A child's skill only is needed to take their half-shed fur and dash them squalling and spitting and kicking into Biskoonah!" He resumed his painting with a shrug of contempt, adding: "Amochol rages in vain.

Upon this wizard a Mohican spits! One by one his scalped acolytes tumble and thump among the dead and bloody forest leaves.

The Siwanois laugh at them.

Let the red sorcerer of the Senecas make strong magic so that his cats return to life, and the vile fur grows once more where a Mohican has ripped it out!" "Each night you go forth and scalp.

Each morning you paint.