“Alaska’s eyes were not shut,” the Wolf-Queen replied, not satisfied—as her manner indicated—with Newaska’s artful answer. “Alaska will go abroad—for the White Chief may forget to tell me when they lead the captives to the trees.”
“Let Alaska remain,” cried the deputed poisoner, springing to his feet and grasping the mad queen’s arm. “If Alaska will retire to her sleeping room, Newaska will go and discover when they lead the prisoners forth. The White Chief would be angry, were our queen to seek him ere he put on his torture dress. Will Alaska obey Newaska?”
“Yes,” was the reply, and the fire in her eyes suddenly went out.
“Alaska will remain in her sleeping-room till Newaska returns. He can take her wolves with him if he chooses. They will follow Newaska.”
“Newaska will take the wolves,” said the brave, as Alaska disappeared beyond the skin partition that divided the two apartments. “But first he will put a collar on Letheto.”
The treacherous red-skin possessed the Wolf-Queen’s entire confidence, and, under pretext of collaring Letheto, he prepared for his work.
He first stepped to the door and heard the tramp of the band that bore the doomed captives to the fatal trees that crowned the hills above the “town.”
“Newaska must to work,” he muttered, “and when the White Chief passes the wigwam he will join him.”
He drew the meat from his pouch, and threw it before the mad queen’s wolves. With one accord, the lupine band dashed for it, and one of the largest secured it. The effect began immediately, for the wolf retired to one corner of the room and laid down. Another piece of meat quickly followed the first, and a second wolf slunk from the gang, never to rejoin it again.
Not a sound came from the apartment to which Alaska had retired, and the prisoner congratulated himself on his success.