The old woman arose and turned away from the couch. The moment for which she had waited, had come. The fatal draught which the Wizard had prepared could be given now.
Her hand trembled as she took the vessel that contained it, and brought it forward to the couch. Ruth rose up and took it from her hand. Her mouth was parched and dry, and she drained it eagerly to the very dregs. Could she but have seen the look upon the face of the Indian woman she would have dropped it as a thing of death. A look so exultant, and so full of gratified rage would have struck terror to her very soul.
But she saw it not; handing back the vessel to her attendant, she sunk down again upon the couch, where she lay as motionless as one dead.
Not once thereafter did she move so much as a hand; but sunk into a deep, unbroken slumber, from which no sound or word could have awakened her. The old Indian woman sat by her side with her sharp, snake-like eyes fixed upon her face. Little by little her breath grew fainter, until at last it seemed to have left forever her pallid lips. The fatal draught had done its work, and she lay as cold and motionless as though formed of ice.
Then with an exultant look upon her face, the Indian woman arose, and with noiseless steps glided forth from the lodge.
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.