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.
The howls of dogs, and the savage war-whoops announced that their
enemies were upon them; but undismayed by the terrible dangers, they
resolved to die together rather than endure separation.
"My father never loved me," whispered Sunbeam, "because I am a girl,
while he hoped for a warrior child; if they find us, kill me; I cannot
live without you."
"We will go to the Great Spirit together, beloved," was the calm
reply.
Soon they heard the voice of Tiger-tail close to them, talking to his
braves. "They no cross river," he said; "all canoes here, dogs no get
scent, all back to swamp, we find um there, you, War-Eagle, watch
canoes." Again the air resounds with the yells of dogs and warriors,
then all was silent.
"War-Eagle hate me," whispered the maiden, "cos I no be his squaw; but
we must go before they return." Slowly the lovers pulled themselves
upward by the ingrown stumps of limbs, and, concealed in the thick
branches, looked around; no one was in sight except the Indian left
to guard the canoes, and he was reclining on the bank of the river,
evidently exhausted.
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