e families of men.

Conspicuous among them all was the wigwam of Ash-te-o-lah. The hand of
Minaree was visible in the tasteful arrangement of a few simple
ornaments about the door, and the trailing of a white flowering vine
over its walls, which fell in luxuriant festoons, or floated in feathery
pensiles on every side.

Minaree stood in the door of the wigwam, watching the retreating form of
her lord, as his light canoe swept down with the current of the river,
till it was lost in the distance, and then pensively, and as if
unconsciously to herself, resumed her solemn chant, weaving the while a
wreath of her wild flowering vine.

He has gone to the chase, my brave hunter has gone--
He will not return in the moonlight, or morn;
Minaree shall look out at the cabin door,
But her bold brave hunter shall come no more;
There's a cloud in her wigwam--a fire in her brain,
For her warrior hunter shall ne'er come again.

Gently and placidly flowed the Katahba--every tree and shrub mirrored in
its beautiful waters. Not a sound disturbed the perfect stillness; not
even the hum of the cricket, or the song of the bird. It seemed an utter
solitude. Then a light canoe was seen slowly gliding down the stream. A
noble looking Indian was standing in it, erect and tall, with his paddle
poised, as if wrapped in meditation, or unwilling to disturb the quiet
and charm of the silence. It was a scene to awaken a sense of poetic
beauty, even in the mind of an untutored savage. It thrilled the soul of
Ash-te-o-lah, and held him some moments in admiring contemplation.
Suddenly starting from his unwonted reverie, he rounded a jutting
promontory, and moored his skiff, carefully concealing it amid the
overhanging shrubs.

There was something surpassingly graceful and majestic in the figure of
this noble son of the forest. Formed by nature in her most perfect
mould, tall, sinewy, athletic, yet with every feature and every limb
rounded to absolute grace, he was a fine subject for a painter or
sculptor. His dress consisted of a beautiful robe, gracefully flung over
one shoulder, and confined at the waist by a richly ornamented belt. His
hair was wrought into a kind of crown, and ornamented with a tuft of
feathers. Equipped with bow and quiver, he seemed intent on game; and
yet one might have imagined, from his keen glance and cautious manner,
that he expected a foe in ambush.

Ash-te-o-lah was soon on the track of the dee