The great chief Poundmaker and his Stonies had broken
loose, and, after looting the Hudson Bay and other stores
in Battleford, were indulging in a wild orgie. Some of
the buildings were already burning, and the Indians, mad
with blood and fire-water, were dancing wildly around
the spouting flames that lit up that pine and snow-clad
winter scene for miles?

Some of the warriors, more particularly round the burning
buildings, had donned uncanny masks that took the shape
of buffalo and moose heads, with shaggy manes, horns and
antlers, and, horror of horrors, some of them, silhouetted
blackly against the fierce glare, showed themselves to
be possessed of tails that made them look like capering
demons.

_Pom, pom, pom_, went the hollow-sounding drums. Round
and round danced the wildly-gesticulating imp-like crowds.
They yelped and howled like dogs. They brandished
tomahawks and spears, all the time working themselves
into a frenzy. It more resembled an orgie of fiends than
of human beings.

"It is horrible," exclaimed Dorothy, shivering, despite
her resolve to face bravely whatever might come.

Within half-a-mile of the burning township, looming up
dimly over there among the trees, was the new village of
Battleford, and further back still, hardly discernible,
lay the Fort. Within several hundred yards of the latter,