He saw a stranger, a young buck of a redneck in overalls with paint and grass stains covering the fabric. He wore no shirt, revealing a broad, ruddy and work-toned chest. He had on heavy work-boots stained with mud. His dirty blond hair was long and scraggly. Then he cleared his throat and spoke, in a deep, lowcountry South Carolina accent, but sounding like he was trying to speak as politely as he could.