They rose to their feet, and, with a word to the wolf, Alaska sprung forward. “Ha! ha! ha!” she laughed, not in anger, but in triumph, “the Great Spirit has guided Oonalooska and the Lone Man to Alaska. The Great Spirit is good to poor Alaska; he guided her little boy to her lodge, and she is happy once more. She will take the pale-face and red-skin back to the strong lodge.” At her bidding, our friends turned toward their prison again. As they walked through the rays of the morn that had just clambered over the eastern hills, Hewitt studied the face of the Wolf-Queen. The scrutiny took him back to the days of his youth, and, in vision, he saw the face that he had kissed at the altar. The Indian walked along, dogged and sullen. When they reached the prison, the guards stared aghast at the scene, and Alaska harshly upbraided them for their negligence. And when the twain found themselves once more beyond the threshold of the hut, an Indian looked down upon them from the hole in the roof! Alaska slowly returned to her lodge, seemingly unconscious of her work. “Beaten by a crazy woman!” hissed a man, as he stepped from the shadow of a lodge not far from the prison structure. “Oh, if I had known that Alaska was abroad--but then--then all her wolves were not with her! Curse her tricks! I wish they were dead! But I’ve arranged things for your digestion, my beaten chappies!” and his eyes fell upon the prison lodge. “I’ve inflamed the vengeful passions of the widowed squaws, and at any hour they may take you from your prison and tear your hearts out. I’ll begin on you, and finish on Alaska and the weakling. Oh, I’m a devil, I am!” And with a fiendish expression darkening his face, he sneaked toward his own lodge. CHAPTER XIII. THE BAFFLED RENEGADE. Jim Girty, the renegade, was elate with anticipated triumph when he left the lodge of the widowed squaws. He had succeeded in inflaming their revengeful passions and their fingers itched to clutch the captives’ throats. “When Tecumseh sleeps, we will come to the strong lodge, bind his braves, take the captives into the dark woods, and burn them with fire,” cried the stalwart Amasqua, one of the stricken chief’s squaws. “We will do more.” “What will Amasqua and her women do?” asked Girty. “We will tear the white weakling from Alaska’s wolves, and burn him with the other captives.” “Amasqua and her women must be wary,” said the renegade, “Alaska’s children bite.” “We will first transfix them with arrows.” “Ah!” ejaculated Girty, “then Amasqua can take the white lout’s heart.” Thus was the plot for the violent death of our three male friends concocted, and it is not to be wondered that the renegade returned to his lodge with heart elate. During the short interval that elapsed between his return and dawn, he slept but little, and when the first streak of day penetrated the village he sprung from his couch.