All the women were in their brightest attire, gay with feather headdresses and red, blue, or green blankets from the British posts.
The procession stopped at a distance of about a dozen yards from the chiefs about the council fire, and the Oneida, Kathlahon, formed the men in a line facing the head chiefs, with the women and children grouped in an irregular mass behind them.

The singing meanwhile had stopped.

The two groups stood facing each other, attentive and listening.
Then Hahiron, the oldest of the Onondagas, walked back and forth in the space between the two groups, chanting a welcome.

Like all Indian songs it was monotonous.

Every line he uttered with emphasis and a rising inflection, the phrase "Haih-haih" which may be translated "Hail to thee!" or better, "All hail!" Nevertheless, under the moonlight in the wilderness and with rapt faces about him, it was deeply impressive.
Henry found it so.
Hahiron finished his round and went back to his place by the fire.
Atotarho, head chief of the Onondagas, holding in his hands beautifully beaded strings of Iroquois wampum, came forward and made a speech of condolence, to which Kathlahon responded.