He stopped. Rod had turned with a sudden excited cry. He held out his knife, tip upward, and pointed to it with the index finger of his free hand. Wabi's eyes fell on the tip of the blade. Mukoki stared. For a full half minute the three stood in speechless amazement. Clinging to the knife tip was a tiny fleck of yellow, gleaming lustrously in the sun as Rod slowly turned the handle of his weapon.
"Another—gold—bullet!"
The words fell from Wabi's lips very slowly, and so low that they were scarce above a whisper. Mukoki seemed to have ceased breathing. Rod's eyes met the old warrior's.
"What does it mean?"
Wabi had pulled his knife and was digging into the tree. A few deep cuts and the golden bullet lay exposed to view.
"What does it mean?" repeated the white youth.
Again he addressed his question to Mukoki.
"Man who shoot bear—heem no dead," replied the old pathfinder. "Same gun, same gold, same—"
"Same what?"
A strange gleam came for an instant into Mukoki's eyes, and without finishing he turned and pointed across the narrow plain that lay between them and the mysterious chasm which they were to follow in their search for treasure.