, were esteemed the
three senior nations. After them, in order of precedence, came
the chiefs of the three junior nations, the Oneidas, Cayugas, and
Tuscaroras. All of the great chiefs had assistant chiefs, usually
relatives, who, in case of death, often succeeded to their places. But
these assistants now remained in the crowd with other minor chiefs and
the mass of the warriors. A little apart stood Timmendiquas and his
Wyandots. He, too, was absorbed in the ceremony so sacred to him, an
Indian, and he did not notice the tall figure of the strange Shawnee
lingering in the deepest of the shadows.

The head chiefs, walking solemnly and never speaking, marched across the
clearing, and then through the woods to a glen, where two young warriors
had kindled a little fire of sticks as a signal of welcome. The chiefs
gathered around the fire and spoke together in low tones. This was
Deyuhnyon Kwarakda, which means "The Reception at the Edge of the Wood."

Henry and some others followed, as it was not forbidden to see, and his
interest increased. He shared the spiritual feeling which was impressed
upon the red faces about him. The bright moonlight, too, added to the
effect, giving it the tinge of an old Druidical ceremony.

The chiefs relapsed into silence and sat thus about ten minutes. Then
rose the sound of a chant, distant and measured, and a procession of
young and inferior chiefs, led by Oneidas, appeared, slowly approaching
the fire. Behind them were warriors, and behind the warriors were many
women and children. All the women were in their brightest attire, gay
with feather headdresses and red, blue, or green blankets from the
British posts.

The procession stopped at a distance of about a dozen yards from the
chiefs about the council fire, and the Oneida, Kathlahon, formed the men
in a line facing the head chiefs, with the women and children grouped
in an irregular mass behind them. The singing meanwhile had stopped. The
two groups stood facing each other, attentive and listening.

Then Hahiron, the oldest of the Onondagas, walked back and forth in the
space between the two groups, chanting a welcome. Like all Indian songs
it was monotonous. Every line he uttered with emphasis and a rising
inflection, the phrase "Haih-haih" which may be translated "Hail to
thee!" or better, "All hail!" Nevertheless, under the moonlight in the
wilderness and with rapt faces about him, it was deeply impressive.
Henry found it so.