other; come to the wigwam."

They returned to the village in silence, and when they arrived before
the door of the council lodge, the chief summoned everybody to hear what
he had to communicate, and ordered the parents to bring the young girl.

"Flower of the magnolia," said he, taking her by the hand, "wilt thou
love me less as a brother than as a husband? speak! Whisper thy thought
to me! Didst thou ever dream of another voice than mine, a younger one,
breathing of love and despair?"

Then leading the girl to where the young warrior stood--

"Brother," said he, "take thy wife and my sister."

Turning towards the elders, the chief extended his right arm so as to
invite general attention.

"I have called you," said he, "that an act of justice may be performed;
hear my words:--

"A young antelope loved a lily, standing under the shade of a sycamore,
by the side of a cool stream. Daily he came to watch it as it grew
whiter and more beautiful; he loved it very much, till one day a large
bull came and picked up the lily. Was it good? No! The poor antelope
fled towards the mountains, never wishing to return any more under the
cool shade of the sycamore. One day he met the bull down, and about to
be killed by a big bear. He saved him; he heard only the whisper of his
heart; he saved the bull, although the bull had taken away the pretty
lily from where it: stood, by the cool stream. It was good, it was
well! The bull said to the antelope, `We shall be brothers, in joy and
in sorrow!' and the antelope said, there could be no joy for him since
the lily was gone. The bull considered; he thought that a brother ought
to make great sacrifices for a brother, and he said to the antelope:
`Behold, there is the lily, take it before it droops away, wear it in
thy bosom and be happy.' Chiefs, sages, and warriors! I am the bull;
behold! my brother the antelope. I have given unto him the flower of
the magnolia; she is the lily, that grew by the side of the stream, and
under the sycamore. I have done well, I have done much, yet not enough
for a great chief, not enough for a brother, not enough for justice!
Sages, warriors, hear me all; the flower of the magnolia can lie but
upon the bosom of a chief. My brother must become a chief, he is a
chief, for I divide with him the power I possess: my wealth, my lodge,
are his own; my horses, my mules, my furs, and all! A chief has but one
life, and it is a great gift than can