Transcript.
[In the hills to the north of Calton Creek, one fine morning, a wisp of indian smoke arises on the balmy air … the air has been balmy since Fred Allen went on it..]
Foyre: “How'd ye like that for a wisp, Eagle Beak?”
Eagle Beak: “I've seen wus wisps mister Foyer …..”
[Note: This mister Foyre geezer is the official smoke signaler … there is no smoke without Foyre.
[The ominous smoke signal is seen by a cow-boy on the early shift … this is the bloke what looks after cows that get up before dawn….]
Cow-boy: "Lawshamighty! Them pesky blackfeet movin into Pawnee territory! Goin to be trouble ah reckon … yes suh …."
[The vigilant cow-boy is not far out in his guess, for at the Blackfeet camp…]
[Sign: Late nite WAR DANCE 25 cents. Tommy Hawk and his Wig Wammers.]
Dancing Braves: "Ye put yer black foot in, ya put your black foot out …"
Indian01: "Break it up boys! Let's have a Paul Jones."
Indian02: "I'm sitting this one out … my blackfeet are killing me … Phew that peace pipe o yours smells like the Reichstag fire … wotcha burnin Bub?"
Indian03: "Wicked aint it? It's the empire grown stuff…."
Indian04: "Ol Toffee Teeth's Pawnees will never know what hit 'em when we attack…."
indian05: "You're right! We'll moider de bums!"