“Let the chief prepare. The Wolf Demon is near.”
CHAPTER XXVIII.
A TERRIBLE ENCOUNTER.
Quietly the Indian chief drew the keen-edged scalping knife from his girdle. Every muscle in his massive frame was nerved for the coming contest.
The little fire, now burnt down to a mass of glowing embers, but faintly lighted up the gloom of the wigwam.
The Medicine Man turned his back to the chief, slowly disengaged himself from the huge blanket wrapped around him, and then held it up in the air.
The blanket concealed the form of the Medicine Man from the eyes of Ke-ne-ha-ha.
Darker and darker grew the gloom.
“Is the chief ready to see the Wolf Demon?” asked the Medicine Man, his voice vibrating with a strange accent.
“Yes,” replied the Shawnee warrior, slowly and undauntedly.