“You were sleeping soundly, good Nekomis,” he said. “But wake. The chief has work for you to do.”
“The spirit of sleep was heavy upon the eyelids of Nekomis, and her ears were dull that she heard not the footsteps of Rushing Water. But she is awake now and ready to do his bidding. There is plenty of maize and venison in the lodge and it shall soon be ready so that the chief may break his fast.”
“Rushing Water is not hungry. It’s not to prepare him food that he has roused Nekomis from her sleep. It is that she may care for his pale-face bride whom he has brought hither.”
The old Indian woman gave a great start, and her eyes followed the direction of his outstretched hand, as he pointed toward the couch upon which Ruth lay. He did not see her features as her eyes rested upon the form of the girl. If he had he would have seen a look of most malignant hate resting there, which could not help having awoke suspicions and alarm in his breast, and made him fearful for the life of her upon whom he had set his affections.
She did not speak, but stood with her eyes fixed upon Ruth, as motionless as a statue.
Again the words of the chief fell but half heeded upon her ear.
“Let Nekomis wait upon her, and see that she has every wish. Let her watch by her side until the morning comes. Let her stir not from the lodge, for she must answer for the maiden with her life.”
Again that look of hate came over the face of the Indian woman. But it was gone in a moment as she answered:
“Nekomis will watch and care for her well. When the chief comes in the morning he shall find her here.”
“It is well,” answered the chief. “The eyes of Rushing Water are heavy for want of sleep. He will lie down in the outer room till the sunlight comes again. The couch of Nekomis will to-night be as soft to him as his own.”