The orator's words
burned. Swift and deep impressions were left upon the excited
brain. The tall figure of the Mohawk towered, gigantic, in the
half light, and the spell that he threw over all was complete.
He spoke about half an hour, but when he stopped he did not sit
down. Henry knew by the deep breath that ran through the Long
House that something more was coming from Thayendanegea.
Suddenly the red chief began to sing in a deep, vibrant voice,
and this was the song that he sung:
This was the roll of you,
All hail! All hail! All hail!
You that joined in the work,
All hail! All hail! All hail!
You that finished the task,
All hail! All hail! All hail!
The Great League,
All hail! All hail! All hail!
There was the same incessant repetition of "Haih haih!" that
Henry had noticed in the chant at the edge of the woods, but it
seemed to give a cumulative effect, like the roll of thunder, and
at every slight pause that deep breath of approval ran through
the crowd in the Long House. The effect of the song was
indescribable. Fire ran in the veins of all, men, women, and
children. The great pulses in their throats leaped up.
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