The ladies stayed
in their places while the men made the rounds of the hall. After a
few turns with a lady, they shuffled along to the next one,
continually exchanging their partners. As the dancers passed me by,
one after another, they noticed me, and many among them scowled and
looked angry and displeased. Suddenly the drum stopped for a few
minutes. Then it began in a faster tempo. Now the men remained
stationary, while the ladies made the circuit of the room and each
one in her turn passed in front of me. They looked lovely in their
costumes of finely embroidered snow-white single garments, trimmed
with many silver ornaments and trinkets and in their short calico
skirts and beautiful moccasins. Their limbs were tastefully swathed
in white buckskin leggins, which completed the costume.
Faster and faster beat the drum, and the sobbing, rhythmic sound
thrilled my senses and filled my heart with an indescribable weird,
fierce longing. I saw a maiden approach taller and finer than the
rest. One glance of her soft, wild eyes and I flew to her arms.
"Back, Indians!" I shouted, "honor your queen!" and entered the lists
of the frolicsome dance. Wilder beat the drum and faster. As the old
Indian warmed to his work, he broke out in a doleful, monotonous
song, the words of which I did not understand.
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