Most luckily for poor Peter was it, that he fell into the hands, or rather the arms, of the Indian maid; for she not only preserved his crop, but his life.  When he recovered from his swoon, he found himself seated beside his preserver, who, with one arm round his waist, was holding a cocoa-nut, filled with a refreshing beverage, to his parched and pallid lips.  A large fire blazed in the middle of the wide space occupied by the Indians, and he beheld the well-known coats and jackets of the brave crew of the Firefly scattered on the greensward.

His heart palpitated-he thought at first that the villainous Indians had stripped them, and left them to wander in a state of nature through the tangled and briery woods.  He was, however, soon—­too soon—­convinced that the savages had dressed them!  Yes, that merry crew—­who had so often roasted him—­had been roasted by the Indians!

From this awful fate the lovely Ootanga had preserved him.  She had suddenly conceived a violent affection for the young white-face; and, after a long harangue to the chief, her father, his consent was obtained, and the nuptials were celebrated.

“I smell a rat,” said Peter—­“I’m booked; but better booked than cooked, at any rate;” and forthwith returned thanks to the company for the honour they had conferred upon him, in the fashion of an after-dinner speech, accompanied with as much pantomime as he could manage.

A dance and a feast followed, of which Peter partook; but whether rabbit, squirrel, or monkey, formed the basis of his wedding-supper, he was not naturalist enough to determine.

Ootanga’s affection, however, was sufficient to make amends for anything; she was, in truth, a most killing beauty, for she brought him tigers slain by her own hands, and made a couch for him of the skins.

She caught rattlesnakes for him, and spitch-cooked them for his breakfast.  In fact, there was nothing she left undone to convince him of her unbounded love.

Peter’s heart, however, was untouched by all this show of tenderness; for the fact is, he had already given his heart to a white-face in his own country.

The only consolation he had in his forlorn situation was to talk of her continually; and, as Ootanga understood not a syllable of what he uttered, she naturally applied all his tender effusions to herself, and laughed and grinned, and showed her white teeth, as if she would devour her little husband.

Seated on a tiger skin, with his lawful spouse beside him, arrayed in shells, bows, feathers, and all the adornments of a savage bride, he still sighed for home, and plaintively exclaimed:—­

“Here I am, married to the only daughter of the great chief, who would have roasted me with the rest of our crew, had I not given a joyful consent.  Oh!  I wonder if I ever shall get home, and be married to Miss Wiggins!!!”

The lovely wide-mouthed Ootanga patted him fondly on the chin, and dreamed in her ignorance that he was paying her a compliment in his native language.