arms, which were long and
lean, seemed to start from somewhere near his waist.

His body started forward from the hips, and he used his hands in a
deprecating fashion that seemed to beseech so much recognition as might
be conveyed in a passing kick.

He was muscular to a degree that would never be guessed from his
make-up, but the camp was possessed with a sense of shame at tolerating
his presence, and protected its self-respect by reminding him
continually that he was considered beneath contempt.

Simon seemed quite unconscious of the difference between the truth and a
lie. It was not that he lied from malice--the hands said he hadn't
"spunk" enough to know what malice was--but sheer mental obliquity led
him to lie by preference, unless he saw reason to believe that the truth
would conciliate his comrades.

He used to steal tobacco and other trifles whenever he found a good
opportunity, and when he was caught his repentance was that of fear
rather than of shame.

At the same time, the poor wretch was thoroughly courageous in the face
of some physical and external dangers. The puniest man in camp could cow
him with a look, yet none was prompter than he to face the grave perils
of breaking a log-jam, and there was no cooler hand than his in the
risky labors of stream-driving. Altogether he was a disagreeable problem
to the lumbermen,--who resented any element of pluck in one so unmanly
and meagre-spirited as he was.

In spite of their contempt, however, they could ill have done without
this cringing axeman. He did small menial services for his fellows, was
ordered about at all times uncomplainingly, and bore the blame for
everything that went wrong in the Gornish Camp.

When one of the hands was in a particularly bad humor, he could always
find some relief for his feelings by kicking Gillsey in the shins, at
which Gillsey would but smile an uneasy protest, showing the conspicuous
absence of his upper front teeth.

Then again the Gornish Camp was waggishly inclined. The hands were much
addicted to practical jokes. It was not always wholesome to play these
on each other, but Gillsey afforded a safe object for the ingenuity of
the backwoods wit.

For instance, whenever the men thought it was time to "chop a fellow
down," in default of a greenhorn from the older settlements they would
select Gillsey for the victim, and order that reluctant scarecrow up to
the tree-top. This was much like the hunting of a tame fox,