Summary

Arthur O. Friel Tupahn--the Thunderstorm — Chapter XIII (1922)

Their dance, of course, was no dance at all, but a trotting and hopping around in a circle, stopping often for more drink. Somewhere near by a couple of log drums boomed, and old Andirah in his hammock grinned and nodded his tall plumes, as if to say that this was dancing. Senhor Tom and the senhorita sat and laughed, Pedro and I chuckled and helped ourselves at the big jars, the Tucunas forgot us and gave their whole minds to their festival, and the house shook with the shouts of the merry-makers and the thunder of the drums.
Source: Wikisource

Arthur O. Friel Tupahn--the Thunderstorm — Chapter XIII (1922)

Senhor Tom, still a little sleepy of eye and more than a little lame of muscle, smoked and blinked lazily at the roof. Pedro and I loafed and observed all around us.
“Those jars look horribly heavy,” said Marion, as a couple of women tugged another clay vessel into place near the silent chief. “Why don't the men move them? What's in them?”
Booze,” yawned Senhor Tom. “There's going to be a regular party, and you can't have a regular party without joy-juice; not down here, anyway. And the men let the women roll the kegs because they're saving their strength for the heavy job of emptying them.
Source: Wikisource

Arthur O. Friel Tupahn--the Thunderstorm — Chapter XIII (1922)

And his toothless mouth was stretched wide in a tickled grin.
“My brother the Bat looks like the noon-day sun,” Senhor Tom complimented him. “Let the young bucks beware, or the girls will forsake them for the chief.”
“The heart of Andirah is young again,” piped the chief, “yet not so young as to be foolish about women. If girls come toward me, let my mighty brother Tupahn stand between them and me, for their name is Trouble.”
Source: Wikisource

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