“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.”