They did not smoke the pipe of peace, like red Americans, but, like white Americans, they had a mysterious liquid carefully compounded, and by swallowing this they solemnly sealed their new-made friendship after the curious and unexplained rite in use among their people.
Norman had been dispatched on a collecting trip, and having nine hundred and fifty dollars in his pocket, he felt as much elated as if it had been his own money.

The gentleman with whom he drank, had a band of crape around his white hat.

He seemed very nearsighted.
"If that greeny is a friend of yours, Gus, I declare you'd better tell him not to tie to the serious-looking young fellow in the white hat and gold specs, unless he means to part with all his loose change before bed-time." That is what the mud-clerk drawled to August the striker, but the striker seemed to hear the words as something spoken afar off.

For just then he was seeing a vision of a drunken mob, and a rope, and a pleading woman, and a brave old man threatened with death.

Just then he heard harsh and muddled voices, rude oaths, and jeering laughter, and above it all the sweet pleading of a little girl begging for a father's life.