For three days all the male Pikes in the camp sat on the log in front of
Sam's door, and expressed their sympathy as did the three friends of
Job--that is, they held their peace. But on the fourth their tongues
were unloosed. As a conversationalist the Pike is not a success, but
Sam's actions were so unusual and utterly unheard of, that it seemed as
if even the stones must have wondered and communed among themselves.

"I never heard of such a thing," said Brown Buck; "he's gone an' bought
new clothes for each of the four young 'uns."

"Yes," said the patriarch of the camp, "an' this mornin', when I went
down to the bank to soak my head, 'cos last night's liquor didn't agree
with it, I seed Sam with all his young 'uns as they wuz a washin' their
face an' hands with soap. They'll ketch their death an' be on the hill
with their mother 'fore long, if he don't look out; somebody ort to
reason with him."

"'Twon't do no good," sighed Limping Jim. "He's lost his head, an'
reason just goes into one ear and out at t'other. When he was scrapin'
aroun' the front door t'other day, an' I asked him what he wuz a-layin'
the ground all bare an' desolate for, he said he was done keepin'
pig-pen. Now everybody but him knows he never had a pig. His head's
gone, just mark my words."

On the morning of the fourth day Sam's friends had just secured a full
attendance on the log, and were at work upon their first pipes, when
they were startled by seeing Sam harness his horse in the wagon and put
all his children into it.