He was going, but the chief grasped him firmly by the arm,—­

“Where dost thou wish to go?  Dost thou know the love of a brother?  Didst thou ever dream of one?  I have said we must be brothers to each 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.  Dally 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 that cannot be paid too highly.  You have heard my words.  I have said!”

This sounds very much like a romance, but it is an Apache story, related of one of their great chiefs, during one of their evening encampments.  An Apache having, in a moment of passion, accidentally killed one of the tribe, hastened to the chiefs to deliver himself up to justice.  On his way he was met by the brother of his victim, upon whom, according to Indian laws, fell the duty of revenge and retaliation.  They were friends, and shook hands together.