s were possessed by the orgy. Beads of sweat, not of exhaustion, but
of emotional excitement, appeared upon their faces and naked bodies, and
the red and black paint streaked together horribly.

For a long time this went on, and then the warriors ceased suddenly to
sing, although they continued their dance. A moment later a cry which
thrilled every nerve came from a far point in the dark background.
It was the scalp yell, the most terrible of all Indian cries, long,
high-pitched, and quavering, having in it something of the barking howl
of the wolf and the fiendish shriek of a murderous maniac. The warriors
instantly took it up, and gave it back in a gigantic chorus.

A ghastly figure bounded into the circle of the firelight. It was that
of a woman, middle-aged, tall and powerful, naked to the waist, her body
covered with red and black paint, her long black hair hanging in a loose
cloud down her back. She held a fresh scalp, taken from a white head,
aloft in either band. It was Catharine Montour, and it was she who had
first emitted the scalp yell. After her came more warriors, all bearing
scalps. The scalp yell was supposed to be uttered for every scalp taken,
and, as they had taken more than three hundred, it did not cease for
hours, penetrating every part of the forest. All the time Catharine
Montour led the dance. None bounded higher than she. None grimaced more
horribly.

While they danced, six men, with their hands tied behind them and black
caps on their heads, were brought forth and paraded around amid hoots
and yells and brandishing of tomahawks in their faces. They were the
surviving prisoners, and the black caps meant that they were to be
killed and scalped on the morrow. Stupefied by all through which they
had gone, they were scarcely conscious now.

Midnight came. The Iroquois still danced and sang, and the calm stars
looked down upon the savage and awful scene. Now the dancers began to
weary. Many dropped unconscious, and the others danced about them where
they lay. After a while all ceased. Then the chiefs brought forth a
white dog, which Hiokatoo killed and threw on the embers of the fire.
When it was thoroughly roasted, the chiefs cut it in pieces and ate it.
Thus closed the Festival of Thanksgiving for the victory of Wyoming.

CHAPTER XIII. A FOREST PAGE

When the survivors of the band of Wyoming fugitives that the five had
helped were behind the walls of Fort Penn, securing the food and r