An opportunity of attempting the latter was not long wanting.
During the absence of the Big White Man upon some war-party or hunting-excursion, his little sister was taken ill with fever and ague.
She was nursed with the utmost tenderness by the Old Queen; and the wife of the chief, to lull suspicion, and thereby accomplish her purpose, was likewise unwearied in her assiduities to the little favorite.
One afternoon, during the temporary absence of the Old Queen, her daughter-in-law entered the lodge with a bowl of something she had prepared, and, stooping down to the mat on which the child lay, said, in an affectionate accent,-- "Drink, my sister, I have brought you that which will drive this fever far from you." On raising her head to reply, the little girl perceived a pair of eyes peeping through a crevice in the lodge, and fixed upon her with a very peculiar and significant expression.

With the quick perception acquired partly from nature and partly from her intercourse with this people, she replied, faintly,-- "Set it down, my sister.

When this fit of the fever has passed, I will drink your medicine." The squaw, too cautious to use importunity, busied herself about in the lodge for a short time, then withdrew to another, near at hand.
Meantime, the bright eyes continued peering through the opening, until they had watched their object fairly out of sight; then a low voice, the voice of a young friend and playfellow, spoke: "Do not drink that which your brother's wife has brought you.

She hates you, and is only waiting an opportunity to rid herself of you.

I have watched her all the morning, and have seen her gathering the most deadly roots and herbs.