"you see, we a'n't none of your saft sort in these diggings. It takes a
_man_ to boss this deestrick. Howsumdever, ef you think you kin trust
your hide in Flat Crick school-house I ha'n't got no 'bjection. But ef
you git licked, don't come on us. Flat Crick don't pay no 'nsurance, you
bet! Any other trustees? Wal, yes. But as I pay the most taxes, t'others
jist let me run the thing. You can begin right off a Monday. They a'n't
been no other applications. You see, it takes grit to apply for this
school. The last master had a black eye for a month. But, as I wuz
sayin', you can jist roll up and wade in. I 'low you've got spunk,
maybe, and that goes for a heap sight more'n sinnoo with boys. Walk in,
and stay over Sunday with me. You'll hev' to board roun', and I guess
you better begin here."

Ralph did not go in, but sat out on the wheelbarrow, watching the old
man shave shingles, while the boys split the blocks and chopped wood.
Bull smelled of the new-comer again in an ugly way, and got a good kick
from the older son for his pains. But out of one of his red eyes the dog
warned the young school-master that _he_ should yet suffer for all kicks
received on his account.

"Ef Bull once takes a holt, heaven and yarth can't make him let go,"
said the older son to Ralph, by way of comfort.

It was well for Ralph that he began to "board roun'" by stopping at Mr.
Means's. Ralph felt that Flat Creek was what he needed. He had lived a
bookish life; but here was his lesson in the art of managing people, for
he who can manage the untamed and strapping youths of a winter school in
Hoopole County has gone far toward learning one of the hardest of
lessons. And in Ralph's time, things were worse than they are now. The
older son of Mr. Means was called Bud Means. What his real name was,