pear-trees. "I 'most wish't he'd 'a' done it," he growled to himself.
"I had my hammer in my hand, and I could 'a' finished him then and had
no more bother."

He felt a hand on his shoulder, and, turning, saw a face grinning a
friendly recognition. It was a face whose whole expression was
oleaginous. It was surmounted by a low and shining forehead covered by
reeking black hair, worn rather long, the ends being turned under by
the brush. The mustache was long and drooping, dyed black and profusely
oiled, the dye and the grease forming an inharmonious compound. The
parted lips, which were coarse and thin, displayed an imperfect set of
teeth, much discolored with tobacco. The eyes were light green, with
the space which should have been white suffused with yellow and red. It
was one of those gifted countenances which could change in a moment
from a dog-like fawning to a snaky venomousness.

The man wore a black hat of soft felt; his clothes were black and
glistening with use and grease. He was of medium height, not especially
stout, but still strong and well knit; he moved too briskly for a
tramp, and his eyes were too sly and furtive to belong to an honest
man.

"Well, Samivel!" he began, with a jolly facetiousness, "what's your
noble game this evenin'? You look like you was down on your luck. Is
the fair one unkind?"

Sam turned upon him with an angry gesture.

"Hold your jaw, or I'll break it for you! Ever since I was fool enough
to mention that thing to you, you've been cacklin' about it. I've had