I be he

From A treasury of American anecdotes; sly, salty, shaggy stories of heroes and hellions, beguilers and buffoons, spellbinders and scapegoats, gagsters and gossips, from the grassroots and sidewalks of America by Benjamin Albert Botkin.  

A theme of clannishness and rejection of the outsider runs through a lot of Vermont stories.

One couple bought an old house and started down the road to find a man named Olin Warren, who, they had been told, not only lived in the neighborhood but would be willing to make some basic repairs on the house. After walking about a half mile, they saw a man cutting the roadside brush with a scythe.

Do you know where Olin Warren lives?” asked the wife.

Without looking up, the man said, “Yup.”

They waited for information. None came. 

“Will you tell us where he lives?” the husband asked.

The man put down his scythe and pointed to a small house a mile up on the mountain. 

“It's quite a walk,” the husband continued. “You don’t happen to know if he’s home or not, do you?” 

“Nope,” said the man. “He ain’t home.” Then he looked at the couple for the first time. “What did you want with him?” 

“Well,” said the wife, “we bought the old Gokey place down the road, and somebody told us Olin Warren might be willing to do some repairing for us.”

The man rested his scythe for a moment. “I be he,” he said.