“Alaska’s wolf,” said Eudora, turning to Fairfax. “The poor woman will be inconsolable now.” “Oonalooska wanted to shoot the queen, but I covered the flint with my hand in time to save her life. I could not witness the killing of that poor mad-woman, though if we ever fall into her hands we will receive no mercy.” “Her wolves tore Oonalooska’s venison once,” hissed the chief, who stood beside the hermit, and he added, in an undertone. “Some day when Lone Man is abroad, Oonalooska’s flint will not be covered by a pale hand.” “Do you think our enemies will return?” asked the young Virginian, looking into the hermit’s face. “Yes. Already I believe that Tecumseh’s spies lurk in the vicinity, and, ere long, the chief will return with a large force, which can not be successfully resisted. I know Tecumseh as few men know him. I have watched him grow to manhood, unforgiving and vindictive.” “In view of our situation, then, what do you propose?” questioned Fairfax, with eagerness. “Flight--to Chillicothe,” was the reply. “Not by day?” “No; to the contrary. We are not far from the river, which I believe will not be guarded to-night. From this cave leads a passage which terminates not a great ways from the river. That passage I have never had occasion to use, having never, until this day, been besieged. Above the termination of that passage, the crust has not been broken. We will use that to-night, and near dawn, no accidents intervening, we will be beyond danger. My boy, can you crawl to the opening of the passage? Thence we will assist you to the boat.” “Yes,” cried Fairfax, rising with a mighty effort, that sent a thousand painful arrows throughout his frame, “I feel strong again--the events of the last twenty-four hours have made me a giant.” Hewitt shook his head doubtingly, and faintly smiled, as a sense of giddiness forced the young hunter upon the couch again. “Tecumseh will not return before nightfall,” continued the hermit, after a brief silence, “and while they besiege the cave, we will be flying up the river to Chillicothe--which, for us, means safety.” Then the strange man drew a repast from his store, and the victuals were discussed with a relish, and conversation in which they tried to forget their perilous situation. Slowly the day waned, and, at length, a growl from the mastiff, who lay at the brush-burdened door, told the hunted that an Indian was near. Then Oonalooska disappeared in the subterranean passage, already used during the progress of our romance; but presently returned with the information that several spies were in the wood, at the mouth of the cave. The hour for escape had arrived.