Not meeting with anything of importance, the fourth day they encamped within five miles of the Indian chief's wigwam. After feasting on some ducks they had killed along their road, they all laid down to rest from the toils of their journey, and all but Esock slept soundly. He was meditating on what course to pursue, and what excuse he should make on arriving at the Indian chief's wigwam, to excuse himself in so grave a matter. Mayall, his father, had gone thus far in match-making without his consent, and now he wished the whole affair could be passed by without seeing the Indian chief or his daughter. In the morning Esock Mayall resolved to take a different route from his father and the rest of the family, and pass the Indian chief's wigwam without being seen, and informed his father of his resolution. Mayall then told Esock that he was ashamed of having a coward in his family; said he must go boldly to the chief's wigwam, where they would all stay over night, and if he was not pleased with the chief's daughter he would excuse the matter. Esock finally resolved to go forward and brave the consequences, as his father always had some way to get out of a bad affair. Their tent was soon taken down, and Mayall and his family pursued their journey toward the Indian chief's wigwam. The sun had risen fair, but as they proceeded along their journey dark clouds began to curtain the heavens. The wind roared among the forest trees, the lightning flashed from the storm-cloud, the thunders rolled through the forest with deafening roar, splitting and shivering the forest trees, whilst the rain at intervals seemed to descend in torrents. Just as Mayall and his family emerged from the thick woodlands into a small clearing, where the Indian chief's wigwam stood, he saw the chief and his daughter stand looking out of the door, for Mayall's approach had been heralded by an Indian runner the previous day, and they were prepared to receive him. As they came into the clearing there was a lull in the storm for a few moments, and the chief's daughter rushed forward to welcome Mayall to their home. The words had scarcely dropped from her lips before the lightning began to crash among the trees and the storm beat down fearfully, and she glided back to the wigwam with speed that seemed like the flight of a bird. As she approached Mayall, Esock Mayall was standing in a position that brought her in full view from her head to her feet. He was struck with a strange, mysterious spell. Her neck was as pure as the alabaster, her bosom as white as ivory, her soft blue eyes like liquid orbs adorning the face of beauty, whilst her fair hair flowed in graceful ringlets upon her neck and shoulders. Her form was simply perfect; her breath was like the eglantine, and her cheek wore the morning blush of the moss-rose. She was a perfect Cleopatra, all but the royal crown, and that was supplied with plumes--the royal crown of the Indian Queen of the Poorest.