"I allers sleep hangin' on a gambrel, between two slabs." While Mr.Tom Buffum's "women" were laughing, Jim lifted off his pack, placed his rifle in the corner of the room, and sat down in front of the fire, running on with his easygoing tongue through preposterous stories, and sundry flattering allusions to the beauty and attractiveness of the women to whose hospitalities he had committed himself.
After supper, to which he did full justice, the family drew around the evening fire, and while Mr.Buffum went, or seemed to go, to sleep, in his chair, his guest did his best to entertain the minor members of the group.
"This hollerin' ye have here reminds me," said Jim, "of Number Nine.
Ther's some pretty tall hollerin' thar nights.

Do ye see how my ha'r sticks up?
I can't keep it down.

It riz one night jest about where you see it now, and it's mostly been thar ever sence.

Combin' don't do no good Taller don't do no good.

Nothin' don't do no good.