Thus attired, Abomico marched toward the tent, where Meena dwelt with her father. Never was a beau of one of our cities, new from the hands of the tailor, more delighted with his appearance, than was this Indian dandy, as he drew near to the tent, and waited at the door for the maiden to appear. “If she can resist my charms now,”—thought Abomico,—“she must be bewitched indeed!”
Meena soon appeared—and the chief spoke to her again, begging her to become his wife. “Come!” said he—“go with me, and be the singing bird in my nest. I am a great warrior. I have slain forty brave men in battle. I have feasted on the flesh, and drunk the warm blood, of my enemies. I have the strongest arm, the truest hand, the swiftest foot, the keenest eye, of any chief in the mighty tribe of the Senecas.”
“It is not true!” said Meena.
“Not true?” said the chief, in great anger and astonishment. “Who dares to match himself with Abomico? Who can vie with him in the race? Who can shoot with him at the mark? Who can leap with him at the bar?”
“Hourka!” said Meena.
“It is a lie,” said Abomico; though I must say, that he meant no offence—because, among the Indians, such a speech was not a discourtesy.
“Nay—nay,” said Meena—“I speak the truth; you have come to ask me to be your wife. Hourka has made the same request. You shall both try your power in the race and the leap, and at the bow. He who shall be the master in the trial, may claim Meena for his slave.”
This proposition was gladly accepted, and Hourka being informed of it, a time for the trial was appointed. The people of the village soon heard what was going on; and, as the Indians are always fond of shows and holidays, they rejoiced to hear of the promised sport.
The day of the trial arrived. In a grassy lawn, the sport was to be held; and here the throng assembled. It was decreed by the chiefs that the first trial should be with the bow. A large leaf was spread out upon a forked branch of a tree, and this was set in the ground, at the distance of about fifty yards. Abomico shot first, and his arrow pierced the leaf, within half an inch of the centre. Hourka followed, and his arrow flew wide from the mark, not even touching the leaf. He seemed indeed careless, and reckless. But, as he turned his eye upon Meena, he saw a shade of sorrow come over her face.
In an instant the manner of the young chief changed. He said to himself,—“I have been mistaken: I thought the maiden slighted me and preferred my rival: but now I know that she loves me, and I can now beat Abomico.”