When all was ready the Indian ordered them to give him a start of five minutes and then to come on with the team. Both boys had, during the trip, taken turns at driving the dogs and, although they still lacked much of Lucky's skill, they could manage very well. The Indian took a course nearer the river than that taken by their visitors of the night so they had no trouble in following his tracks.
"Hope he don't get too far away," Bob said as he gave the order to mush.
They had been on the way a little over an hour when, suddenly, the sound of a rifle shot broke the silence of the forest.
"What's that?" Bob cried as he ordered the dogs to halt.
"There's no doubt about what it was," Jack answered. "The big question is why?"
"Was it Lucky's rifle, do you think?"
"Don't know."
They listened for a moment or two but there was no other shot.
"Maybe he shot at a deer or something," Jack suggested.
"If he did he'll be coming back in a minute because he'll know we won't know what to make of it."