Summary

Roy Norton The Golden Mocassins — Chapter 8 (1911)

A heavy gun rattled to the floor, and Sparhawk calmly picked it up and slipped it into his own shirt.
“You fool!” he growled, in a hoarse monotone. “What ails you? Take a fall to yourself. No trouble of any kind here! See? Go on, and shut your trap!”
As if brought to his senses by something suggestive in the speech, Royce lowered his hands, and started to the next guest.
“It's a good thing for you I didn't put it over,” he said, over his shoulder, with a wolfish grin at the Hatchet.
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Roy Norton The Golden Mocassins — Chapter 8 (1911)

Truly the Hatchet's eyes were following her as she went round the room, and she, at least, had no objections to hutchnu, for she took the jug from beneath the fiddler's chair, hoisted it on her arm in a manner betokening experience, and took a long pull at its contents.
“Good girl!” boisterously applauded Royce, taking the jug from her hands and following her example, while the Hatchet again backed against the wall, and held his unwavering eyes on him with a look that I should not have cared to have bestowed on me.
Source: Wikisource

Roy Norton The Golden Mocassins — Chapter 8 (1911)

Singer said. “I'm callin',” and signaled to the so-called orchestra, which sawed into the strains of “Buffalo Gals, Ain't Ye Comin' Out To-night.”
The feet beat rhythmically on the rough slab floor, and the white men lugubriously executed jig steps on the corners when called upon to “Balance all,” and lifted the screaming squaws from the floor, and whirled them bodily when admonished to “swing your pardners.” The bucks danced sedately, as usual, and appeared to accept the amusement as extremely hard work, and a white man's innovation.
Source: Wikisource

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