Chapter XI: What Will He Do with Her?

Once out into the night, she hurried to another lodge standing but a short distance away. Arrived at the entrance she lifted the curtain and entered without ceremony.

It was so dark within that she could see but little; but she appeared to be familiar with the way, and a few steps brought her to the side of a couch upon which the dim outlines of a form could be seen lying.

Stooping down she whispered a single word: “Minora.”

In an instant the Indian girl was upon her feet confronting her.

“Has the white maiden come?” she demanded.

“The pale-face maiden is lying this moment in the lodge of Rushing Water.”

“When did she come?”

“Only a little ago.”

“She has come to her death. She must not see the light of the morning’s sun. Far better for her that she had died beneath the knife with kindred. Let the fatal draught be given her at once.”

“The hand of Nekomis has already held it to her lips, and she has drained it to the very bottom.”

“The heart of Minora is glad. She will soon be in the spirit-land.”

“She is there already. Even now she is lying on the couch of the chief, as pale and cold as the snow in winter.”

“Nekomis has done her work well. Minora will not forget what she owes to her when _she_ goes to live in the lodge of the chief. Does Rushing Water know that the white maiden has left him forever?”

“No. He’s dreaming of her now in his sleep. He must not know it until the Wizard is told, and has come hither. Minora remembers the words he said. Let her fly to his home among the rocks and tell him that the white maiden is dead.”

“Minora will go like the wind. Her heart is light now, and her feet will be as fleet as those of the deer. In a little time she shall dwell in the lodge of the chief where she has long wished to be.”

The two women passed out into the night, and while Nekomis returned to watch by the side of her lifeless charge, Minora sped away through the forest toward the dwelling-place of the Wizard among the rocks.

Her footsteps in due time brought her to the abode of the Wizard, and the sentinel owl at once gave notice of her approach. No one that ever visited the Wizard, be it by night or day, ever found him asleep, and the Indian girl descried him standing at the entrance of his cavern as though he had not stirred from the spot since her last visit to the place.

She saluted him with profound reverence and then waited for him to speak.

“What has brought the Red Rose to the dwelling-place of the Medicine? Has any of the tribe need of his skill to-night?”

“The Red Rose has come because the great Medicine bade her do so when she could bring tidings of the pale-face maiden.”

“And can she to-night?” asked the Wizard, hurriedly.

“The Red Rose has said as much. The pale-face maiden lies in the lodge of Rushing Water.”

“Has the fatal draught been given her?” he demanded, quickly.

“Nekomis gave it to her with her own hand. The white maiden drank it to the dregs and she now lies cold in death upon the couch of the chief.”

“And does Rushing Water know that he has been robbed of his bride?”

“No. The chief sleeps a deep sleep and will not wake until the rays of the sun are again streaming through the forest. He gave the pale-face maiden to the charge of Nekomis and bade her watch her through the night.”

The Wizard was silent for a moment and then he spoke out hastily:

“Let the Red Rose return at once and say to Nekomis, as soon as the darkness has fled away let her call the chief to the couch of the white maiden, that he may see that her spirit has fled to the Shadowy Land. Let her tell him that she knew nothing of her illness till she saw her lying dead; but supposed that a heavy sleep was upon her. Then will the chief want the Medicine, and he will be close at hand so that he will not have to send hither for him. When the Red Rose has told Nekomis this, let her go to her own lodge. The chief must not know that she has been abroad to-night, or he may think she has had a hand in this.”

“The ears of the Red Rose have heard, and her fleet footsteps shall carry the message to Nekomis.”

She turned at once and bounded away through the forest, anxious to reach the village before the day should begin to break.

The gray light of the morning had begun to show in the east when she summoned Nekomis from her watch beside the couch of the dead.

Hastily telling her the message the Wizard had sent, she retreated to her own lodge, fearful that the chief might awake and find her there.

Nekomis went back to her place beside the couch and looked upon the pallid face of her victim once. Then she turned away, and lifting the curtain that divided the two apartments, she stood beside the still sleeping chief.

Only for a moment did she hesitate to awaken him, and then she touched him on the face, speaking his name at the same moment.

