The Injun ain't got no brakes on his wheels.

Injuns is a good deal like white brats.
Let 'em find the sugar tub when their ma is to meetin' an' they won't worry 'bout the bellyache till it comes.

Them Injuns filled themselves to the gullet an' begun to lay back, all swelled up, an' roll an' grunt an' go to sleep.

By an' by they was only two that was up an' pawin' eround in the stew pot fer 'nother bone, lookin' kind o' unsart'tn an' jaw weary.

In a minute they wiped their hands on their ha'r an' lay back fer rest.