For answer, Johnny threw back his robe, disclosing the stout steel manacles on his ankles.
The hunchback’s reaction was startling. Wrenching open the door with his powerful hands, he prepared to drag Johnny from the cabin to his sled.
With a sigh Johnny told him that the other boy must go too. The Indian understood. Swiftly, silently he lifted the second boy and carried him to the sled. Then, dragging forth Johnny’s robe, he wrapped it about them.
At a barely audible call from Johnny, the five dogs came bounding from the cabin. Then they were away.
The Indian made no effort to hitch Johnny’s dogs to the sled. There was no need. His own tireless team was still fit for the trail. In the North both dogs and men are accustomed to long hours of rest and long days of toil.
So, with no sound coming from the darkened cabin where, relying on their false security, the mysterious ones slept on, the sled glided away into the night.
For an hour they followed the shore of the lake. Then turning sharply to the left, they climbed a steep hill to go gliding along a ridge. Mile after mile of glistening white had passed beneath their runners when at last they went tobogganing down a steep incline to tumble all in a heap at the bottom. And that bottom was the frozen surface of still another lake.
Fifteen minutes more and, just as dawn was breaking, they found themselves facing a brown wall of rock. In the center of this wall was a narrow opening. Into this opening they were invited to crawl.
“D—do you think it’s safe t—to go in there?” D’Arcy Arden looked up at Johnny. With their feet still bound together, they were obliged to crawl on hands and knees.
“Safest thing in the world.” Johnny prepared to lead the way. “I have one rule for every land; do as the natives do. If a native says a thing is safe, you may be sure it is.