Standing in a circle, they danced, shouting and
singing. It was a slow measured step, but no more like dancing than
their singing was like singing. Another gorgeous circle was formed on
the other side of the stockade, and both parties kept up this weird
dance with great gravity. One young fellow laughed, twisted about,
and conducted himself a little like a harlequin. All held the hands
upon the haunches and bent forward. This was called an Omaha dance.
After a while all stopped dancing, and one of the squad of chiefs rode
into the circle and began to relate his experience, while at every
pause the emphasis was given by a strange roll of the drum. He was
telling some savage exploit, the interpreter said, against the
Pawnees. The crowd applauded with wild grunts and savage cries. Then
the circle rose and danced again, then another chief spoke, and so on,
some on foot and some on horseback, till one whom we had selected as
the most grotesque horror of the whole came into the circle. He was
painted all over a greenish-rhubarb color, like a stagnant pool: his
chin was blue, his face was streaked with red.
Pages:
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156