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"Thus it runs, Carus, the legend of this John O'Bail, how he sought the wilderness, shunning his kind, and traveled and trapped and slew the deer, until one day at sunrise ahim stay: "'Turn to the fire of dawn, John O'Bail, Turn to the fire of dawn; The doe that waits in the vale Was a fawn in the year that's gone!' And John O'Bail he heeds the hail And follows her on and on
"Oh, Carus, they sang it and sang it, ha the chorus, and that last dreadful verse: "'Where is the soul of you, John O'Bail, Where is the soul you slew? There's Painted Death on the trail, And the moccasins point to you Sha through the shadows at me: "Who was John O'Bail, Carus? What is the Painted Death, and who are the People of the Morning?"
"John O'Bail was a wandering felloent a-gipsying into the Delaware country The Delawares call the' This John O'Bail had a son by an Indian girl--and that's what they rel demon, Cornplanter, and he's struck the frontier like a cata htfully, "so that is why they curse the naain: "Well, you'll never guess who it was singing away down there! I crept to my s and peeped out, and there, Carus, were those two queer forest-running felloho stopped us on the hill that ----"
"Jack Mount!" I exclaimed
"Yes, dear, and the other--the little wrinkled felloho had such strangely fine manners for a Coureur-de-Bois----"
"The Weasel!"
"Yes, Carus, but very drunk, and boisterous, and cuttingcapers They went off, finally, ar into a soleave them wide berth on the street, and people paused to look after the heads--" She stopped short, finger on lips, listening
Far up the street I heard laughter, then a plaintive, sustained howling, thennearer and nearer
Elsin nodded in silence I sprang up and descended the stairs The tap-roohers who sat within, savoring the early ale, scarce notedtu to the open door I looked out, and beheld a half-dozen forest-runners, in all the glory of deep-fringed buckskin and bright wa round and round in a circle, the center of which was occupied by an angry toatch theirin aa yelp at every step, I perceived in their grotesque evolutions a parody upon a Wyandotte scalp-dance, the while they yapped and yowled, chanting: "Ha-wa-sa-say Ha! Ha! Ha-wa-sa-say!"