“Stay back there now!” he croaked. “Just keep your distance, sport. I’ve got nothing you’re after – unless it’s the cheese, and you can have that. If it’s meat you want, I’m nothing but gristle, but I’ll fight to keep it. Back now! back!”

“I’m not a sport, good simpleton,” said Brother Francis, using the polite address. He tossed back his hood to show his monastic haircut and held up his rosary beads. “Do you understand these?”

After a brief scrutiny, the pilgrim straightened. “Oh – one of them.” He leaned on his staff and scowled.

– A Canticle For Leibowitz by Walter M. Miller, Jr. (1959)