Paul shuddered again and again
from head to foot at this sight of an orgy such as the mass of
mankind escapes, even in dreams.
The darkness thickened, the dance grew wilder. It was like a
carnival of demons, but it was to be incited to a yet wilder
pitch. A singular figure, one of extraordinary ferocity, was
suddenly projected into the midst of the whirling crowd, and a
chant, shriller and fiercer, rose above all the others. The
figure was that of Queen Esther, like some monstrous creature out
of a dim past, her great tomahawk stained with blood, her eyes
bloodshot, and stains upon her shoulders. Paul would have
covered his eyes had his hands not been tied instead, he turned
his head away. He could not bear to see more. But the horrible
chant came to his ears, nevertheless, and it was reinforced
presently by other sounds still more terrible. Fires sprang up
in the forest, and cries came from these fires. The victorious
army of "Indian" Butler was beginning to burn the prisoners
alive. But at this point we must stop. The details of what
happened around those fires that night are not for the ordinary
reader. It suffices to say that the darkest deed ever done on
the soil of what is now the United States was being enacted.
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