"An' now I kin hear somethin' else," said Shif'less Sol. "They're singin' a war song which ain't usual when so many are on the march, but they reckon they've got at least two or three hundred white scalps ez good ez took already." Now the ferocious chant, sung in Shawnee, which they understood, came plainly to them. It was a song of anticipation, and when they translated it to themselves it ran something like this: To the land of Kaintuckee we have come, Wielders of the bow and the tomahawk, we, Shawnee and Miami, Wyandot and Delaware Matchless in march and battle we come, Great is Manitou. The white man will fall like leaves before us, His houses to the fire we will give, All shall perish under our mighty blows, And the forest will grow over his home, Great is Manitou. It went on in other verses, rising above the creak of the wheels, a fierce, droning chant that drummed upon the nerves and inflamed the brain. Much of its power came from its persistency upon the same beat and theme, until the great chorus became like the howling of thousands of wolves for their prey. "Ef I couldn't feel my scalp on my head right now," said Shif'less Sol, "I'd be shore that one o' them demons out thar had it in his hands, whirlin' it 'roun' an' 'roun'." "Guess I won't need nothin' more to make me yell my very darndest," said Long Jim. "They'll be in sight in a minute or two," said Paul, "and I'm truly thankful that we have ground so favorable. We wouldn't have a chance without it." "That's so," said Henry, "and we must never lose our heads for a minute. If we do we're gone." "Anyway, surprise will be a help to us," said Shif'less Sol, "'cause all the signs show that they don't dream we're here. But jest to ourselves, boys, I'm mighty glad that river is between us an' them. Did you ever hear sech a war chant? Why, it freezes me right into the marrer!" "They've gone mad with triumph before they've won it," said Henry. "They intoxicate themselves with singing and dancing. Look at those fellows on the outer edges of the line jumping up and down." "An' did you ever see savages more loaded down with war paint?" said Long Jim. "Why, I think it must be an inch thick on the faces uv them dancers an' jumpers!" The forest, in truth, had beheld few sights as sinister as this Indian army advancing, keeping step to its ferocious chant. Henry saw Yellow Panther come into view, and then Red Eagle, and then the rumbling guns with their gunners, and then Blackstaffe and Wyatt, and then the English Colonel, Alloway, his second, Cartwright, and three or four more officers riding. After them came the caissons and the other ammunition wagons, and then more warriors, hundreds and hundreds, joining in that ferocious whining chorus. The red coats of the British officers lent a strange and incongruous touch to this scene of forest and savage warfare.