrived before them we seek! Let us rest, brothers, and make merry, for we are masters of the stronghold of The Pike, and his fate is in our hands!"