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Updated: May 14, 2025
Bill's sire a savage who's 'way up in the picture kyards, an' who's called 'Crooked Claw' because of his left hand bein' put out of line with a Ute arrow through it long ago gives his consent to Bill j'inin' that sem'nary. Crooked Claw can't he'p himse'f; he's powerless; the Great Father in Washin'ton is backin' the play of the philanthrofists.
Also, bein' praised by the medicine men an' older bucks for quittin' his paleface duds; an' findin' likewise the old-time blanket an' breech-clout healthful an' saloobrious which Bill forgets their feel in his four years at that sem'nary he adheres to 'em. This lapse into aboriginal ways brews trouble for Bill; he gets up ag'inst the agent.
Every Wednesday and Saturday Andrew Jackson Jefferson, whose name was as queer a combination as himself, for he seemed to be about half horse, so wonderful was his understanding of those animals, and so more than wonderful theirs of him, took his "yo'ng sem'nary ladies a-gallopin' th'oo de windin's ob de kentry roads," proud as a Drum Major of his charges.
"I'll shay this for you, Rex you may be soft-hearted ol' slob, you may be half-witted donkey I'm not denyin' all that 'n more, but I'll shay thish you're the bes' man to go on a drunk with in in in The'logican Sem'nary. I'm not 'xceptin' th' " "Shut up, Billy," remarked Rex, not for the first time that night. "I'd get myself pulled together a bit if I were you," he advised.
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