"Oh, is that you, Tusk?" she exclaimed more hospitably. "I've tuck so much quinine a body can't hear their ears! Come in an' set!"
"Naw, I reckon not," he evasively replied. "Tell him to come on out!"
The door closed and, after a wait of several minutes, Tom glided around the corner of the house. He preferred this to coming the direct way. There were many things in common between Tusk and Tom.
"Hullo, Tusk," he said.
"Hullo, Tom."
They stood for awhile in awkward silence. Finally Tusk got out his knife and began to whittle on the gate. Tom watched this, then reached into his own pocket and produced a twist of long-green tobacco from which he gnawed off a chew.
"Got any licker 'bout you?" he asked.
"A mite," Tusk answered, and by mutual consent they moved farther down the road.
After having each tipped the bottle, Tusk announced:
"I'm buhned out!"