The Indians knew that yell; it was the terrible war-cry of the Hurons.
A horse followed closely after the leader, and then another appeared on the crest of the hill.

Then came two abreast, and then four abreast, and now the hill was black with plunging horses.

They galloped swiftly down the slope and into the narrow street of the village.

When the black horse entered the oval the train of racing horses extended to the top of the ridge.

The plumes of the riders streamed gracefully on the breeze; their feathers shone; their weapons glittered in the bright sunlight.
Never was there more complete surprise.