Pierre himself went forward cautiously, leaving
Macavoy in command. When he came again he said:
"It's a fine sight, and the way is open. They are feasting and dancing.
If we can enter without being seen, we are safe, except for food; we must
trust for that. Come on."
When they arrived at the margin of the woods a wonderful scene was before
them. A volcanic hill rose up on one side, gloomy and stern, but the
reflection of the fires reached it, and made its sides quiver--the rock
itself seemed trembling. The sombre pines showed up, a wall all round,
and in the open space, turreted with fantastic fires, the Indians swayed
in and out with weird chanting, their bodies mostly naked, and painted in
strange colours. The earth itself was still and sober. Scarce a star
peeped forth. A purple velvet curtain seemed to hang all down the sky,
though here and there the flame bronzed it. The Indian lodges were
empty, save where a few children squatted at the openings. The seven
stood still with wonder, till Pierre whispered to them to get to the
ground and crawl close in by the walls of the Fort, following him. They
did so, Macavoy breathing hard--too hard; for suddenly Pierre clapped a
hand on his mouth.
They were now near the Fort, and Pierre had seen an Indian come from the
gate. The brave was within a few feet of them. He had almost passed
them, for they were in the shadow, but Jose had burst a puffball with his
hand, and the dust, flying up, made him sneeze.
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