A spell held them fixed.

The whole circle swayed in unison with his swaying form as he chanted the departed glories of those happy days when the red man roamed free those plains and woods, lord of his destiny and subject only to his own will.

The mystic magic power of that rich resonant voice, its rhythmic cadence emphasized by the soft throbbing of the drum, the uplifted face glowing as with prophetic fire, the tall swaying form instinct with exalted emotion, swept the souls of his hearers with surging tides of passion.
Cameron, though he caught but little of its meaning, felt himself irresistibly borne along upon the torrent of the flowing words.

He glanced at Jerry beside him and was startled by the intense emotion showing upon his little wizened face.
Suddenly there was a swift change of motif, and with it a change of tone and movement and color.

The marching, vibrant, triumphant chant of freedom and of conquest subsided again into the long-drawn wail of defeat, gloom and despair.