"No; I don't expect any humanity from any human being that knows anything about me. I am treated as if I were the devil himself, and hadn't the power or wish to do anything save rob and murder. The public should keep such as I am in prison the rest of our lives, or else cut our throats. But this sending us out in the world to starve, and to be kicked and cuffed during the process, is scarcely in keeping with the Bible civilization they are always boasting of." He spoke recklessly and bitterly, and his experience made his words appear to him only too true. But his shrivelled and shrunken auditor grinned appreciatively, and said, with more than his usual vindictive emphasis: "A-a-h! that's the right kind of talk. Now you're gittin' past all this make-believin' to the truth. We're a cussed mean set--we folk who go to church and read the Bible, and then do just what the devil tells us, a-helpin him along all the time. Satan's got a strong grip on you, from all I hear, and we're all a-helpin' him keep it. You've gone half way to the devil, and all the good people tell you to go the rest of the way, for they won't have anything to do with you. Hain't that the way?" "Oh, no," said Haldane with a bitter sneer; "some of the good people to whom you refer put themselves out so far as to give me a little advice." "What was it wuth to you? Which would you ruther--some good advice from me, or the job of sawin' the wood there?" "Give me the saw--no matter about the advice," said Haldane, throwing off his coat. "A-a-h! wasn't I a fool to ask that question? Well, I don't belong to the good people, so go ahead--I don't s'pose you know much about sawin' wood, bro't up as you've been; but you can't do it wuss than me. I don't belong to any one. What I was made for I can't see, unless it is to be a torment to myself. Nobody can stand me. I can't stand myself. I've got a cat and dog that will stay with me, and sometimes I'll git up and kick 'em jest for the chance of cussin' myself for doin' it." "And yet you are the first man in town that has shown me any practical kindness," said Haldane, placing another stick on his saw-buck. "Well, I kinder do it out o' spite to myself. There's somethin' inside of me sayin' all the time, 'Why are you spendin' time and money on this young scapegrace? It'll end in your havin' to give him a dinner, for you can't be so blasted mean as to let him go without it, and yet all the time you're wishin' that you needn't do it.'" "Well, you need not," said Haldane. "Yes, I must, too." "All I ask of you is what you think that work is worth."