No matter what the extreme of cold—no matter how deep the snow lay upon the ground, Mahaska had every day allotted to herself several hours’ exercise in the open air; her aims with the rifle had grown still more deadly, and all her habits had grown more completely Amazonian than ever.
The savages became impatient for the appearance of the queen. Gi-en-gwa-tah had accompanied the advance guard and the others were eager to follow. The old Indians had come up from the village and stationed themselves near the guard; the women and children crowded in their wake, and all eyes were turned toward the doorway through which the queen must issue from her dwelling. At last there was a slight bustle within; several of the old chiefs appeared upon the threshold, and then Mahaska came out, walking alone with a prouder hearing than of old. She wore a dress of some subdued but rich color, made short to exhibit the leggins of dressed deerskin, and the elaborately wrought moccasins. Over her left shoulder was flung a finely woven blanket, fastened somewhat after the fashion of the togas of the Roman women. The sleeves of her dress fell loosely from her arms, exposing the symmetrical limb and slender hand which gave no sign of their sinewy strength any more than a first glance at the smiling face betrayed the murderous will beneath. A rich coronet of feathers circled her head, fastened in the center by a single diamond star, which flashed ominously with every haughty movement of her person. A pair of costly bracelets glittered on her wrists; the tomahawk thrust in her girdle was veined and dotted with coral, as if she had found special pleasure in the ornaments of her terrible weapon.
She stood upon the threshold and addressed a few terse, eloquent words to the people, then sprung upon her horse, and, giving her rifle to the warrior who was to ride nearest her, took her station at the head of her band. At a signal from her hand they galloped off through the windings of the forest, leaving the crowd behind watching their progress as long as the gleam of a tomahawk, or the sound of a horse’s tread, came back through the morning air.
It was several hours before this band came up with the main body which had halted by Gi-en-gwa-tah’s orders to await Mahaska’s approach. He drew toward Mahaska and saluted her with grave courtesy—the presence of the warriors restraining the slightest expression of affectionate solicitude.
“If Mahaska deems it good,” he said, “the warriors will wait here for the return of the scouts which were sent out before the day broke.”
She bowed her head carelessly, her eyes wandering over the assembled savages as if she took pleasure in their warlike appearance.
“When does the chief expect them back?” she asked.
“Before the sun is an hour higher.”
“It is well; Mahaska will wait,” she replied, haughtily.
She turned away from him but refused to dismount from her horse, controlling his spirited movements with a single touch of her hand. Gi-en-gwa-tah left his station near her side, for a signal then sounded from the distance and the scouts were near at hand. In a short time the chief returned to Mahaska’s side.