“Sure. Anybody own this place, that we got to see ’fore we can camp?”
The bearded man squinted one eye nearly closed and studied Pa. “You wanta camp here?”
Pa’s irritation arose. The gray woman peered out of the burlap shack. “What you think I’m a-sayin’?” Pa said.
“Well, if you wanta camp here, why don’t ya? I ain’t a-stoppin’ you.”
Tom laughed. “He got it.”
Pa gathered his temper. “I jus’ wanted to know does anybody own it? Do we got to pay?”
The bearded man thrust out his jaw. “Who owns it?” he demanded.
Pa turned away. “The hell with it,” he said. The woman’s head popped back in the tent.
The bearded man stepped forward menacingly. “Who owns it?” he demanded. “Who’s gonna kick us outa here? You tell me.”
Tom stepped in front of Pa. “You better go take a good long sleep,” he said. The bearded man dropped his mouth open and put a dirty finger against his lower gums. For a moment he continued to look wisely, speculatively at Tom, and then he turned on his heels and popped into the shack after the gray woman.