Some would wear our moccasins red,
Though the road should lead to the dead.
Some would wear our coronals green,
Who would keep themselves unseen!
Jervis Whitney! Jervis Whitney!"
So sang a wild and musical voice out there in the woods; and halting suddenly and cocking his gun, Jervis Whitney stood on his guard.
"Will-o'-the-Wisp!
None shall wear our moccasins red,
On the road that leads to the dead.
None shall wear our coronals green,