He felt deeply interested in that insane woman!
During the day he busied himself in forming the acquaintance of Alaska’s wolves. At first the animals were inclined to shyness and war; but their queen drew them to Mayne Fairfax’s side, and at last they acknowledged their king—coming at his beck and call.
“After three more sleeps,” said Alaska, when the shades of night were gently falling around the village, “Co Hago will be proclaimed King of the Wolves, in the presence of the entire Shawnee nation. Then he can come and go when and where he pleases, and none—not even the hated White Chief—dare cross his path.”
“Then,” murmured our hero, “I can work, and I will snatch my friends from their perilous situations, upon my life.”
He retired early to the inner apartment, and an hour later a hand roused him from slumber.
He started to his feet and confronted Alaska.
“Hist!” she cried with finger upon lip.
A chorus of yells penetrated the lodge.
“The mad squaws seek the captives’ lives!” cried Alaska, seizing Mayne’s arm, and darting from the wigwam. “Alaska will let them burn the prisoners, for the blood of Nethoto and Sagasto cry aloud from the forest.”
As she uttered the last words she sprung forward in the direction from whence floated the hell of mad cries.