sich. But you don't never seem to get us -- that is.
most o' you! Why, 'tain't nothin' but sign lan-;
guage, neither -- same as Injuns talkin' to whites;
But I reckon you're idiots, most o' you, and blind;
you hairless animals, wearin' stuff stole offen
sheep, and your ugly white faces mostly smooth.
You got the idee we don't know nothin' -- pity
us, I s'pose, because we can't understand you.
Lawzee! We understand you, all right. It's you
'at don't understand us. And that's the hull
trouble. You think we're just a lump o' common
dirt, with a little tincture o' movement added,
just enough so as we can run and drag your loads
around for you. Wisht you could 'a' heard me
and old Tom last night, after you'd all turned in;
talkin' on the subject o' keepin' well and strong
and serene o' mind. Sign language? Some;
But what of it, old whiskers? Don't every deef-
and-dumb party get along with few sounds and
plenty of signs? You humans give me mortal
distress!'

"And so on," concluded this lover of animals.
"Thus Lady horse used to talk to me every
mornin', tryin' to make me see things some little
clearer. And that's all animals -- if you happen
to know the 'try me' on their little old middle
chamber work." He fell silent.

The others said nothing. Each sat smoking
reflectively, gazing into the dying flames, until
one arose and prepared to turn in. Stephen was
the last except the Professor and the man with
the scrubby beard. And finally the Professor

[[224]]

p223 _ -chap- _ toc-1 _ p224w _ toc-2 _ +chap+ _ p225

v?