"That's Old Grouchy. He's the road monkey and you'll find him on the east road about this time of day," directed the clerk.
"Good morning," was the greeting of the missionary as he came up to the road monkey.
"Mornin'," answered Old Grouchy, in non-committal tones.
"Your roads are in fine shape, almost perfect," said the missionary, sparring for an opening.
"Bad, infernally bad," answered the road monkey.
"Like the job?" asked the preacher to encourage conversation.
"Yes, the way the damned like their lodgings," burst out Old Grouchy. "But what is it to you whether I like it or not? You can't change it."
Before the preacher could make reply the little dog came out of the woods, where he had been in pursuit of a pine squirrel, and came to the minister for attention. It was a dog of many breeds, but the road monkey's eyes fell upon it lovingly and the minister saw the look.
"A good friend of yours, I suppose," said the Sky Pilot.
"The only friend I have," and the tone was soft and reflective.