A great creaking and groaning is heard, and a dirty tattered, heavily laden, ox cart comes to a stop outside.

A tall lanky man walks in the door wearing a leather apron blackened with burn marks. He carries no guns but has a four pound hammer in a frog attached to his belt.

Bertram Black's me name - Smiffy - lookin' fer a place to set up me fire. 'Ow did I git 'ere? I'll tell yer 'ow I gawt 'ere. I worz wiv Packenam's crahd dahn in Noo Orleens I worz. Chief armorah they called me, huh! sum bloody armorah! I'm a bleedin' blacksmiff. But they couldn't find a propar armorah so they went and cornscipted me, the barstuds. Wull I showed 'em orl right, while they wuz runnin' froo the bloody swomps wiv their bloody tails between their bloody legs. I jest loaded me gear in the wagon drove orf, di'n I. No wun ever missed me.

So's I says to meself, "Bertrum me ol' mate, you doan wanna be 'angin' 'rahnd 'ere when eever side gits back from their little scrap" and I took aht west. Gort away clean as a bloody whistle.

Bin doin' a bi' ov smiffin 'ere an' there ter earn a bob or two, but ahm lookin' fer a place to set up, permanent like. So if there's a spare 'arf acre rahnd 'ere I'll set up me fire. I'm a bit ov a smiff, an' a bit ov a weelrite, an' a bit ov a farriyar, but I ain't no bloody tinker so doan go bringin' me yer bloody pots an' pans ter mend.

Nah, 'ah's abaht a mug of that pigs ear wiv a drorp ov that whisky innit, worm it up a bit like. Gor, that' more likit, warms the cockles ov yer bloody arse that duz.