nt with unnatural energy. They could keep up
this manner of dancing and singing for many hours, and they quit it only
to obtain more food or to fall down exhausted.

"It's the war dance," whispered Henry.

Shif'less Sol nodded. It was, in truth, just approaching its height as
the two crept near. Four powerful warriors, naked except for the breech
clout, were beating incessantly and monotonously upon the Indian drums.
These drums (Ga-no-jo) were about a foot in height and the drummer used
a single stick. The dance itself was called by the Shawnees,
Sa-ma-no-o-no, which was the name bestowed upon this nation by the
Senecas, although the Iroquois themselves called the dance Wa-ta-seh.

Few white men have looked upon such a spectacle at such a time, in the
very deeps of the wilderness, under a night sky, heavy with drifting
clouds. The whole civilized world had vanished, gone utterly like a wisp
of vapor before a wind, and it was peopled only by these savage figures
that danced in the dusk.

Near the trees stood a group of chiefs, among whom Henry recognized
Yellow Panther, the Miami, and Red Eagle, the Shawnee, imposing men
both, but not the equals of an extremely tall and powerful young chief,
who was destined later to be an important figure in the life of Henry
Ware. They stood silent, dignified, the presiding figures of the dance.

The war drums beat on, insistent and steady, like the rolling of water
down a fall. The very monotony of the sound, the eternal harping upon
one theme, contained power. Henry, susceptible to the impressions of the
wilderness, began to feel that his own brain was being heated by it, and
he saw as through a dim red mist. The silent and impassive figures of
the chiefs seemed to grow in height and size. The bonfires blazed
higher, and the monotonous wailing chant of the warriors was penetrated
by a ferocious under note like the whine of some great beast. He glanced
at the shiftless one and saw in his eyes the same intense awed look
which he knew was in his own.

The mass of men who had been dancing stopped suddenly, and the chant
stopped with them. The warriors gathered into two great masses, a lane
between them. Save the chiefs, all were naked to the breech clout, and
from perspiring bodies the odor of the wild arose.

The fires were blazing tremendously, sending off smoke, ashes and sparks
that floated over the trees and were borne far by the wind. At
intervals, prolonged war whoops were