The renegade saw the mad queen stagger forward, as the wolf’s teeth sunk into his own throat, and he fell to the earth insensible, with the mad animal drinking his blood. Scarce had the battle between Alaska and the renegade ended, when a loud whoop broke from the forest that crowned the hills that bounded the village on the north, and down among the lodges swarmed a large band of savages, with Tecumseh at their head. Like a whirlwind the great sachem of the Shawnees sprung among the combatants, and his voice was distinctly heard above the din of conflict: “Back!” he cried, thrusting the foremost brave from him. “Back, warriors! Tecumseh speaks!” and his tomahawk towered threateningly above his head. His command, freighted with mystery to his warriors, was instantly obeyed; and he threw himself between the brave little band and the battled red-skins. “Tecumseh returns from the war-path with many scalps!” he said, addressing the Indians. “A pale-face saved Tecumseh’s life when a mad white squaw sought it, and Tecumseh swore to free every white prisoner in the Shawnee village. If the red-men want blood, let them take Tecumseh’s.” A loud shout greeted the conclusion of the chief’s speech, and he turned to the hermit: “The pale-faces are free,” he said. “Tecumseh’s tongue is not forked.” Hewitt, covered with wounds, grasped the Sachem’s hand. “The Lone Man will never forget Tecumseh,” he said, and then he glided to the side of the Wolf-Queen. “Must my doubts remain undissipated?” he cried, as he knelt over the mad one. No. A convulsion passed over the woman’s frame, and her lids unclosed. Instantly the hermit noticed a great change--a new light--in her eyes. Reason, so long lost, had returned! “Oh, God! I thank thee for this moment!” he cried, as her eyes fell upon him. “I shall know all now!” CHAPTER XXI. THE LIGHT OF OTHER DAYS. Yes, at last, reason had resumed its throne, and Alaska was no longer the “mad queen of the Shawnees.” Torches enabled her to gaze long and deeply into the hermit’s face, before her lips parted to utter his name: “William!” He started, and bent nearer her face. The renegade’s hatchet had brought reason back to its own, even as a blow had hurled that peerless queen from her throne. She had forgotten the wild life she had led; and when her eyes fell upon her wolves, a shudder crept over her frame, and she motioned for the animals to be removed from her sight. “Oh! William, I am so glad that you have returned,” she continued. “He did not die--my brother, whom some bad man shot through the window of our cabin.” The hermit’s face lighted up into a joyful smile, and he murmured: “Her brother! Oh, God, I thank thee that I am not a murderer!” “Where is my boy--my Edgar?” and her eyes wandered around, as though they were searching for a particular object. At length they fell upon Mayne. “Edgar!” she cried, stretching forth her hands. “Come to me.”