Shif'less Sol himself, iron of body and soul, was shaken. He
could not close his ears, if he would, to the cries that came
from the fires, but he shut his eyes to keep out the demon dance.
Nevertheless, he opened them again in a moment. The horrible
fascination was too great. He saw Queen Esther still shaking her
tomahawk, but as he looked she suddenly darted through the
circle, warriors willingly giving way before her, and disappeared
in the darkness. The scalp dance went on, but it had lost some
of its fire and vigor.
Shif'less Sol felt relieved.
"She's gone," he whispered to Paul, and the boy, too, then opened
his eyes. The rest of it, the mad whirlings and jumpings of the
warriors, was becoming a blur before him, confused and without
meaning.
Neither he nor Shif'less Sol knew how long they had been sitting
there on the ground, although it had grown yet darker, when
Braxton Wyatt thrust a violent foot against the shiftless one and
cried:
"Get up! You're wanted!"
A half dozen Seneca warriors were with him, and there was no
chance of resistance. The two rose slowly to their feet, and
walked where Braxton Wyatt led. The Senecas came on either side,
and close behind them, tomahawks in their hands.
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