‘Well, I reckon there ain’t no great hurry, come to think of it,’ the gold-tooth one says.

‘Now you’re talkin’,’ Uncle Sagamore says. He took the old plug of tobacco out of his pocket, rubbed it on his overall leg to get off some of the lint and dirt and the roofing tack that was sticking to it, and bit off a big chew.

‘Want to make you acquainted with my kinfolks,’ he went on. ‘This is my brother Sam and his boy. Sam’s in the investment business in New York. Sam, say howdy to the shurf’s boys. The high-pockets one with the chicken fat in his hair is Booger Ledbetter, and the other one, with that kiss-me-quick moustache, is Otis Sears.’

‘Howdy,’ Pop says.

‘Howdy,’ Booger says.

‘Howdy,’ Otis says.

Nobody said anything else for a minute or two. We all just sat there hunkered down looking at each other. I was on one side of Uncle Sagamore and Pop was on the other, and the two sheriff’s men was on the top step, in front of us. I could hear that bug going buz-z-z-z out in the trees again. Then a little breeze come along and the smell got awful. The sheriff’s men fanned harder with their hats.

‘You boys warm?’ Uncle Sagamore asked.

‘Well, not exactly,’ Booger says. ‘It’s just that smell. Get’s sort of rank at times.’

‘Smell?’ Uncle Sagamore asked. He looked at them kind of puzzled, and then at Pop. ‘You smell anything, Sam?’

Pop quit waving the air with his hat. ‘Why, no,’ he says, surprised like. ‘What kind of a smell?’

Uncle Sagamore looked back at Booger and Otis. ‘You sure you boys ain’t just imaginin’ it? Where does it seem to be coming from?’

‘Why, I thought from the tubs over there,’ Booger says.

‘You don’t mean my tannery, do you?’ Uncle Sagamore asked.

‘Well—uh,’ Booger says, looking at the end of the shotgun again. ‘I thought there was a sort of smell coming from over there, but maybe I was wrong.’

‘Sure is funny,’ Uncle Sagamore says. ‘I ain’t noticed a thing, myself. But I’m glad you boys mentioned it; reminds me it’s time for them two on the end to dreen a little. They been soakin’ for nine days now, and I better hang ’em up. I’ll be right back.’

He got up with the shotgun under his arm and walked over to the end of the porch. He stepped down and lifted the old cowhide out of the end tub with a stick and threw it over the clothes line, kind of spreading it out. Then he took the next one out and spread it on the line too. They begin to drip brownish water onto the ground.

They was bad enough before, but now when they was out in the air it was awful. They was only ten or twelve feet away, and with the air circulating around ’em and then blowing over us in the little breeze I could feel my eyes watering and my breath choking up in my throat.

Booger and Otis was looking a little sick. They would breathe real slow and easy, and fan with their hats, and then they’d look at Uncle Sagamore and quit fanning and just try not to breathe any more than they had to.

Uncle Sagamore come back and sat down with his back against the door jamb and the shotgun over his knees. He didn’t seem to notice the smell at all.

‘I was kinda wantin’ to show you boys my tannery,’ he says. ‘Bein’ in the gov’ment, so to speak, you’re probably interested in new industries and the like, and the different ways a man can scrabble around and break his back to make enough money to pay his taxes.