That question seemed a spell that chained her tongue, whilst the crimson flush faded from her cheek. In a few moments her young blood began to course freely in her veins, and the flush of roses warmed her lovely cheeks. She raised her eyes and looked Esock Mayall full in the face, and appeared as lovely as a dream.
"Do you know where that lake is situated? My captors have always refused to inform me. If you do, I will go with you cheerfully, and walk once more upon its lovely shores. Twelve long years, in the dreams of midnight, I have wandered on its shores, and its coves and bays have appeared to me with the white swan with snowy sail and air of pride floating upon its mirror waves; but there is a bitter mingled with the sweet; in those dreams I see my mother pale in death, slain by my captor's hands, and oh, my father, who was absent from his home, where is he? When rosy morn blushed on the concave of the skies I always found myself within the wigwam's prison-walls."
Esock Mayall told her frankly that he neither knew the name or locality of the lake she described, but added, "If you would consent to be my wife and go with me to my forest home, I will endeavor to learn from your captors the name and locality, and take you back to the home of your childhood, once more to ramble on the beautiful shores where you had roamed in childhood's sunny days."
The maiden then replied that she would consult with her father and answer his request to-morrow.
To-morrow came. The chief appeared gloomy and thoughtful. He well knew the undaunted courage, the sure and steady aim of the Mayalls to guide the bullet in its airy track, the power of their strong arms in wielding the tomahawk in battle strife. He had no reason to fear the protection of his daughter, but the thought of parting with the sunny face of one he had ever idolized, whom he had carried for more than a hundred miles on his back through the wilderness when she was a child, because he loved her snowy face and flowing hair—this thought pained him. Long years he had dressed her in robes of beaver during the winter, and made her bed of down; the fawn had yielded her skin to clothe her naked feet, and the brightest wampum had encircled her waist, the most costly jewels had ever sparkled in her ears, and he had employed the most skillful of his race to teach her to border her flowing dress in summer with the quills of the porcupine. He had hunted weeks to capture the swan to deck her hat with snowy plumes to wave in open air and clothe her queenly neck.
"I have acted the part of a kind father," thought he, "and if I give her hand to young Mayall, who would cheer my wigwam in sickness, and smooth the winter of my declining years? Who would ring my funeral knell, and plant the wild rose upon my lonely grave?" No tears flowed to soothe his troubled brain; there was no wanton moisture in his eye. "And then, again, if I should deny my daughter's request I fear the consequences. Mayall had the shrewdness and courage to take her from me, and then, again, I have taken her from her parents and her home, and she might be left unprotected when I am dead and gone."
The chief passed a sleepless night, but rose bright and cheerful in the morning, and informed his daughter, if she chose to leave his wigwam for that of her lover, she might go, with his blessings upon her youthful head; but one thing he must insist upon, in order to preserve harmony, that the tribe that lived in the surrounding forest should be invited to the wedding, and the whole tribe should join in the marriage dance, according to the ancient customs of the Indian tribes.
Young Mayall was informed of the Indian chief's decision. He walked boldly up to the chief, who was seated in his wigwam, and took his daughter by the hand, and said, "When I have received from you the hand of your daughter, and have conformed to the usages of your tribe in all things, we want you to go with us to our forest home, and we will provide for you in old age in the same kind manner you have provided for your daughter. You shall have your choice in the dainty pieces of venison and wild fowls, and find protection under the roof of our cottage home.
'There I'll sit by my bride, where the rushes are green,
While the sun weaveth gold o'er the robes of my queen.'"
In answer to some questions with regard to the home of her childhood, by Esock Mayall, she related the following story of her journey to the great Falls of Niagara, which the chief said would enable me to keep my course through dark forests from the Oneida Lake to the great lakes and rivers towards the setting sun: