“He is a Comanche. He is ‘Heavy Ox.’ We’ll creep up to him from two sides.”
“Black Panther” and “Flying Arrow” crept across the plot of sand with sly, watchful eyes. Then “Black Panther” sprang up like a steel spring released and swung his lasso. “Heavy Ox” was caught. They tied him to the seat as to a torture post. “Heavy Ox” did not seem to notice anything. From behind, “Black Panther” even managed to put on his head a chieftain’s feather crown consisting of some crow’s feathers pushed into the ribbon of an old, brimless, tattered straw hat. But “Heavy Ox” sat there with his new and wonderful ornament as solemnly and as apathetically unconcerned as ever.
Shrill laughter from “Flying Arrow” greeted this ridiculous apparition.
They began to dance round their victim. Swinging their tomahawks and their bows, they danced to the accompaniment of wild cries of excitement.
“‘Heavy Ox’ can’t get free! ‘Heavy Ox’ is fat and stupid! ‘Heavy Ox’ shall die. ‘Heavy Ox’ is fat and stupid!”
This sudden wild joy quite surprised the Crow Indians themselves. They perhaps did not know that there was vengeance in this game. And how much had they not to avenge! How well they might have called out to “Heavy Ox”: “That is for the hundreds of meals that were made disgusting by your nasty snuffling! That’s for your horrid snuffle and for your dull eyes that don’t see us! That’s for the neglect, the ruin, the incurable wounds to our tender beings! That’s for the great musty hole in which we spend our childhood.”
Tired of dancing they sat down to smoke a calumet, whilst still deriding and challenging their bound enemy.
“Heavy Ox” had taken no more notice of his tormentors than of the flies that buzzed around him. But now he showed signs of restlessness. And his restlessness was always of the same kind:
“Is it time for supper soon?” he stammered.
Then they jumped up again and began to dance with a renewal of their wild exultation: