First of all Kiashuta himself leaped into the circle, brandishing his tomahawk as if rushing upon an enemy. In a loud voice he chanted his own past exploits, after the customary boastful way of an Indian, and then those of his departed ancestors, whose memory he honored.
And, as he thus sang and shrieked, he acted the scenes over again, sending forth the shrill war-whoop with which the foe had so often been terrorized, throwing himself into all the postures of actual combat, striking the post as though it were an enemy, and then tearing the scalp from the head of an imaginary victim.
Long before he had completed his part in the drama another chief had started in to excel Kiashuta; and, by degrees, still more, chiefs and braves, joined in the mad carnival of noise and movement, until the sight was one that neither of the young pioneers would ever forget as long as he lived.
Finally, the whole assembly, as if fired with sudden frenzy, rushed together into the ring, leaping, stamping, whooping and shrieking. They brandished knives and hatchets in the firelight, hacking and stabbing the air in their great excitement, while at intervals their cries arose to such a pitch that they might have been heard miles away over the lonely forest.
Kenton had undoubtedly witnessed this stirring scene before, and possibly Abijah Cook may also have had that experience; but the two boys stared and trembled as the war-dance grew more and more violent.
Finally the ceremony was over. Kiashuta himself gave a signal that hushed the mad carnival of noise. Once again it was possible for those who lay back of the friendly screen of grass and bushes to distinguish individual sounds.
Bob heard his brother give a long sigh, close to his ear. He knew how eager Sandy had always been to witness strange sights and explore the untracked wilderness. It was easy to understand that the boy must consider that he had just looked upon the most wonderful spectacle that he would ever see in all the days of his life.
But they must not forget why they were there. It had been with no desire to look upon any of the ceremonial dances of the Indians that they had taken their lives in their hands, and crept close to the borders of the hostile village of the Iroquois. Kate—that was the magic name by which they had been led over hundreds of weary miles, scorning peril, and laughing at all manner of privation.
Was the wind really strengthening, or did Bob dream it simply because he wished for such a thing to come about? Now that the racket had died away as suddenly as it had arisen, something like quiet settled down over the village, with its warriors exhausted by the violence of their fierce, assumed fury. And Bob, listening, was sure the sound of the breeze in the tops of the near-by pines had gained something in volume.
He knew how the plans of Kenton had been laid. There was nothing for either himself or Sandy to do, save to remain where they were placed, and wait until their allies had accomplished their undertaking.