Then the owl hooted, the panther shrieked and the bear growled.

The cry of a moose, not any moose at all, as Tandakora well knew, but the foul emanation of a wicked spirit, came, merely to be succeeded by the weird cries of night birds which the Ojibway chief had never seen, and of which he had never dreamed.

He knew, though, that they must be hideous, misshapen creatures.

But he still stood fast, although all of his warriors were eager to go, and the demon chorus came nearer and nearer, multiplying its cries, and adding to the strange notes of birds the equally strange notes of animals, worse even than the growl of bear or shriek of panther.
Tandakora knew now that the wicked spirits of earth and air were abroad in greater numbers than he had ever known before.

They fairly swarmed all about him and his warriors, continually coming closer and closer and making dire threats.