"Give them the whip! Drive them on!"
The Cree turned, unwinding his long lash.
"Nipoo-win Ooyoo!" he muttered again.
The whip cracked over the backs of the huskies, the end of it stinging the rump of the lead-dog, who was master of them all. A snarl rose for an instant in his throat, then he straightened out, and the dogs lurched forward. Mukoki ran ahead, so that the lead-dog was close at his heels.
"What did he say?" asked David.
In the gloom the Missioner made a gesture of protest with his two hands. David could no longer see his face.
"He is superstitious," he growled. "He is absurd. He would make the very devil's flesh creep. He says that old Beaver has given the death howl. Bah!"
David could feel the other's shudder in the darkness. They went on for another hundred yards. With a low word Mukoki stopped the team. The dogs were whining softly, staring straight ahead, when David and the Missioner joined the Cree.
Father Roland pointed to a dark blot in the night, fifty paces beyond them. He spoke to David.
"There is Tavish's cabin. Come. We will see."