ess now came a burst of savage
cries only less appalling than the war whoop itself. In a moment the men
of the village had rushed from the shadow of the trees into the broad,
firelit space before us. They circled around us, then around the fire;
now each man danced and stamped and muttered to himself. For the most
part they were painted red, but some were white from head to
heel--statues come to life--while others had first oiled their bodies,
then plastered them over with small, bright-colored feathers.

Diccon and I watched that uncouth spectacle, that Virginian [v]masque,
as we had watched many another one, with disgust and weariness. It would
last, we knew, for the better part of the night. For a time we must stay
and testify our pleasure, but after a while we might retire, and leave
the women and children the sole spectators. They never wearied of gazing
at the rhythmic movement.

I observed that among the ranks of the women one girl watched not the
dancers but us. Now and then she glanced impatiently at the wheeling
figures, but her eyes always returned to us. At length I became aware
that she must have some message to deliver or warning to give. Once when
I made a slight motion as if to go to her, she shook her head and laid
her finger on her lips.

Presently I rose and, making my way to the werowance of the village,
where he sat with his eyes fixed on the spectacle, told him that I was
wearied and would go to my hut, to rest for the few hours that yet
remained of the night. He listened dreamily, but made no offer to escort
me. After a moment he acquiesced in my departure, and Diccon and I
quietly left the press of savages and began to cross the firelit turf
between them and our lodge. When we had reached its entrance, we paused
and looked back to the throng we had left. Every back seemed turned to
us, every eye intent upon the leaping figures. Swiftly and silently we
walked across the bit of even ground to the friendly trees and found
ourselves in a thin strip of shadow. Beneath the trees, waiting for us,
was the Indian maid. She would not speak or tarry, but flitted before us
as dusk and noiseless as a moth, and we followed her into the darkness
beyond the firelight. Here a wigwam rose in our path; the girl, holding
aside the mats that covered the entrance, motioned to us to enter. A
fire was burning within the lodge and it showed us Nantaquas standing
with folded arms.

"Nantaquas!" I exclaimed, and would