CHAPTER XVII.

THE CONFERENCE ON THE KNOLL.

For many minutes silence reigned between the two watchers upon the knoll, when the hermit suddenly laid his cold hand on Oonalooska’s bare arm.

“What sees the Lone Man?” questioned the Shawnee.

“An Indian; look yonder!” and Hewitt directed Oonalooska’s gaze to the right of the spot they occupied.

The full-orbed goddess of the night was slowly scaling the eastern horizon, and against her disk, in striking bas-relief, appeared the form of a man. He stood in a listening attitude, but not alone, for beside him stood a huge animal, resembling in the mellow light, a wolf. The twain were scarce twenty feet from the white man and his red companion!

“It must be Okalona,” whispered Oonalooska, after surveying the man before them, “for he came at Oonalooska’s owl hoot.”

A second note rose from Oonalooska’s throat and he whispered:

“_White hunter._”

The person addressed turned abruptly upon the chief.

“Who calls?” he cried.

“Oonalooska,” was the response, and the eyes of the King of the Wolves fell upon the Shawnee.

“Back Letheto!” he cried, striking the wolf at his side, slowly advancing upon Oonalooska, who awaited him, with a ready knife.

“White hunter is welcome,” said Oonalooska with a smile. “Let the chief lead him to the Lone Man.”

The Shawnee guided Fairfax forward, and they soon stood before the hermit.

“Boy!” cried Hewitt, springing to his feet, and griped the young man’s hand. “Have you turned Shawnee, too?”

“Yes,” answered Fairfax, glancing at the animal crouched at his feet. “I am the son of Alaska, a Shawnee, and the King of the Wolves.”

“Adopted, with the freedom to go and come?” said Hewitt.

“Yes, in every sense, a Shawnee.”

Then, in brief mention, Fairfax related his adventures in the Shawnee village, since his capture, and when he had finished the hermit spoke.

“It is strange that that mad-woman should recognize you as her son by the mole on your shoulder,” he said; “but, we must not talk of that now. You must be in her lodge before dawn, and day is not far distant. We must talk fast. In the shape of Okalona, the Medicine-man of the Shawnees, you will find a valuable assistant. He hates Tecumseh and Girty, and they hate him. Go to him to-morrow. Tell him that you were sent to his lodge by his son, and all will be well. He deals in drugs that put men to sleep.”

“And in leaves that send men to the Manitou’s lodge,” said Oonalooska, as he drew his necklace of bear-claws over his head. “Take this to Okalona,” the chief continued, extending the necklace to the young man, “and say that Oonalooska says: ‘Help the pale-face, for Oonalooska’s heart.’”

“Work swiftly but surely, boy, and when darkness comes again meet us here. If your plans promise success, Oonalooska and I will enter the town, and, all together, we will do a work that will never be forgotten by the Shawnee nation.”

Mayne Fairfax’s heart beat with joy.

“I will work surely,” he said. “With the freedom of the village, nothing prevents success.”

Having listened to the sage advice, Mayne Fairfax turned to go, when the hermit wrung the young man’s hands, and watched him disappear beyond the brow of the knoll. He walked through the silent street of the Shawnee town, and into the double lodge, untouched by Alaska’s wolves. Already the animals knew their “_king_.” In their midst reclined Alaska fast asleep, and Fairfax gained the inner apartment without disturbing her.