The Blithedale Romance by Nathaniel Hawthorne Chapter 24 Page 18

“Me take his scalp!” cried the Indian chief, brandishing his tomahawk, and cutting a great caper in the air.

“I’ll root him in the earth with a spell that I have at my tongue’s end!” squeaked Moll Pitcher. “And the green moss shall grow all over him, before he gets free again!”

“The voice was Miles Coverdale’s,” said the fiendish fiddler, with a whisk of his tail and a toss of his horns. “My music has brought him hither. He is always ready to dance to the Devil’s tune!”

Thus put on the right track, they all recognized the voice at once, and set up a simultaneous shout.

“Miles! Miles! Miles Coverdale, where are you?” they cried.