"Folks used to look at the goats that I'd maybe just hazed off into the brush fifty yards or so with a thousand pounds mebby of rocks, an' some woman in goggles would say, 'Oh, an' you keep goats! How nice!' like as if it were something peaceful an' homelike to keep goats! Hunh! Lemme tell yuh; never drive past a place that _looks_ peaceful, and jump at the idea it _is_ peaceful.

They may be a woman behind them vines poisinin' 'er husband's father.

How could them darn tourists tell'what was goin' on in Patmos?
They seen the goats pertendin' to graze, an' keepin' an eye peeled till my back was turned, an' they thought it was _nice_ to keep goats.

Hunh!" At last Casey could bear no more.

He gathered together enough hardwood, three-inch crate slats to make twelve crates, and he worked for three nights, making them.