"Yo' have the right spirit, boy," the old man said, "an' I like to see it, but you're huntin' trouble sure's you're born. S'posin' yo' asked the questions of some ol' sorehead that wouldn' answer?"
"He'd have to answer," replied Hamilton stoutly, "there's a law to make him."
"I don't believe that law's used much," hazarded the old man.
"It isn't," Hamilton found himself forced to admit. "I believe there were not very many arrests all over the country last census. But the law's there, just the same."
"It wouldn' be a law on the Ridge," the mountaineer said, "an' I don' believe it would do yo' any good anywhar else. On the mount'ns, I know, courtesy is a whole lot bigger word than constitution. Up hyeh, we follow the law when we're made to, follow an idee backed up by a rifle-barrel because we have to, but there's not many men hyeh that won' do anythin' yo' ask if yo' jes' ask the right way."
"But there are always some that give trouble," Hamilton protested, trying to defend his position.
The old Kentuckian slowly shook his head from side to side.
"If yo' don' win out by courtesy," he said, "it's jes' because yo' haven' been courteous enough, because yo' haven' taken yo' man jes' right. Thar isn't any such thing as bein' too gracious. An' anyway, a census-taker with any other idee up hyeh would be runnin' chances right along."
"You mean they would shoot him up?" asked Hamilton.
"I think if he threatened some folks up hyeh an' in the gullies thar might be trouble."