They ain't got nothin' on exceptin' rags.

An' they're sick.
Their faces, an' hands, an' legs is all sores." "He's heard the story in church or somewhere--you remember, the healing of the lepers in Luke," the missionary said with a smile of satisfaction.
"How many sick tramps are there, my boy ?" I had learned to count to a hundred when I was five years old, so I went over the group carefully and announced: "Ten of 'em.

They're all wavin' their arms an' yellin' at the other men." "But they don't come near them ?" was the query.
I shook my head.

"They just stand right there an' keep a-yellin' like they was in trouble." "Go on," urged the missionary.

"What next?
What's the man doing in the front of the other crowd you said was walking along ?" "They've all stopped, an' he's sayin' something to the sick men.