carry. And there was about his management of his arms a peculiar
awkwardness which only the very strongest of men exhibit--as if they
were burdened by the weight of their mere dangling hands.

This giant, having placed his eyes in shadow, peered for a long moment
at Haw-Haw Langley, but very soon his glance began to waver. It flashed
towards the wall--it came back and rested upon Langley again. He was
like a dog, restless under a steady stare. And as Haw-Haw Langley noted
this a glitter of joy came in his beady eyes.

"You're Jerry's man," said Mac Strann at length.

There was about his voice the same fleshy quality that was in his face;
it came literally from his stomach, and it made a peculiar rustling
sound such as comes after one has eaten sticky sweet things. People
could listen to the voice of Mac Strann and forget that he was speaking
words. The articulation ran together in a sort of glutinous mass.

"I'm a friend of Jerry's," said the other. "I'm Langley."

The big man stretched out his hand. The hair grew black, down to the
knuckles; the blood of the bear still streaked it; it was large enough
to be an organism with independent life. But when Langley, with some
misgiving, trusted his own bony fingers within that grasp, in was only
as if something fleshy, soft, and bloodless had closed over them. When
his hand was released he rubbed it covertly against his trowser leg--to
remove dirt--restore the circulation. He did not know why.

"Who's bothering Jerry?" asked Mac Strann. "And where is he?"