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Yeah
.
Well
...
three
dollars
of
regular
.
They
would
n't
be
so
cocky
if
they
knew
what
me
and
the
moon
have
going
.
No
damned
regular
Indian
...
He
who
--
what
was
it
?
--
walks
out
of
step
,
hears
another
drum
.
Snake
eyes
again
.
Hoo
boy
,
these
dice
are
cold
.
After
Grandma
's
funeral
me
and
Papa
and
Uncle
Runningand-Jumping
Wolf
dug
her
up
.
Mama
would
n't
go
with
us
;
she
never
heard
of
such
a
thing
.
Hanging
a
corpse
in
a
tree
!
It
's
enough
to
make
a
person
sick
.
Uncle
R
&
J
Wolf
and
Papa
spent
twenty
days
in
the
drunk
tank
at
The
Dalles
jail
,
playing
rummy
,
for
Violation
of
the
Dead
.
But
she
's
our
goddanged
mother
!
It
does
n't
make
the
slightest
difference
,
boys
.
You
shoulda
left
her
buried
.
I
do
n't
know
when
you
blamed
Indians
will
learn
.
Now
,
where
is
she
?
you
'd
better
tell
.
Ah
go
fuck
yourself
,
paleface
,
Uncle
R
&
J
said
,
rolling
himself
a
cigarette
.
I
'll
never
tell
.
High
high
high
in
the
hills
,
high
in
a
pine
tree
bed
,
she
's
tracing
the
wind
with
that
old
hand
,
counting
the
clouds
with
that
old
chant
:
...
three
geese
in
a
flock
...
