f
deep-fringed buckskin and bright wampum, slowly hopping round and round
in a circle, the center of which was occupied by an angry town
watchman, lanthorn lighted, pike in hand. As they hopped, lifting their
moccasined feet as majestically as turkeys walking in a muddy road,
fetching a yelp at every step, I perceived in their grotesque
evolutions a parody upon a Wyandotte scalp-dance, the while they yapped
and yowled, chanting:

"Ha-wa-sa-say
Ha! Ha!
Ha-wa-sa-say!"

"Dance, watchman, dance!" shouted one of the rangers, whom I knew to be
Jack Mount, poking the enraged officer in the short ribs with the
muzzle of his rifle; and the watchman, with a snarl, picked up his feet
and began to tread a reluctant measure, calling out that he did not
desire to dance, and that they were great villains and rogues and
should pay for it yet.

I saw some shopkeepers putting up the shutters before their lighted
windows, while the townspeople stood about in groups, agape, to see
such doings in the public streets.

"Silence!" shouted Mount, raising his hand. "People of Albany, we have
shown you the famous Wyandotte dance; we will now exhibit a dancing
bear! Houp! Houp! Weasel, take thy tin cup and collect shillings! Ow!
Ow!" And he dropped his great paws so that they dangled at the wrist,
laid his head on one side, and began sidling around in a circle with
the grave, measured tread of a bear, while the Weasel, drinking-cup in
hand, industriously trotted in and out among the groups of scandalized
burghers, thrusting the tin receptacle at them, and talking all the
while: "Something for the bear, gentlemen--a trifle, if you please.
Everybody is permitted to contribute--you, sir, with your bones so
nicely wadded over with fat--a shilling from you. What? How dare you
refuse? Stop him, Tim!"

A huge ranger strode after the amazed burgher, blocking his way; the
thrifty had taken alarm, but the rangers herded them back with
persuasive playfulness, while the little Weasel made the rounds,
talking cheerfully all the time, and Mount, great fists dangling,
minced round and round, with a huge simper on his countenance, as
though shyly aware of his own grace.

"Tim Murphy should go into the shops," he called out. "There are a
dozen fat Dutchmen a-peeking through the shutters at me, and I dance
before no man for less than a shilling. Houp! Houp! How much is in thy
cup, Cade? Lord, what a thirst is mine! Yet I dance--villains, d