by Hervey Keyes
CHAPTER VII.
Their household goods were few, and those of the plainest kind. Theyloaded all their goods, with their children and Mrs. Mayall, into thewagon, and Mayall and his son Esock performed the journey on foot, eachone carrying his gun in readiness for any emergency, with Mayall inadvance to pilot them through the forest. In their journey they had toford streams and climb with difficulty the hills.
Not meeting with anything of importance, the fourth day they encampedwithin five miles of the Indian chief's wigwam. After feasting on someducks they had killed along their road, they all laid down to rest fromthe toils of their journey, and all but Esock slept soundly. He wasmeditating on what course to pursue, and what excuse he should make onarriving at the Indian chief's wigwam, to excuse himself in so grave amatter. Mayall, his father, had gone thus far in match-making withouthis consent, and now he wished the whole affair could be passed bywithout seeing the Indian chief or his daughter.
In the morning Esock Mayall resolved to take a different route from hisfather and the rest of the family, and pass the Indian chief's wigwamwithout being seen, and informed his father of his resolution. Mayallthen told Esock that he was ashamed of having a coward in his family;said he must go boldly to the chief's wigwam, where they would all stayover night, and if he was not pleased with the chief's daughter he wouldexcuse the matter. Esock finally resolved to go forward and brave theconsequences, as his father always had some way to get out of a badaffair. Their tent was soon taken down, and Mayall and his familypursued their journey toward the Indian chief's wigwam.
The sun had risen fair, but as they proceeded along their journey darkclouds began to curtain the heavens. The wind roared among the foresttrees, the lightning flashed from the storm-cloud, the thunders rolledthrough the forest with deafening roar, splitting and shivering theforest trees, whilst the rain at intervals seemed to descend intorrents. Just as Mayall and his family emerged from the thick woodlandsinto a small clearing, where the Indian chief's wigwam stood, he saw thechief and his daughter stand looking out of the door, for Mayall'sapproach had been heralded by an Indian runner the previous day, andthey were prepared to receive him. As they came into the clearing therewas a lull in the storm for a few moments, and the chief's daughterrushed forward to welcome Mayall to their home. The words had scarcelydropped from her lips before the lightning began to crash among thetrees and the storm beat down fearfully, and she glided back to thewigwam with speed that seemed like the flight of a bird.
As she approached Mayall, Esock Mayall was standing in a position thatbrought her in full view from her head to her feet. He was struck with astrange, mysterious spell. Her neck was as pure as the alabaster, herbosom as white as ivory, her soft blue eyes like liquid orbs adorningthe face of beauty, whilst her fair hair flowed in graceful ringletsupon her neck and shoulders. Her form was simply perfect; her breath waslike the eglantine, and her cheek wore the morning blush of themoss-rose. She was a perfect Cleopatra, all but the royal crown, andthat was supplied with plumes--the royal crown of the Indian Queen ofthe Poorest.
Esock Mayall stood as one amazed as he viewed the beautiful figurebefore him, dressed in a neat flowing dress that came down to her feet,covered with wampum and such beautiful moccasins, embroidered with thequills of the porcupine, with a border of the same around the bottom ofher flowing dress. Had he seen one of the fairies of olden times, afabled goddess of the sylvan shade, or had he seen a human being in thisimage of beauty that appeared before his father and welcomed him to herhome and then glided away to her father, the Indian chief?
Esock Mayall no longer seemed to notice the flashes of lightning, theroaring of the thunder, nor the pelting of the storm, but kept his eyeupon the departing form of that beautiful angel amid the rushing of thetempest. Could this be the chief's daughter, her face as white as a pondlily with the rose's blush upon her cheek and her eyes as blue as theviolets of May, with her flaxen hair flowing in unbound ringlets uponher shoulders? No, never. No Indian blood ever flowed in the veins of abeing so white and fair. It must be a phantom of his bewilderedimagination. He was sure that when he reached the wigwam he should seethe chief's daughter with her red skin, long, straight black hair andsnaky eyes, just as he had pictured her in his imagination ever sincehis father first mentioned her name.
A few moments more and they were unloading from their canvas-coveredwagon before the Indian chief's wigwam, with the same fair being he hadseen retire so hastily to the wigwam amid the fury of the storm, flyingabout, leading the children into the wigwam and kindly assisting them indrying their wet garments; for the fury of the storm had passed by.After Mayall and his son had taken care of their team they walked to thewigwam, Mayall leading the way, whilst his son, Esock, walked timidlybehind, straining every nerve lest he should lose his presence of mindwhen the chief's daughter appeared before him. He entered the wigwam.Curiosity stood on tiptoe.
The Indian chief welcomed Mayall and his son to his most amplehospitality, and then, turning to the fairy queen that stood near him,he said he was pleased with having an opportunity of making EsockMayall, the son of his old friend, acquainted with his adopted daughter.The maiden stopped gently forward and took young Mayall by the hand. Thesecret was out. The vision of beauty constantly appeared before him, bynight and by day.
The Indian chief had taken this young squaw, as he called her, aprisoner in one of his excursions into Canada during the war of theRevolution, and adopted her into his family on account of her comelinessand natural graces.
Their clothes were soon dried by a warm fire, and they all sat down to asumptuous dinner of venison and wild fowls, which was a favorite dishwith the Mayalls, and pleased them more than the most sumptuous feastthat could be set upon the President's table at the White House. Afterdinner the long pipe was handed round, each taking a few puffs, whilstthe blue smoke curled from the emblem of peace,
Whilst the forms of love are round us And our hearts with pleasure glow.
The eyes of the lovely Blanche rested on the form of Esock Mayall, whenhis first glance met hers, which was often and still oftener as the rosebloomed brighter on her cheek, her breath grew quicker, her smile moreradiant, and the first blue flower of love bloomed into fondness for theyoung hunter, as he gazed upon her rounded waist, her snowy neck,ornamented with a shower of curls that fell loosely upon her shoulders.
