Them's kettle-tenders,--floor managin' the _baile_ they be; an' if a buck who's dancin' gets preeoccupied with thinkin' of something else an' takes to prancin' an' dancin' listless, the way the kettle-tenders pours the leather into him to remind him his fits of abstraction is bad form, is like a religious ceremony.

An' it ain't no bad idee; said kettle-tenders shore promotes what Colonel Sterett calls the _elan_ of the dancin' bucks no end.
"After your eyes gets used to this whirlin' an' skatin' an' skootin' an' weavin' in an' out, you notes two bucks, painted to a finish an' feathered to the stars! who out-skoots an' out-whirls an' out-skates their fellow bucks like four to one.

They gets their nose a little lower one time an' then stands higher in the air another, than is possible to the next best buck.

Them enthoosiasts ain't Osages at all; which they're niggers--full-blood Senegambians they be, who's done j'ined the tribe.
These Round House festivals with the paint, the feathers, an' the bells, fills their trop'cal hearts plumb full, an' forgettin' all about the white folks an' their gyarded ways, they're the biggest Injuns to warm a heel that night.
"Saucy Willow is up by the damaged rag-stick buck lendin' a mouthful or two of cl'ar, bell-like alto yelps to the harmony of the evenin'.

Bill who's a wonder in feathers an' bells, an' whose colour-scheme would drive a temp'rance lecturer to drink, while zippin' about in the moonlight gets his eye on her.