Coacoochee had loved the sister of his friend longer than he could remember, and believed that Nita entertained a similar feeling toward him, though no words of love had ever passed between them. Now they were to exchange a promise of marriage! The mere thought gave him a more manly and dignified bearing. And then he was to be immediately separated from her. How hard it would be to leave her! Doubly hard, now that she was in sorrow, and suffering the keenest anxiety. Still, if he could only bring back tidings of the safety of her dear ones, or perhaps even return them to her, how happy it would make her! How proud she would be of him!
To Nita the proposition that she should participate in a ceremony of betrothal to Coacoochee, which among the Seminoles is even more solemn and important than that of marriage itself, was startling but not unwelcome. She loved the handsome youth. In her own mind that had long ago been settled. Now she was homeless and alone. Where could she find a braver or more gallant protector than Coacoochee? Besides, was he not going into danger for her sake, and the sake of those most dear to her? Yes, she would give him her promise in the presence of all his people freely and gladly.
Again the sun was near his setting, and all nature was flooded with the golden glory that waited on his departure. The cluster of palmetto-thatched huts nestled beneath tall trees on the shore of blue Ahpopka Lake wore an expectant air, and their dusky inhabitants, gathered in little groups, seemed to anticipate some event of importance.
At length there came the sound of singing from a leafy bower on the outskirts of the village, and then appeared a bevy of young girls wreathed and garlanded with flowers. In their midst walked one whose face, fairer than theirs, still bore traces of recent suffering. She was clad in a robe of fawnskin, creamy white and soft as velvet. Exquisitely embroidered, it was fit for the wear of a princess, and had indeed been prepared for the gentle Allala, King Philip's only daughter, shortly before her death. Now, worn for the first time, it formed the betrothal dress of Nita Pacheco. In the tresses of her rippling hair was twined a slender spray of snow-white star jasmine. She wore no other ornament, but none was needed for a beauty so radiant as hers.
So, at least, thought Coacoochee, as, escorted by a picked body of young warriors, gaudy in paint and feathers, he entered the village at this moment, but from its opposite side, and caught a glimpse of her.
Both groups advanced to the centre of the village and halted, facing each other, before the chief's lodge. There for some moments they stood amid an impressive silence that was only broken by the glad songs of birds in the leafy coverts above them. At length the curtain screening the entrance was drawn aside, and Philip Emathla, followed by two of his most trusted councillors, stepped forth. The head of the aged chieftain was unadorned save by a single roseate feather plucked from the wing of a flamingo. This from time immemorial had been the badge of highest authority among the Indians of Florida, and was adopted as such by the latest native occupants of the flowery land. The chief's massive form was set off to fine advantage by a simple tunic and leggings of buckskin. Depending from his neck by a slender chain was a large gold medallion of Washington, while across his breast he wore several other decorations in gold and silver.
Standing in the presence of his people, and facing the setting sun, the chieftain called upon the group of flower-decked maidens to deliver up their sister, and as Nita stepped shyly forth, he took her by the hand. Next he called upon the group of young warriors to deliver up their brother, whereupon their ranks opened, and Coacoochee walked proudly to where his father stood.
Taking him also by the hand, the old chief asked of his son, in a voice that all could plainly hear, if he had carefully considered the obligation he was about to assume. "Do you promise for the sake of this maiden to strive with all your powers to attain the rank of a warrior? Do you promise, when that time comes, to take her to your lodge to be your squaw? to protect her with your life from harm? to hunt game for her? to see that she suffers not from hunger? to love her and bear with her until the Great Spirit shall call you to dwell with him in the Happy Hunting-grounds?"
"Un-cah (yes)," answered Coacoochee so clearly as to be heard of all. "I do promise."
Turning to Nita, the chieftain asked: "My daughter, are you also willing to make promise to this youth that when the time comes for him to call thee to his lodge, you will go to him? Are you willing to promise that from then until the sun shall no longer shine for thee, till thine eyes are closed in the long sleep, and till the music of birds no longer fill thy ears, Coacoochee shall be thy man, and thou shall know no other? Are you willing to promise that from that time his lodge shall be thy lodge, his friends thy friends, and his enemies thy enemies? Are you willing to promise that from the day you enter his lodge you will love him and care for him, make his word thy law, and follow him even to captivity and death? Consider well, my daughter, before answering; for thy pledged word may not be lightly broken."