“Co Hago is worthy to be king of the wolves,” she cried, throwing her arms around Mayne’s neck. “Alaska saw him face the White Shawnee; but she did not go to his side with her children, for she saw that he would fight nobly, and conquer the bad white brothers.” Mayne smiled at her words, and entered the lodge. She followed, and threw herself upon the couch. “Does Alaska know the Lone Man?” asked the young hunter, recollecting the emotion and singular words of the hermit when he parted with him on the knoll, the preceding night. “The Lone Man is as a star to Alaska,” was the strange reply; “she can see him, but her arms are too short.” The reply furnished food for the young man’s reflection. It was evident to him, at least, that Alaska had known Hewitt in times when insanity was a stranger to her poor brain; but now, memory served her not--memory had deserted her with reason; but at intervals, as the reader has seen in the course of our romance, memory revisited her; but these visits were as fleeting as a sunbeam. Again and again Mayne questioned her regarding the hermit, and her replies served to strengthen his belief, as given above. Perhaps she was the hermit’s wife, at least he thought that Hewitt half believed and feared thus, and an inward monitor told him that the coming night would behold the lifting of mystery’s curtain. But he never dreamed the true and terrible revealment of that mystery. He remained in the double wigwam until the dawn of twilight, when he left it unquestioned by Alaska. Instead of making his way toward the knoll, where Oonalooska and the hermit awaited, with mingled anxiety and impatience, his appearance, he sauntered toward Eudora’s prison. Before the door sat the two guards, indulging one of their passions by gambling with little pebbles, after the sportive manner of American children, in the game called “Hull-gull handful.” The Indians were oblivious to all surrounding objects, and therefore the young man glided to the rear of the lodge unnoticed. In a few words he acquainted Eudora with the plans, so far as he knew them, of rescue, and the maiden clasped her hands and prayed for the success of the attempt. It made Mayne Fairfax happy to fill her heart with hope, and, elate with anticipated triumph, he left her, and hurried toward the knoll. A few minutes later he stood before the twain, and without accident the trio gained the old Medicine’s lodge. CHAPTER XX. THE BLOODY MEETING. The flying moments seemed endless to Eudora Morriston, who sat in her lodge waiting for the coming of her rescuers. Hour after hour flitted past, and the fearful captive listened in vain for her lover’s step. The two guards, tired of gambling, stood like statues before the birchen portals of the strong wigwam, their ears catching every sound, and their vigilant eyes noting every dark form that crossed their line of vision.