He awoke with a start, and in a moment was upon his feet, while an anxious look took its place upon his countenance.
“What is it that Nekomis wishes?” he said. “No harm has come to the pale-face maiden, for if there has she shall pay for it with her life.”
“Let the chief come out and look upon her. Nekomis thinks that her heart is broken, and that her life has fled away to the spirit-land. She did think that her eyes were closed in slumber, until the light of the morning came, and showed her as pale and cold as the sun when the winter is here.”
Pushing her aside with a force that almost sent her from her feet, the chief sprung into the apartment and to the couch on which lay the lifeless form of her who was so dear to him, and upon whom he had set the highest wish of his heart. One glance at her pallid face told him that Nekomis was not mistaken. Kneeling down by her side he felt that there was no sign of life there. The prize that had cost him so much to obtain, had slipped through his hands when he thought he had it surely in his grasp.
Springing to his feet again, he drew his knife and turned it threateningly upon Nekomis.
“You let her die,” he said, “and you shall follow her to the spirit-land. Had you watched her as the panther does its young, you would have seen when the death-sleep began to grow upon her. But you did not, and now the worthless life of an old squaw shall follow hers.”
Nekomis folded her hands upon her breast and gazed without fear upon him.
“Nekomis is ready to die,” she said. “But let the chief make haste to send her to the spirit-land. Then he can send for the great Medicine, who, it may be, can bring her back to life.”
The hand that held the weapon fell down to his side.
“The great Medicine shall come,” he said. “Nekomis shall live until he has done his best to bring her back to life. If he can not she shall die then.”