from the forest giant.

"To-wen-yon-go [It touches the sky]!" howled the crazed dancers, leaping
about, while faster and faster came the volleys of live coals, until a
young girl's hair caught fire.

"Kah-none-ye-tah-we!" they cried, falling back and forming a
chain-around her as she wrung the sparks from her long hair, laughing
and leaping about between the flying coals.

Then the nine sachems of the Mohawks rose, all covering their breasts
with their blankets, save the chief sachem, who is called "The Two
Voices." The serried circle fell back, Senecas, Cayugas, and Mohawks
shouting their battle-cries; scores of hatchets glittered,
knives flashed.

All alone in the circle stood Magdalen Brant, slim, straight, motionless
as a tinted statue, her hands on her hips. Reflections of the fires
played over her, in amber and pearl and rose; violet lights lay under
her eyes and where the hair shadowed her brow. Then, through the
silence, a loud voice cried: "Little Rosebud Woman, the False-Faces
thank you! Koon-wah-yah-tun-was [They are burning the white dog]!"

She raised her head and laid a hand on each cheek.

"Neah-wen-ha [I thank you]," she said, softly.

At the word the lynx rose and looked up into her face, then turned and
paced slowly across the circle, green eyes glowing.

The young girl loosened the braids of her hair; a thick, dark cloud fell
over her bare shoulders and breasts.

"She veils her face!" chanted the False-Faces. "Respect the veil! Adieu,
O Woman of the Rose!"

Her hands fell, and, with bent head, moving slowly, pensively, she
passed out of the infernal circle, the splendid lynx stalking at
her heels.

No sooner was she gone than hell itself broke loose among the
False-Faces; the dance grew madder and madder, the terrible rite of
sacrifice was enacted with frightful symbols. Through the awful din the
three war-cries pealed, the drums advanced, thundering; the iris-maids
lighted the six little fires of black-birch, spice-wood, and sassafras,
and crouched to inhale the aromatic smoke until, stupefied and quivering
in every limb with the inspiration of delirium, they stood erect,
writhing, twisting, tossing their hair, chanting the splendors of
the future!

Then into the crazed orgie leaped the Toad-woman like a gigantic scarlet
spider, screaming prophecy and performing the inconceivable and nameless
rites of Ak-e, Ne-ke, and Ge-zis, until, in her frenzy, she went stark
mad, and the devil wo