There is a piercing cry and a roll of war-drums, and suddenly the edges of the forest are full of leaping and dancing forms.

The plateau is alive as with an army.

Pipes play, shells rattle, and drums roll, and the fantastic forms with grotesque motions pass and repass each other.
Up the Columbia comes a fleet of canoes like a cloud passing over the silvery ripples.

The river is all alive with human forms, and airy paddles and the prows of tilting boats.
The plateau swarms.

It is covered with waving blankets and dancing plumes.
All is gayety and mirth.
There is another roll of drums, and then silence.
The circling blankets and plumes become motionless.