e an' fraternal, an' thar's never a cloud in the sky.

"At last the big feed begins. Son, you should have beheld them fool
Osages throw themse'fs upon the Crooked Claw's good cheer. It's a p'int
of honour to eat as much as you can; an' b'arin' that in mind the
revellers mows away about twenty pounds of beef to a buck--the squaws,
not bein' so ardent, quits out on mighty likely it's the thirteenth
pound. Tom Six-killer comes plenty clost to sacrificin' himse'f utter.

"This last I knows, for the next day I sees the medicine men givin' some
sufferer one of their aboriginal steam baths. They're on the bank of
Bird River. They've bent down three or four small saplin's for the
framework of a tent like, an' thar's piled on 'em blankets an' robes a
foot deep so she's plumb airtight. Thar's a fire goin' an' they're
heatin' rocks, same as Colonel Sterett tells about when they baptises his
grandfather into the church. When the rocks is red-hot they takes 'em,
one by one, an' drops 'em into a bucket of water to make her steam. Then
they shoves this impromptoo cauldron inside the little robe house where
as I'm aware--for I onderstands the signs from the start--thar's a sick
buck quiled up awaitin' relief. This yere invalid buck stays in thar
twenty minutes. The water boils an' bubbles an' the steam gets that
abundant not to say urgent she half lifts the robes an' blankets at the
aiges to escape. The ailin' buck in the sweat tent stays ontil he can't
stay no more, an' then with a yowl, he comes burstin' forth, a reek of
sweat an' goes splashin' into the coolin' waters of Bird River. It's the
Six-killer; that weddin' feast comes mighty near to downin' him--gives
him a 'bad heart,' an' he ondergoes the steam bath for relief.

"But we're strayed from that weddin'. Bein' now re-arrayed in fullest
feather the Saucy Willow is fetched into the ring an' receives a platter
with the rest. Then one of the bucks, lookin' about like he's amazed,
says: 'Wherever is the Jack Rabbit?' that bein' Bill's Osage title.
Crooked Claw shakes his head an' reckons most likely the Jack Rabbit's
rummagin' about loose some'ers, not knowin' enough to come in an' eat. A
brace of bucks an' a young squaw starts up an' figgers they'll search
about an' see if they can't round him up. They goes out an' thar's Bill
settin' off on a rock a quarter of a mile with his back to the camp an'
the footure.

"The two sharps an' the squaw herds Bill into camp