made by these ominous remarks was emphasized by the glances which he
received from Jack Means's two sons. The older one eyed him from the top
of his brawny shoulders with that amiable look which a big dog turns on
a little one before shaking him. Ralph Hartsook had never thought of
being measured by the standard of muscle. This notion of beating
education into young savages in spite of themselves dashed his ardor.

He had walked right to where Jack Means was at work shaving shingles in
his own front yard. While Mr. Means was making the speech which we have
set down above, and punctuating it with expectorations, a large brindle
bulldog had been sniffing at Ralph's heels, and a girl in a new
linsey-woolsey dress, standing by the door, had nearly giggled her head
off at the delightful prospect of seeing a new school-teacher eaten up
by the ferocious brute.

The disheartening words of the old man, the immense muscles of the young
man who was to be his rebellious pupil, the jaws of the ugly bulldog,
and the heartless giggle of the girl, gave Ralph a delightful sense of
having precipitated himself into a den of wild beasts. Faint with
weariness and discouragement, and shivering with fear, he sat down on a
wheelbarrow.

"You, Bull!" said the old man to the dog, which was showing more and
more a disposition to make a meal of the incipient pedagogue, "you,
Bull! git aout[2], you pup!" The dog walked sullenly off, but not until
he had given Ralph a look full of promise of what he meant to do when he
got a good chance. Ralph wished himself back in the village of
Lewisburg, whence he had come.

"You see," continued Mr. Means, spitting in a meditative sort of a way,