“Why, don’t you see that thing up against that mountain that runs down to the river? It looks like a man with his fist doubled up goin’ to hit somebody.”
“I see a brown patch against the mountain side surrounded by green that has something the shape of a man—is that what you mean?”
“Yes, what is it?”
“A patch of brown surrounded by grass or bushes.”
“Well, what does it mean?”
“I don’t know.”
“How did it come there?”
“Because the grass or bushes grew around it, I suppose.”
“Well, but I mean does it mean anything? It looks like a big man.”
“Life is short, little boy. But if it means anything, it is the photograph of the presiding genius of the Hot Sulphur Springs.”