“Thank you, professor,” said the Texan. “You’re some complimentary this morning.”
“But not flattering. The truth is never flattery if it is spoken in the right spirit. I am proud to pay this tribute to your fine qualities. I shall be proud to do so before the entire school when we return to Fardale.”
“Oh, Jerusalem! don’t do that, professor!” gasped Buckhart, appalled. “I wouldn’t have you for a barrel of money!”
“Eh? Wouldn’t? Why not?”
“Why, I’d certain take to the tall timber on the jump if you did it. I’d hunt a hole and stay there till the fellows forgot it. They would guy me to death.”
“Would they?” cried Zenas, surprised and displeased. “Now, don’t you think anything of the sort! I’d like to know of them trying it.”
“But you wouldn’t know, you see.”
“You might tell me. It would be your duty to tell me.”
“People do not always do their duty in this world.”
The old pedagogue was surprised and puzzled. He had not fancied Buckhart a modest boy, but now, of a sudden, he realized that the Texan was genuinely modest in a way.