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.