"Alfred Henry Lewis - How the Raven Died" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lewis Alfred Henry)

black coat he's a sight to frighten children or sour milk! Still, Jeffords is
all right. As long as towerists an' other inquisitive people don't go pesterin'
Jeffords, he shore lets 'em alone. Otherwise, you might as well be up the same
saplin' with a cinnamon b'ar; which you'd most likely hear something drop a lot!

"For myse'f, I likes old Jeffords, an' considers him a pleasin' conundrum. About
tenth drink time he'd take a cha'r an' go camp by himse'f in a far corner, an'
thar he'd warble hymns. Many a time as I files away my nosepaint in the Oriental
have I been regaled with
"'Jesus, Lover of my soul,
Let me to Thy bosom fly,
While the nearer waters roll,
While the tempest still is high,'
as emanatin' from Jeffords where he's r'ared back conductin' some personal
services. Folks never goes buttin' in interferin' with these concerts; which
it's cheaper to let him sing.
"Speakin' of Injuns, as I su'gests, I never does see overmuch of 'em in
Wolfville. An' my earlier experiences ain't thronged with 'em neither, though
while I'm workin' cattle along the Red River I does carom on Injuns more or
less. Thar's one old hostile I recalls speshul; he's a fool Injun called Black
Feather— Choctaw, he is. This Black Feather's weakness is fire-water; he thinks
more of it than some folks does of children.
"Black Feather used to cross over to where Dick Stocton maintains 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' shotguns, an' loves licker, seven-up, an' Sill 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 Hawg-thief 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.