She looked up, her eyes bathed in pearly tears.
“Let the Pale Flower tremble not,” whispered the young brave. “Tecumseh will not return till midnight, and ere he comes Oonalooska will save the White Wolf’s captive. The young hunter lives in the lodge of the great Lone Man.”
Then he turned away, without noticing the look of gratitude Eudora bestowed upon him.
Oh, for the night!
What had it in store for Eudora Morriston—life or death?
CHAPTER IV.
THE EVENTS OF THAT NIGHT.
Slowly the hours of that beautiful autumn day wore away, and the shades of evening seemed a century in making their appearance.
The squaws of the “town” brought a repast to Girty and his band; but Alaska dispatched several warriors to her own wigwam, the capacious larder of which was soon empty for the benefit of herself and wolves.
The terrible animals never took their eyes from Girty, whose distasteful form blocked the doorway of Eudora’s lodge.
“Never fear, girl,” he said, one time, turning upon his prisoner, who sat listlessly upon her couch of skins. “The wolves shan’t eat you. I have great influence over Tecumseh, and the chief will quickly drive the crazy woman to her wigwam.”