For some minutes the mad queen busied herself with the fire, when all at once she turned, and, grasping Fairfax’s arm hurried him into the inner apartment. “Let the young pale-face recline upon the wild skins,” said Alaska, pointing to a couch, deep with finely tanned skins, and as soft as down. “Let him rest his limbs until Alaska brings him the meat of the deer, and puts good herbs on his wounds.” Without a word Fairfax obeyed, and the Wolf-Queen glided from the chamber. Beyond the partition the young hunter heard her bustling about, now and then speaking a command to the wolves, that seemed inclined to be obstreperous. At length she returned, and placed some smoking venison before the hunter upon a strip of bark. In a wooden vessel she bore some steaming gruel, which seemed to infuse strength in the hunter’s frame. Mayne Fairfax sat up on the edge of the couch as he discussed the repast, and from him the eyes of the queen were never drawn. “Now,” said Alaska, as the hungry hunter drained the wooden bowl, “Alaska will dress the white-face’s wounds.” That his wounds needed attention Fairfax well knew, for they pained him exceedingly, and falling back upon the couch he motioned to the queen to proceed. Instantly she rose and left the apartment, but soon returned, bearing a cup, containing many kinds of bruised herbs. Kneeling over the hunter she drew aside his hunting-shirt, and displayed the bandages the hermit had placed over the wound made by her barbed shaft. “Ha! ha! ha!” laughed the queen. “Alaska’s shaft struck deep! and the young hunter was very near Kajai Manitou, when the Lone Man shot Lupino.” As she spoke she continued to display the white flesh of the hunter, and suddenly, as the hunting garments crept over his right shoulder, she sprung to her feet with a guttural cry, and stared at the member just exposed to view. 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.