d arose from the forest, and was immediately succeeded by a high,
shrill yell, that was drawn out, until it equaled the longest and most
plaintive howl of the wolf. The sudden and terrible interruption caused
Duncan to start from his seat, unconscious of everything but the effect
produced by so frightful a cry. At the same moment, the warriors glided
in a body from the lodge, and the outer air was filled with loud shouts,
that nearly drowned those awful sounds, which were still ringing beneath
the arches of the woods. Unable to command himself any longer, the youth
broke from the place, and presently stood in the center of a disorderly
throng, that included nearly everything having life, within the limits
of the encampment. Men, women, and children; the aged, the inform, the
active, and the strong, were alike abroad, some exclaiming aloud, others
clapping their hands with a joy that seemed frantic, and all expressing
their savage pleasure in some unexpected event. Though astounded, at
first, by the uproar, Heyward was soon enabled to find its solution by
the scene that followed.

There yet lingered sufficient light in the heavens to exhibit those
bright openings among the tree-tops, where different paths left the
clearing to enter the depths of the wilderness. Beneath one of them, a
line of warriors issued from the woods, and advanced slowly toward the
dwellings. One in front bore a short pole, on which, as it afterwards
appeared, were suspended several human scalps. The startling sounds that
Duncan had heard were what the whites have not inappropriately called
the "death-hallo"; and each repetition of the cry was intended to
announce to the tribe the fate of an enemy. Thus far the knowledge of
Heyward assisted him in the explanation; and as he now knew that the
interruption was caused by the unlooked-for return of a successful
war-party, every disagreeable sensation was quieted in inward
congratulation, for the opportune relief and insignificance it conferred
on himself.

When at the distance of a few hundred feet from the lodges the newly
arrived warriors halted. Their plaintive and terrific cry, which was
intended to represent equally the wailings of the dead and the triumph
to the victors, had entirely ceased. One of their number now called
aloud, in words that were far from appalling, though not more
intelligible to those for whose ears they were intended, than their
expressive yells. It would be difficult to conv