The eagle plumes were of uniform length and pure white, except the black-pointed tips.
At his feet sat his daughter, Whispering Winds.

Her maidens were gathered round her.

She raised her soft, black eyes, shining with a wondrous light of surprise and expectation, to the young missionary's face.
Beyond the circle the Indians were massed together, even beyond the limits of the glade.

Under the trees on every side sat warriors astride their steeds; some lounged on the green turf; many reclined in the branches of low-spreading maples.
As Jim looked out over the sea of faces he started in surprise.

The sudden glance of fiery eyes had impelled his gaze.