“The state! Some big bugs come along and said the Governor sent 'em, and they showed papers and we've got to go.”
“But I know about Hue and Cry!” protested Mayo. “You people have lived there for years!”
“Sure have! My grandfather was one of the first settlers. Most all of us who live there had grandfathers who settled the place. But according to what is told us, some heirs have found papers what say that they own the island. The state bought out the heirs. Now the state says get off. We're only squatters, state says.”
“But, good Caesar, man, you have squatter rights after all these years. Hire a lawyer. Fight the case!”
“We ain't fighters. 'Ain't got no money—'ain't got no friends. Might have fit plain heirs, but you can't fight the state—leastways, poor cusses like us can't.”
“Where are you going?”
“Well, there's the problem! That's what made me say that this world is full of trouble. You see, we have taken town help in years past—had to do it or starve winters. And we have had state aid, too. They say that makes paupers of us. Every town round about has served notice that we can't settle there and gain pauper residence. Hue and Cry 'ain't ever been admitted to any town. Towns say, seeing that the state has ordered us off, now let the state take care of us.”
“And men have been here, representing the state?”
“You bet they have.”
“What do they say?”