the
council wigwam.

The wedding has been celebrated with great rejoicings; the Indians, who
have indulged largely, many of them to excess, in the fire-water of the
palefaces, retire to their huts, to sleep off the effects of their
libations, and soon the village is sunk in silence and repose. We
extract the chapter that follows:--

It was past midnight, and the village and its environs were buried in
profound repose, when a man, carrying a naked sabre under his arm,
advanced with stealthy steps from the shore, towards the Miko's wigwam.
He reached the trees in front of the dwelling; and after casting a
cautious and searching glance around him, was about to retrace his
steps, when, with the quickness of light, a noose of buffalo hide
encircled his neck, and he was thrown to the ground with a shock so
sudden and irresistible, that it seemed caused by a supernatural rather
than a human power. His sabre fell from his hand, before he had time to
raise it to his neck and sever the noose; and so rapidly and silently
did all this take place, that a group of armed men, stationed between
the creek and the cottage, at scarcely forty paces from the latter, were
perfectly unaware of what occurred. Now, however, a yell that might have
roused the dead from their graves was heard; the door of the council
wigwam, in which the bridal-bed of Canondah and El Sol had been spread
was burst furiously open; and by the flash of several muskets, just then
fired from the shore, a powerful figure, bearing something heavy in its
arms, was seen to rush out and plunge into the neighbouring thicket.
Other cries, proceeding apparently from a thousand throats, multiplied
themselves in every direction, behind hedge and bush, over land and
water, in accents as wild and fierce as if the demons of hell had been
unchained, and were rejoicing in a nocturnal revel. Simultaneously with
this uproar, a regular platoon fire commenced upon the shore, and blue
flames issued from various cottages of the peaceful Indian hamlet,
rapidly increasing till they burst out into a bright red blaze, that
spread hissing and crackling over wall and roof. In the midst of this
frightful tumult another shout was uttered, resembling the roar of the
lion when he rages in his utmost fury. It was the war-whoop of El Sol.

The noble Mexican had been lulled to sleep by the night-song of his
bride, when the well-known yell of his tribe awakened him. Clasping his
beloved wife with one