frames, and made them buoyant, so that their feet scarce touched the
floor. Up and down and across from side to side and end to end they
whirled and floated. They moved as if a power which took the place of
wings was in them. They did not seem to know that they were dancing.
They did not dance; they floated, flowing like a current moved by easy
undulations. Their hands were clasped. Their faces nearly touched. Their
eyes were closed or glowing. And still the long bow came and went, and
still the music rose and sank, swelled and ebbed, as easy waves
advance, retreat and flood again, breaking in white and lazy murmurs at
twilight on the dusky beach.

Herbert stood still; his eyes were lifted, the gaze in them far away,
and one foot beat the measure. Beside him stood the Trapper. His arms
were crossed; his eyes were on the bow that the Lad was drawing, and his
body swayed, lifted and sank in perfect harmony with the motions and the
accompanying sound, with a grace which nature only reaches when the will
is utterly surrendered to a power that has charmed the stiffness and
tension out of the frame and made it yielding and responsive.

At last the music stopped; and with it stopped each form. Each foot was
arrested at the point to which the sound had carried it when it paused.
Each couple stood in perfect pose. The motive power which moved them was
withdrawn, and the limbs stood motionless as if the soul that gave them
animation had retired. They had been lifted to another world--a world of
impulse and movement more airy and spirit-like than the gross
earth,--and it took a moment for them to struggle back to ordinary life.
But in a moment thought recalled them to themselves, and they realized
the mastery of the power that had held them at its will and the applause
broke out in showers of happy tumult. They crowded around the
Lad--strong men and beautiful women,--gazing at him in wonder; then