rose above his bare brown
shoulders and his upper chest, likewise exposed. His only body
covering was an undershirt, or two undershirts. Their flannel
over-covering had left them apparently some time since, and as for the
remnant, it had known such wear that his arms, brown as those of an
Indian, were bare to the elbows. He was always thus, so far as any
neighbor could have remembered him, save that in the winter time he
cast a sheepskin coat over all. His short legs were clad in blue
overalls, so far as their outside cover was concerned, or at least the
overalls once had been blue, though now much faded. Under these, as
might be seen by a glance at their bottoms, were two, three, or
possibly even more, pairs of trousers, all borne up and suspended at
the top by an intricate series of ropes and strings which crossed his
half-bare shoulders. One might have searched all of Sim Gage's cabin
and have found on the wall not one article of clothing--he wore all he
had, summer and winter. And as he was now, so he had been ever since
his nearest neighbor could remember. A picture of indifference, apathy
and hopelessness, he stood, every rag and wrinkle of him sharply
outlined in the clear air.

He stood uncertainly now, his foot turned over, as he always stood,
there seeming never at any time any determination or even animation
about him. And yet he longed, apparently, for some sort of human
companionship, but still he argued with his friend and asked him not to
hurry away.

None the less after a few moments Wid Gardner did turn away. He passed
out at the rail bars which fenced off the front yard from the
willow-covered banks of a creek which ran nearby. A half-dozen head of
mixed cattle followed him up to the gate, seeking a wider world. A
mule thrust out his long head from a window of the log stable where it
was imprisoned, and brayed at him anxiously, also seeking outlet.

But Sim Gage, apathetic, one foot lopped over, showed no agitation and
no ambition. The wisp of grass which hung now from the corner of his
mouth seemed to suit him for the time. He stood chewing and looking at
his departing visitor.

"Some folks is _too_ damn dirty," said Wid Gardner to himself as he
passed now along the edge of the willow bank toward the front gate of
his own ranch, a half-mile up the stream. "And him talking about a
woman!" He flung out his hand in disgust at the mere thought.

That is to say, he did at first. The