ll things were distorted in the mingled dusk and glow of the fires, and
Henry, bending low that his great stature might not be noticed, edged
gradually in and joined the dancers. For a while, none was more furious
than he. He leaped and he swung his arms, and he chanted, until the
perspiration ran down his face, and none looked wilder than he. In the
multitude nobody knew that he was a stranger, nor would the glazed eyes
of the dancers have noticed that he was one, anyhow.

Nevertheless he was watching keenly, while he leaped and shouted, and
his eyes were for the cannon, drawn up just within the edge of the
forest, with the ammunition wagons between them. After a while he moved
cautiously in their direction, threw himself panting on the grass, where
others already lay in the stupor of exhaustion, and then, taking hold of
one of the burning brands which the wind had blown from the bonfires, he
edged slowly toward the forest and the wagons.

This was the last link in the chain, but if it were not forged all the
others would be in vain. Three or four times he stopped motion
altogether, and lay flat on the ground. Through the red haze he dimly
saw the figures of Yellow Panther and Red Eagle who stood side by side,
and he saw also the two medicine men, the Bear and the Buffalo, who
danced as if they were made of steel, and who continually incited the
others.

Henry himself began to feel the effect of the dancing and of the wild
cheering, which was like a continuous mad incantation. His blood had
never before leaped so wildly and he saw through a red haze all the
time. He felt for the moment almost like an Indian, or rather as if he
had returned to some primeval incarnation. But it did not make him feel
one with those around him. Instead it incited him to extreme effort and
greater daring.

He edged himself forward slowly, dragging the torch upon the ground. He
still saw Blackstaffe and Wyatt at the edge of the opening some distance
away, but they were gazing at the great mass of the dancers. Alloway
presently came from his tent and also stood looking on, though he did
not join the renegades. Henry could imagine his feelings, his bitter
disappointment. But then, one must know something about Indians before
undertaking to go on campaigns with them. He hoped, however, that young
Cawthorne would remain in his tent.

His slow creeping lasted ten minutes. He felt now that he had reached
the very crisis of the campaign made b