And presently there came dawn. First a cold air blowing out of the
forest, and then a deeper darkness that presently gave way to faint,
shadowy light.
Here and there tall figures came looming, ghostly-fashion, out of
chaos, to take slow shape and form, to resolve themselves into tapering
lodges, into hunched and huddled groups.
And with light came action.
McElroy saw that around the central lodge before the gate there was a
solid pack of prostrate Indians covering the ground like a cloth, and
from this centre came the tom-toms and the wailing.
It was the lodge of the chief and within lay the stark body of the
murdered Negansahima.
As the faint light grew, one by one the warriors rose out of the mass
like smoke spirals, drawing away to disappear among the tepees. Soon
there came the sound of falling poles and McElroy knew that they were
striking the camp.
For what?
Why, surely, for one thing.
A chief must go to the great Hunting Ground from his own country; in
his own country must his bones seek rest.
They would journey back up the long and difficult trail down which they
had just come to that vague region from which they hailed.
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