He awoke with a start, and in a moment was upon his feet, while an anxious look took its place upon his countenance.

“What is it that Nekomis wishes?” he said. “No harm has come to the pale-face maiden, for if there has she shall pay for it with her life.”

“Let the chief come out and look upon her. Nekomis thinks that her heart is broken, and that her life has fled away to the spirit-land. She did think that her eyes were closed in slumber, until the light of the morning came, and showed her as pale and cold as the sun when the winter is here.”

Pushing her aside with a force that almost sent her from her feet, the chief sprung into the apartment and to the couch on which lay the lifeless form of her who was so dear to him, and upon whom he had set the highest wish of his heart. One glance at her pallid face told him that Nekomis was not mistaken. Kneeling down by her side he felt that there was no sign of life there. The prize that had cost him so much to obtain, had slipped through his hands when he thought he had it surely in his grasp.

Springing to his feet again, he drew his knife and turned it threateningly upon Nekomis.

“You let her die,” he said, “and you shall follow her to the spirit-land. Had you watched her as the panther does its young, you would have seen when the death-sleep began to grow upon her. But you did not, and now the worthless life of an old squaw shall follow hers.”

Nekomis folded her hands upon her breast and gazed without fear upon him.

“Nekomis is ready to die,” she said. “But let the chief make haste to send her to the spirit-land. Then he can send for the great Medicine, who, it may be, can bring her back to life.”

The hand that held the weapon fell down to his side.

“The great Medicine shall come,” he said. “Nekomis shall live until he has done his best to bring her back to life. If he can not she shall die then.”

He rushed forth from the lodge, and sped away toward the edge of the forest in the direction of the Wizard’s dwelling-place. But he had not gone far before to his joy he saw the Medicine coming toward the village. In a moment he was at his side urging him to hasten his footsteps.

In answer to his inquiries, he told him the state of affairs, and then eagerly demanded if there was a chance to hope.

“The Great Spirit holds the life of the red-man and the white in his hand, and he calleth them away whenever he chooses. The Medicine will do all that he can to bring the pale-face maiden back to life. He knows many charms that work well, and it may be that he can save her. But if the Great Spirit hath taken her away the Medicine can avail her nothing.”

They found Nekomis at the side of the couch when they entered, and she stepped back at their approach. Had the chief been less excited he might have noticed a look of intelligence which passed between them. But he did not, and the Medicine approached and bent above the form of his victim.

For the space of two minutes there was a breathless silence within the lodge.

Then the Wizard straightened up and looked into the face of the chief.

“The Medicine is not sure, but he thinks that the life of the pale-face maiden has gone to the spirit-land. If he had her in his cavern among the rocks he might work some charms upon her that might bring her back to life. The way thither is long, but if the chief will bear her there, he will do his best.”

“The arms of Rushing Water are strong and his steps are fleet. He will bear her to the home of the Great Medicine, if he will do what he can to restore her to him again. The warriors are not yet astir, and it may be well that the tribe knows not of this. Nekomis will keep the secret, or the knife of the chief will find a way to make her do it.”

He gazed threateningly at her as he said this, and then stooping down he raised the form of Ruth in his arms. He shuddered as her lifeless form touched his breast, and then he bore his burden out into the morning air.

There was indeed no one stirring as yet about the village, and they were enabled to gain the cover of the forest without being observed. Thence onward they went as fast as they were able, and by the time the sun was an hour high, they stood before the huge pile of stone that marked the home of the Wizard.

The foot of no savage save his own had ever crossed the threshold, and the chief looked into his face as though to ask if he would be allowed to bear his burden in, and thereby catch a glimpse of its mysteries. But this he evidently would not admit for he held out his arms, saying:

“Let the chief give the pale-face maiden into the keeping of the Medicine. He will work his strongest charms and do all that he can to bring her back to life. Let him come hither on the morrow at this time, and he shall know whether the Great Spirit has claimed her for his own.”

He took the cold and rigid form of Ruth in his arms, and the chief watched him until he had disappeared within the rocks. Then he turned his back upon the spot, and bent his steps once more toward the village.