Roy Norton, The Shaman — Chapter 2 (1922)
“ Sometimes, thinking of it all, I see myself as I must have appeared there in that room, after she again left me alone. A gaunt skeleton of a man, gray-haired and bearded, booted with mukluks in which were many holes of camp fire and wear, and with sprawling, tired feet, a torn cap of skins on his head, skinny, twitching hands, unwashed, chapped and cracked, thrown listlessly on the arms of a denim-covered chair, with feverish eyes fixed vacantly upward, and cursing perhaps because more food was not immediately forthcoming. ”
