“Tramp⁠—tramp⁠—tramp; that’s the dead; tramp⁠—tramp⁠—tramp; they’re coming after me; but I won’t go. Oh, they’re here! don’t touch me⁠—don’t! hands off⁠—they’re cold; let go. Oh, let a poor devil alone!”

Then he went down on all fours and crawled off, begging them to let him alone, and he rolled himself up in his blanket and wallowed in under the old pine table, still a-begging; and then he went to crying. I could hear him through the blanket.