The guest, growing insistent, asked the third time, as he took a single, hesitating step upward, “Well, who are they—can’t you say just how many?” Madame Calico, now on the defensive, grew more amiable—rather, less hostile—, but again took refuge in “the mill” and its shutting down: “Sence the mill wuz shot down, the’ve mos’ly all went away; they’s hardly any ub ’em left now.” The guest was growing impatient, as she could readily see. Not liking the outlook, he stopped, turned as if to descend, and once more demanded, “Well, Madam, will you tell me just how many or not?” She was loath to lose her guest and his pay, “after a-bein’ drug out’n” her bed. So she at last came to the point, but in her own roundabout way: “Sence the mill ’uz shot down they hain’t nobody sca’cely sleeps up hyer—nobody but Sam Thompson, an’ Tim Turney, an’ Joe Alley, an’ Bob Redford, an’ Jack Johnson, an’ Bill Ed Jeckley—I b’lieve them’s all—oh, yes, an’ Less Wilson. You kin sleep with Bill Ed, but he won’t sleep nowhar exceptin’ the fore side uv the bed.” “Well,” the traveler muttered to himself, “in an adventure, even a formidable certainty is better than a gloomy doubt.” They had now reached the landing at the angle in the wall. Madame Calico handed the little lamp to the guest, and turned to go, saying, “You kin bunk up with Bill Ed.” “But how shall I know Bill Ed from the others?” he asked. “W’y, he’s in the empty bed by hisself; t’others is a-sleepin’ three an’ four tergether. Bill Ed won’t sleep ’ith none uv ’em, ’caze, he says, he ruther sleep ’ith a meal-sack uv augers an’ hammers then ’ith a man. Sometimes I jist have to slip a stranger like you in terhin’ him, an’ Bill Ed don’t know nothin’ about it tell mornin’.” As she clambered down the gangway, hugging the wall, and the new guest crept up into the garret, he called out, “What time do we rise in the morning?” “Oh, most any time,” she answered. “Sence the mill ’uz shot down, ever’ feller jist suits hisself about crawlin’ out.” “About what hour?” he asked. “Well, when the mill ’uz a-runnin’ we used to git up purty soon, but sence hit ’uz shot down we’re all sorter lazy-like, so we purty giner’ly al’ays have late eatin’.” “But, Madam, please name the hour for breakfast,” he insisted. “Well, you kin do purty much to suit yerself sence the mill ’uz shot down. Jest sleep ez late as yer please. We al’ays eat late when comp’ny’s hyer, sence the mill ’uz shot down. So you git yer hands an’ face washed an’ ready by four o’clock’ll do.” No wonder the mill hands went to bed before nightfall! They had to, in order to get in in time to get out. Till now, the sounds coming down from the garret had blended into something like harmony. When the new guest neared the top of the gangway, it seemed to him like poking his head into a den of infuriated wild beasts. The roaring, growling and groaning made “confusion dire and dreadful din.”