Mayne Fairfax looked up at her in amazement, and while he could not fathom her strange action and emotion—for her frame quivered like an aspen’s leaf—he divined the object at which she stared.
That object was nothing but three little moles upon the hunter’s shoulder!
Alaska gazed upon these spots for a moment, when she darted from the lodge, leaving Fairfax at the mercy of her wolves!
She directed her steps toward Tecumseh’s lodge, in which she found the mighty Shawnee partaking of some venison.
He started upon the sudden entrance of the queen, and, almost frightened at her wild look, sprung to his feet.
Without speaking, Alaska clutched his arms, and pointed toward her lodge.
“She has given the young white hunter to the wolves,” was Tecumseh’s mental ejaculation; and, a moment later, the red and white twain were flying toward Alaska’s lodge.
The appearance of their queen frightened the wolves from a meditated attack upon the wounded hunter, and, drawing Tecumseh into the inner room, Alaska pointed to the three moles on the shoulder.
The chief looked at it a moment, and then turned to Alaska with an inquiring look.
“Ha! ha! ha! Long ago Alaska had a little boy,” said the mad queen. “Oh, it was long, long ago; how long Alaska don’t know. Oh, what hurts poor Alaska’s head?” and she covered her temples with her bony, bloodless hands.