For the most part they were
painted red, but some were white from head to heel, - statues come
to life, - while others had first oiled their bodies, then plastered
them over with small bright-colored feathers. The tall headdresses
made giants of them all; as they leaped and danced in the glare of
the fire they had a fiendish look. They sang, too, but the air was
rude, and broken by dreadful cries. Out of a hut behind us burst
two or three priests, the conjurer, and a score or more of old men.
They had Indian drums upon which they beat furiously, and long
pipes made of reeds which gave forth no uncertain sound. Fixed
upon a pole and borne high above them was the image of their
Okee, a hideous thing of stuffed skins and rattling chains of
copper. When they had joined themselves to the throng in the
firelight the clamor became deafening. Some one piled on more
logs, and the place grew light as day. Opechancanough was not
there, nor Nantauquas.
Diccon and I watched that uncouth spectacle, that Virginian
masque, as we had watched many another one, with disgust and
weariness. It would last, we knew, for the better part of the night.
It was in our honor, and for a while we must stay and testify our
pleasure; but after a time, when they had sung and danced
themselves into oblivion of our presence, we might retire, and
leave the very old men, the women, and the children sole
spectators.
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