Oneotah lowered her head and made a playful butt at Cute, who dodged her nimbly, and got behind Percy, crying out:
“None of that! If you are well-bred, don’t be a butter!”
Oneotah laughed merrily at Cute’s apprehension.
“That’s right, my jolly red boy,” continued the fat youth. “And now, Anteloper, don’t you think you had better be a sloper? The Prophet has invited us to a lunch, where we can ‘sup full of horrors’—a nice little hash of goblins, spooks, demons, ghosts and spirits.” Then he began to sing:
“‘Red spirits and white, black spirits and gray,
Mingle, mingle, you that mingle may!’”
“Hush!” cried Percy. “You’ll scare the owls!”
“The what?”
“The owls!”
“Let ’em scare! Who’s afraid? If with my howls I scare the owls, let ’em decamp to some adjacent shade!”