“Who could it have been?” Patsy asked.
“Don’t know,” said Marian. “Whoever it was, we must find them and thank them.”
This task she found to be more difficult than she had supposed. There had doubtless been tracks left by the strange deliverer, but these had already been trampled by the deer. Search as they might, they could find no trace of the person who had fired the shots. Mute testimony of his skill as a marksman, two dead wolves lay on the snow close to the spot where the defensive circle had been formed.
“What did you make of that?” Marian asked at last in great bewilderment. “Terogloona, where could they have gone?”
“Canok-ti-ma-na” (I don’t know), Terogloona shook his head soberly.
One of Marian’s sleds had been left at the edge of the forest. Upon returning to this, they experienced another great surprise. Lying across the sled was a rifle, and in a pile beside it were five boxes of cartridges.
“A rifle!” exclaimed Marian, seizing it and drawing it from his leather sheath. “A beauty! And a new one!”
The two girls sat down on the sled and stared at one another in speechless silence.
Terogloona and Attatak soon joined them.
“It was the Indian, the one we saved from starving!” exclaimed Patsy at last, “I just know it was.”