Thousands there must have been, around their fires and teepees, and coming or going from the valley.

They were silent, like all savages, but the low hum rose from the place which told of human life.
I tried to keep my eyes steady, though my heart was beating like a fanner.

The men were of the same light colour and slimness as those I had seen on the edge of the mist in Clearwater Glen.

Indeed, they were not unlike Shalah, except that he was bigger than the most of them.

I was not learned in Indian ways, but a glance told me that these folk never came out of the Tidewater, and were no Cherokees of the hills or Tuscaroras from the Carolinas.