Mississippi1935

Commodore Jackson:
...unsheathing my Bowie knife, I cut a path through this wall of human flesh, dragging my canoe behi [wooden Indian passes by the door whose top half is open, startling him]... [cough]... behind me. Since that time of course, the noble red man and his pale faced friends have smoked the pipe of peace. [another Indian passes by - pause and cringes] Why I wouldn't of more think now of harming a hair on a red man's head than I would sticking a fork in my mother's back. Heh... why, some of my best friends are Indians... Shug Indians.