The Hidden Children by Robert W. Chambers, Science Fiction, Short Stories, Horror

The milestones that once marked that dark and dreadful trail were dead men, red and white. Today a spider-web of highways spreads over that Dark Empire of the League, enmeshing half a thousand towns now all a-buzz by day and all a-glow by night. Empire, League, forest, are vanished; of the nations which formed the Confederacy only altered fragments now remain. But their memory and their great traditions have not perished; cities, mountains, valleys, rivers, lakes, and ponds are endowed with added beauty from the lovely names they wear -- a tragic yet a charming legacy from Kanonsis and Kanonsionni, the brave and mighty people of the Long House, and those outside its walls who helped to prop or undermine it, Huron and Algonquin. Now let the Giants clothed in stone Stalk from Biskoonah; while, new grown, The Severed Heads fly high -- fly high! White-throat, White-throat, thy doom is known! O Blazing Soul that soars alone Like a Swift Arrow to the sky, High winging -- fling thy Wampum down, Lest the sky fall on Catharines-town.