pleased with the chief's daughter he would
excuse the matter. Esock finally resolved to go forward and brave the
consequences, as his father always had some way to get out of a bad
affair. Their tent was soon taken down, and Mayall and his family
pursued their journey toward the Indian chief's wigwam.

The sun had risen fair, but as they proceeded along their journey dark
clouds began to curtain the heavens. The wind roared among the forest
trees, the lightning flashed from the storm-cloud, the thunders rolled
through the forest with deafening roar, splitting and shivering the
forest trees, whilst the rain at intervals seemed to descend in
torrents. Just as Mayall and his family emerged from the thick woodlands
into a small clearing, where the Indian chief's wigwam stood, he saw the
chief and his daughter stand looking out of the door, for Mayall's
approach had been heralded by an Indian runner the previous day, and
they were prepared to receive him. As they came into the clearing there
was a lull in the storm for a few moments, and the chief's daughter
rushed forward to welcome Mayall to their home. The words had scarcely
dropped from her lips before the lightning began to crash among the
trees and the storm beat down fearfully, and she glided back to the
wigwam with speed that seemed like the flight of a bird.

As she approached Mayall, Esock Mayall was standing in a position that
brought her in full view from her head to her feet. He was struck with a
strange, mysterious spell. Her neck was as pure as the alabaster, her
bosom as white as ivory, her soft blue eyes like liquid orbs adorning
the face of beauty, whilst her fair hair flowed in graceful ringlets
upon her neck and shoulders. Her form was simply perfect; her breath was
like the eglantine, and her cheek wore the morning blush of the
moss-rose. She was a perfect Cleopatra, all but the royal crown, and
that was supplied with plumes--the royal crown of the Indian Queen of
the Poorest.

Esock Mayall stood as one amazed as he viewed the beautiful figure
before him, dressed in a neat flowing dress that came down to her feet,
covered with wampum and such beautiful moccasins, embroidered with the
quills of the porcupine, with a border of the same around the bottom of
her flowing dress. Had he seen one of the fairies of olden times, a
fabled goddess of the sylvan shade, or had he seen a human being in this
image of beauty that appeared before his father and welcome