ten o'clock
The doctor , with a Navajo blanket about his shoulders , was executing a war dance , while Jimmie and Mr. Witherspoon beat on war drums -- two of our copper kettles , now permanently dented . Fancy Sandy ! It 's the first youthful glimmer I have ever caught in the man . After ten o'clock , when the braves were safely stowed for the night , the three men came in and limply dropped into comfortable chairs in my library , with the air of having made martyrs of themselves in the great cause of charity . But they did not deceive me . They originated all that tomfoolery for their own individual delectation . So far Mr. Percy Witherspoon appears fairly happy .