"Henry," said she, "I was followed; but no one knows of this entrance but myself; close it with this shrub. We are watched, and must never meet here again."
"But, dearest," sobbed the youth, "life is not worth living without you; we must escape together this very night."
"I will go with you to the ends of the earth," was the reply. "I loved you long before you came here; I have the gift of second sight. Months ago I saw you coming to me. I have explored the way to the great river. At midnight, meet me under the great cypress, throw this perfume to the dogs and they will not bark;" she handed him a small vial. "I must go; you follow when you hear the King-dove coo; go to your hut." She embraced him, and was gone.
Soon, he heard the signal, and he cautiously raised himself to the upper air, returned to his wigwam, and was soon enjoying rapturous dreams with his head resting where he knew the rays of the moon would shine into his face to awaken him at the appointed time for flight. When he peered anxiously through the entrance of his wigwam at a little before midnight, he was appalled at the sight. A multitude of dogs surrounded the hut, ready, evidently by their yelpings, to bring down upon him the whole tribe of Indians, should he try to escape.
"Alas," thought he, "there are battles with fate which can never be won," and for a moment he seemed paralyzed at his doom. Then came to mind a recollection of the perfume given him by his thoughtful Sunbeam, and he resolved to do or die.
Noiselessly as a shadow, he stepped out, hoping to escape the attention of his canine guards; but in a moment, every cur was on his feet and were about to make the welkin ring, when he threw at the leader the contents of his vial. Instantly, all fawned at his feet, and he hastened to his rendezvous.
Not a sound was heard save an occasional snore from some sleeper, and soon he found his faithful sweetheart in the shadow of the century-old cypress. She quickly slung his rifle across his back, fastened about him the revolver and bowie-knife, bound over her own shoulder a bag of provisions; "follow me," she whispered, and away they sped into the vast primeval forest.
For hours they hastened in silence, then the maiden halted at the edge of a dark morass, and whispered: "Here we leave the earth; I know the way," and they launched themselves into the limbs of the trees, clambered hand over hand for a long, long time; when well-nigh exhausted, they dropped down into a little brook, carefully avoiding any contact with the tell-tale earth.
"Quick," said Sunbeam; "we must hasten up this stream which will conceal our footsteps, to the great river, where we can hide and rest in a great hollow tree which I found there," and on they went with their feeble remnant of strength.
At last, just as the rising sun was dispersing the vapors of night, our elopers swung themselves from the brook into the branches of an overarching hollow tree, helped each other to the bottom of this house not made with hands, and soon slept the slumber of utter exhaustion. It was many hours before tired nature's sweet restorer released these two loving children from its embraces, and then it seemed as if all the fiends from heaven that fell had pealed the banner-cry of hell.