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]
Commodore Jackson:
...
[cough]
Commodore Jackson:
... 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]
Commodore Jackson:
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.
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05/03/2025 alle ore 08:18
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