Rolling Stones Page: 51
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John Tom Little Bear
again, restless, crying easy, as females do for their own
amusement, and she looks down that road again and lis-
tens. 'Now, ma'am,' says I, 'there's no use watching
cold wheel-tracks. By this time they're halfway to
' 'Hush,' she says, holding up her hand. And I
do hear something coming 'flip-flap' in the dark; and then
there is the awfulest war-whoop ever heard outside of
Madison Square Garden at a Buffalo Bill matinee. And
up the steps and on to the porch jumps the disrespectable
Indian. The lamp in the hall shines on him, and I fail
to recognize Mr. J. T. Little Bear, alumnus of the class of
'91. What I see is a Cherokee brave, and the warpath is
what he has been travelling. Firewater and other things
have got him going. His buckskin is hanging in strings,
and his feathers are mixed up like a frizzly hen's. The
dust of miles is on his moccasins, and the light in his eye is
the kind the aborigines wear. But in his arms he brings
that kid, his eyes half closed, with his little shoes dangling
and one hand fast around the Indian's collar.
"'Pappoose!' says John Tom, and I notice that the
flowers of the white man's syntax have left his tongue.
He is the original proposition in bear's claws and copper
color. 'Me bring,' says he, and he lays the kid in his
mother's arms. 'Run fifteen mile,' says John Tom -
'Ugh! Catch white man. Bring pappoose.'
"The little woman is in extremities of gladness. She
must wake up that stir-up trouble youngster and hug him
and make proclamation that he is his mamma's own pre-
cious treasure. I was about to ask questions, but I looked
rl I ' 1
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Henry, O., 1862-1910. Rolling Stones, book, 1912; Garden City, New York. (texashistory.unt.edu/ark:/67531/metapth139359/m1/83/: accessed July 20, 2017), University of North Texas Libraries, The Portal to Texas History, texashistory.unt.edu; crediting Austin History Center, Austin Public Library.