“Go ’long,” said Ethan, incredulously. “Ye don’t really mean it, do ye?”
“Yes, I do mean it,” replied Bob. “It’s my first experience; and my only hope is that it won’t be my last.”
“If you don’t stop before long it’ll be your last, I’m sure,” interrupted Ben, himself as deeply engrossed in the occupation as was Bob.
“Well,” said Ethan, “I wouldn’t ‘a’ believed that ye never eat any fried salt pork afore. Why, everybody eats it.”
“I don’t wonder,” murmured Bob, as he dexterously flung a corn-cob, which had now served its full duty, at a tree in the distance.
“I’m afraid Ethan doesn’t think we know much,” said Jock. “He’s been telling us this morning about the greenness of city people when they’re in the country. I’m inclined to think he’s right, too.”
“Well, they be green,” protested Ethan, sturdily. “I had a young fellow from Bosting up here last year, what I rowed for, an’ if ye believe me, he didn’t actually know how many teeth a cow had on her upper jaw. No, sir, he didn’t for a fact; an’ he was in college, too. Mebbe ye don’t believe me, but it’s true as yer life, what I’m tellin’ ye.”
There was a twinkle in Ethan’s eyes as he spoke, which was not lost upon our boys, who were looking somewhat foolishly at one another. Perhaps they were fearful that the question would be brought home to them.
Their anxiety was relieved when Jock spoke up quickly, and said, “Tell us, Ethan. How many teeth does a cow have on her upper jaw? I don’t know; I don’t, for a fact.”
“Thank you! You have expressed my feelings exactly,” said Bert, partly rising from his seat, and bowing in mock honor at Jock.