In silence another hour passed, and through the crevices our three friends saw the light fade, and the stars come forth. Suddenly many feet approached the prison, and the door was thrown open. A band of four-score warriors, headed by Jim Girty, greeted the eyes of the trio, and soon they were marching to the already blackened trees, at which more than one brave life had gone out amid flames. “See!” cried Girty, thrusting into the hermit’s face, a blade which he had converted into a saw. “Didn’t I say that I would _saw_ your skin off? By heaven! I’m going to do more than that! You shall eat that weakling’s heart;” and the brute’s hand pointed at Mayne Fairfax. “Courage, boy, courage!” whispered the hermit, as the renegade returned to the head of the band. “If they just free my hands a moment, I’ll rid the world of a devil. I’ll make sure work of him, this time.” “I fear not death!” answered the young man. “But the thought that I must leave Eudora in the hands of that demon. Oh, it is terrible!” As the band hurried through the village Hewitt noticed the absence of the women and children, who always showed themselves on such occasions. Regarding their absence he questioned a Shawnee, who walked at his side. “The squaws are at the trees,” was the reply, “and there, too, stand all the warriors, waiting to see the captives die.” The band was near Alaska’s lodge, when, suddenly, the yelp of a wolf, quickly followed by a human voice, half-shriek--half-groan, fell distinctly upon the ears of all. “That means something,” whispered Hewitt to the young hunter, and in the darkness Oonalooska’s finger pressed the giant’s shoulder. The strange cry caused the renegade to start, and he and the Prophet exchanged fearful glances. A moment later the captives were hurried forward on a run! CHAPTER X. THE FATE OF WELL-LAID PLANS. “Newaska is welcome to Alaska’s lodge,” and the mad queen smiled as she led the young sub-chief to a couch of skins. “A moon has faded since he darkened Alaska’s door and her children have looked a long time for him in vain. See how glad they are to meet him!” The brave stroked the shaggy backs of the animals that gathered around, manifesting signs of joy at his return, and the Wolf-Queen looked admiringly on. “When do the pale-faces die?” asked Alaska. “When the Manitou trims his fires,” replied Newaska. “The White Chief has promised to tell Alaska when the hour comes.” “The White chief is a serpent,” hissed the mad-woman. “If he could, he would deceive Alaska, but she will triumph over him at last. Newaska, whence came the giant hunter?” “From his hole in the ground, as Alaska well knows,” was the reply. “Alaska knows that, but whence came he _to_ his hole in the earth?” “Newaska knows not. Why does Alaska ask?” The queen pressed her hands against her temples, and for a long time was silent, while the light of reason illumined her countenance.