k against it because "Hank" was their employer's son. I took
exception to the good-natured "lummox's" behaviour.

One morning he was the last to climb out from over the bench at the
rough, board table....

"Hank ... wait. I want to speak to you a minute."

"Yes, Razorre, what is it?" he asked, waiting....

"Hank, the boys have delegated me to tell you that you must use better
manners than you do, at meals."

"The hell you say! and what are you going to do if I don't?"

"I--why, Hank, I hadn't thought of that ... but, since you bring up the
question, I'm going to try to stop you, if you won't stop yourself."

"--think you can?--think you're strong enough?"

"I said '_try_'!"

"Listen, Razorre," and he came over to me with lazy, good-natured
strength, "I'll pick you up, take you out, and roll you in the snow, if
you don't keep still."

"And I'll try my best to give you a good whipping," replied I, setting
my teeth hard, and glaring at him.

He started at me, grinning. I put the table between us, and began taking
deep breaths to thoroughly oxygenate my blood, so it would help me in my
forthcoming grapple with the big, over-grown giant.

He toppled the table over. We were together. I kept on breathing like a
hard-working bellows, as I wrestled about with him.

He seized me by the right leg and tried to lift me up, carry me out. I
pushed his head back by hooking my fingers under his nose, like a prong.

Then I grabbed him by the seat of the britches and heaved. And they
burst clean up the back like a bean pod....

Unexpectedly Hank flopped on the bench and began to shout with
laughter....

My heavy, artificial breathing, like a bellows, for the sake of
oxygenating more strength into my muscles, had struck him as being so
ludicrous, that he was in high good humour. I joined in the laughter,
struck in the same way.

"I surrender, Razorre, and I'll promise to be decent at the table--you
skinny, crazy, old poet!"

And he rumbled and thundered again with Brobdingnagian mirth.

* * * * *

Back from the lumber camp. Comparatively milder weather, but still the
farmers we passed on the road were startled by my summery attire. But by
this time the lumber-jacks and I were on terms of proven friendship ...
I had told them yarns, and had listened to their yarns, in turn ... the
stories of their lives ... and their joys and troubles....

I was reported to Spalton as having been a fi