Shore; the savages rings in a war-dance on all sorts of cer'monies.

It don't allers mean that they're hostile, an' about to spraddle forth on missions of blood.

Like I states, Black Dog, who's gone to the end of his mournful lariat about the departed squaw, turns himse'f on for a war-dance; an' he nacherally invites the Osage nation to paint an' get in on the festiv'ties.
"Accordin' to the rooles, pore Bill, jest back from school, has got to cut in.

Or he has his choice between bein' fined a pony or takin' a lickin' with mule whips in the hands of a brace of kettle-tenders whose delight as well as dooty it is to mete out the punishment.

Bill can't afford to go shy a pony, an' as he's loth to accept the larrupin's, he wistfully makes ready to shake a moccasin at the _baile_.