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It's something like this noosepaper, for instance; something that's gut a big Injin onto it; though the Big Injin Fryday Nite had his close on, which this moril Jernal's Injin hasn't, bein intended to represent that nobil read man of the forrist, of hoom the poet sweetly sings: "Low, the poor Injin! hoose untootered mind Clothes him in frunt Butt leaves him bare behind!" However, let that parse.
I dream' he's out for little ron ven piece of noosepaper blow up in his face an' mak' him ron avay, yust same as horse. He snort an' yump, an' ron till he step in prairie-dog hole and broke his leg." "Strange!" said Willie. "What?" "My rest was fitful and disturbed and peopled by strange fancies a whole lot. I dreamp' he throwed the race!" A chorus of oaths from the bunks.
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