Feathers, paint, an' bells! they blaze an' tinkle in the moonlight with a subdooed but savage elegance.

They skates out onto the grass, stilt-laig, an' each buck for himse'f.

They go skootin' about, an' weave an' turn an' twist like these yere water-bugs jiggin' it on the surface of some pond.

Sometimes a buck'll lay his nose along the ground while he dances--sleigh bells jinglin', feathers tossin'! Then he'll straighten up ontil he looks like he's eight foot tall; an' they shore throws themse'fs with a heap of heart an' sperit.
"It's as well they does.

If you looks clost you observes a brace of bucks, and each packin' a black-snake whip.