, and over all the plain.
Then followed the _Tamanous_ or Spirit dance, in which a peculiar kind of
frenzy is excited, as has been described. The excitement was somewhat less
than usual this night, on account of the great orgies which were expected
to follow.

The third and great night of the Potlatch came. It was the night of the
full October moon. The sun had no sooner gone down in the crimson
cloud-seas among the mountains, than the moon, like another sun, broad and
glorious, lifted its arch in the distant blue of the serene horizon.

The Indians gathered on the glimmering plain in the early shadows of
evening, besmeared with yellow ochre and war-paint. Every head was plumed.
There was a savagery in their looks that had not been seen before.

The wild dancers began their motions. The Spirit or _Tamanous_ dance
awakened a frenzy, and all were now impatient for the dance of the Evil
Spirits to begin.

The moon hung low over the plateau and the river. The fires were kindled,
and the smoke presently gave a clouded gold color to the air.

The biters were out, running hither and thither after their manner, and
filling the air with hideous cries.

All was expectation, when the old chief of the Cascades stepped upon the
platform, and said:

"Listen, my children--listen, O sons of the warriors of old. Twice four
times sixty seasons, according to the notch-sticks, have the wings of wild
geese cleaved the sky, and all these years I have lived in peace. My last
moon has arisen--I have seen the smile of the Great Spirit, and I know
that the last moon hangs over my head.

"Warriors, listen! You have always obeyed me. Obey me once more. Dance not
the dance of the Evil Spirits to-night. Let me die in peace. Let not blood
stain my last days. I want you to remember the days of Umatilla as the
days of corn and maize and the pipes of peace. I have given you all I
have--my days are done. You will respect me."

There were mutterings everywhere, suppressed cries of rage, and sharp
words of chagrin and disappointment. The old chief saw the general
dissatisfaction, and felt it like a crushing weight upon his soul.

"I am going to light the pipe of peace," said he, "and smoke it now before
you. As many of you as love Umatilla, light the pipes of peace."

Not a light glimmered in the smoky air. There were words of hate and
suppressed cries everywhere. A circle was forming, it widened, and it
seemed as though the dreaded dance was a