Again the scene fades, and he finds himself crouching in the smoky entrance of a teepee. Before him stretches the prairie, like a great, still ocean. In the foreground twisting lines of bent, naked forms hop and spring in fantastic figures, the moonlight glancing on their painted bodies. A discordant tomtom-beating mingles with wild whoops.
Gradually the ghost-dance grows quicker and quicker, the whooping redoubles, the dreary chant of a group of squaws swells in volume; then——
Tink-tink! Tink-tink! Clear and sweet came the notes of the bell.
"'Ere, wake up, governor. You looks loike a bloke h'I once see'd a-walkin' in 'is sleep. Wot's the course?"
Jack started violently. It was the cockney come to relieve the wheel.
"South-a-half-west!" stammered the rover.
"South-a-'alf-west!" repeated Hollins, and Jack retreated forward.