a store
an' licker house on the Upper Hawgthief. Of course, no gent sells these
Injuns licker. It's ag'in the law; an' onless you-all is onusual eager
to make a trip to Fort Smith with a marshal ridin' herd on you doorin'
said visit, impartin' of nosepaint to aborigines is a good thing not to
do. But Black Feather, he'd come over to Dick Stocton's an' linger
'round the bar'ls of Valley Tan, an' take a chance on stealin' a snifter
or two while Stocton's busy.

"At last Stocton gets tired an' allows he'll lay for Black Feather. This
yere Stocton is a mighty reckless sport; he ain't carin' much whatever he
does do; he hates Injuns an' shot guns, an' loves licker, seven-up, an'
sin in any form; them's Stocton's prime characteristics. An' he gets
mighty weary of the whiskey-thievin' Black Feather, an' lays for him.

"One evenin' this aggravatin' Black Feather crosses over an' takes to
ha'ntin' about Dick Stocton's licker room as is his wont. It looks like
Black Feather has already been buyin' whiskey of one of them boot-laig
parties who takes every chance an' goes among the Injuns an' sells 'em
nosepaint on the sly. 'Fore ever he shows up on the Upper Hawgthief that
time, this Black Feather gets nosepaint some'ers an' puts a whole quart
of it away in the shade; an' he shore exhibits symptoms. Which for one
thing he feels about four stories tall!

"Stocton sets a trap for Black Feather. He fills up the tin cup into
which he draws that Valley Tan with coal-oil--karoseen you-all calls
it--an' leaves it, temptin' like, settin' on top a whiskey bar'l. Shore!
it's the first thing Black Feather notes. He sees his chance an' grabs
an' downs the karoseen; an' Stocton sort o' startin' for him, this Black
Feather gulps her down plump swift. The next second he cuts loose the
yell of that year, burns up about ten acres of land, and starts for Red
River. No, I don't know whether the karoseen hurts him none or not; but
he certainly goes squatterin' across the old Red River like a wounded
wild-duck, an' he never does come back no more.

"But, son, as you sees, I don't know nothin' speshul or much touchin'
Injuns, an' if I'm to dodge the disgrace of ramblin' along in this
desultory way, I might better shift to a tale I hears Sioux Sam relate to
Doc Peets one time in the Red Light. This Sam is a Sioux, an a mighty
decent buck, considerin' he's Injun; Sam is servin' the Great Father as a
scout with the diag'nal-coat, darby-hat