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difficult, as owls don't have one. But now we are looking for herbs. See, over there is Insha Duwack, Indian tobacco. We will get some of that to sell. It is not good for you but some people still smoke it."
    There were many of the thorn apples in the weed-choked ground, and when they had finished, their baskets were a quarter full of the green, spiky pods. The Indian tobacco grew along a fence, heavy with vines. In spite of the lateness of the year, a few faded blue flowers clung to it. They collected only the broad leaves and then left the field.
    "Don't you feel bad about selling people things that hurt them?" asked Billy as they trudged along.
    "Once I tried only to help people, but they come here from the city in great numbers and ruin everything. That field where we were was once a fine place with good herbs, trees, and flowers. A man tried to make a lot of money fast without changing his crops or using manure. So it is now a desert where only poisons grow. Such people are worse than Insha Duwack."
    "There are plenty of good people too."
    "The good people have no faith in me. They say I have no power, when many times I have stopped the flow of blood by laying my hands on the place and saying a prayer. They laugh when I say that animals are like humans, only thinking a little differently. Yet you will see I know how animals think, and that these people who laugh at me do not. I do not care what happens to the rest of the world. If they want to poison themselves, let them."
    They continued on, Billy pondering on what the old man had said. Although Abe Zook had spoken sneeringly, there was a note of despair in his voice that frightened the boy. He had a feeling that Zook was striking out resentfully at a world that he did not understand and that had no use for him. He was in revolt against a system that he hated and yet was powerless to change. Billy knew the feeling, but he had thought that only young people felt that way. Older people always conformed and approved of the existing system. It was young people who were rebels.
    They stopped by an ancient graveyard about the size of a tennis court, surrounded by a waist-high stone wall. Some of the tombstones bore pre-Revolutionary dates, but these had become so worn that it was almost impossible to read them. Billy looked at the place with awe, not because it was a graveyard but because it was so old, secluded, and quiet. Here they gathered the purple leaves of henbane growing along the base of the wall. Zook bruised the leaves and let the boy smell them. They smelled like tobacco.
    "To get the virtue out of the plant, soak it in alcohol," Abe Zook explained. "It makes one sleep but it is very strong. Only one who knows should handle it. Also grows here Kiehbidders—tansy." But they could find only a few of the plants with their bitter buttons. "For tansy, only one teaspoon to a quart of water. It gives dreams."
    It seemed wonderful to the boy that all these plants were growing free and cost nothing to pick. He wondered if they were really as potent as Abe Zook claimed. They still seemed like weeds to him.
    "Now is time for eating," said the old man. They finished their collecting and sat in a corner of the graveyard with their backs against the wall to eat. From the pockets of his jacket the old man produced two apples, several links of smoked sausage, part of a loaf of bread, and a wedge of cheese. He also had a metal flask of cider.
    They ate and drank in complete contentment. A black walnut tree grew in the yard, and the ground around it was covered with ping-pong sized yellowish fruit that contained the inky nuts. While they watched, a gray squirrel stole over the wall, grabbed a yellow ball and started up. He did well until he reached the top; but here, strips of slate had been laid, forming an inverted V to protect the top, and the squirrel had trouble getting a hold. At last he slipped, and refusing to drop the fruit, went head over tail, hitting the ground with a