"Oh, you think we don't know northin' here--ain't wuth noticin' 'cause we live in the woods, hey? Well, we do know something. Here, Ase, tell this sport the months of the year, and then let's see if he's stingy enough to keep his plug in his pocket." Ase, plainly her son, lubberly and man-grown, roared without bashfulness: "Jan'warry, Feb'darry, Septober, Ockjuber, Fourth o' July, St. Padrick's Day, and Cris'mus--gimme a chaw!" Two or three men lounged out-of-doors--one with his arm significantly off at the elbow. But there was not even a shadow on his vapid face when he looked at Christopher, author of his misfortune. "Ain't ye goin' to give me a piece of your plug, Chris?" he whined. "Seem's if ye might. You 'n' me's square now--I got your pork and you got my arm." "There! Hear that?" growled Straight, in Wade's ear. "Put your common-sense calipers on this stand of human timber and see what ye make of it." Wade, looking from face to face, as the frowsy population of Misery lounged closer about him, half in indolence, half in the distrustful shyness that the stupidly ignorant usually assume towards superior strangers, noted that though the men displayed an almost canine desire to fawn for favors, the women were sullen. The only exception was a very old woman who hobbled close and entreated: "Ain't you got northin' good for Abe, nice young gentleman? Poor Abe! Hain't got no friend but his old mother." She hooked a hand as blue and gaunt as a turkey's claw into Wade's belt and held up her spotted face so close to his that he turned his head in uncontrollable disgust. "Your hands off the gentleman, Jule," commanded Christopher, brusquely. "It's old Jule, mate of the old he one that has been chasin' us," he explained, with more of that blissful disregard for the feelings of his subjects that had previously shocked the young man. "There's old Jed and young Jed--old Jule and young Jule. They 'ain't even got gumption enough here to change names. And that's Abe--the choice specimen that she's beggin' for. Look at him and wish for a pictur'-machine, Mr. Wade!" He had thought there could be no worse in human guise than those he had seen. But this huge, hairy, shaggy, almost naked giant, cowering against the side of a shack with all the timidity of a child, marked a climax even to such degeneracy as he had quailed before. "Mind in him about five years old, and will always stay five years old," said the guide, pointing to the wistful, simpering face. "Body speaks for itself. Look at them muscles! I've seen him ploughin' hitched with their cow. Clever as a mule. He's the old woman's hoss. Hauls her on a jumper clear to Castonia settlement." "An animal!" Wade gasped. "Not much else. Afraid of the dark, of shadows, and women mostly. Strange women! Once a woman scared him in Castonia and he ran away like a hoss, draggin' the jumper. Old Jule hitched him to a post after that."