A queer-looking individual was slouching along with ax over his shoulder.
"There's Charley," said Flo.

"He'll show you." Then she whispered: "He's sort of dotty sometimes.

A horse kicked him once.

But mostly he's sensible." At Flo's call the fellow halted with a grin.

He was long, lean, loose jointed, dressed in blue overalls stuck into the tops of muddy boots, and his face was clear olive without beard or line.