"That's your work," said Hanks, cooling down at Fred's determined tone and manner.
"That is not my work, though you have imposed it upon me since I have been here."
"I'm boss of this here job, and what I tell yer to do is fur yer to 'tend to. Ef yer don't mind me I'll have yer discharged," said Hanks, trying to intimidate our young friend.
"I would like to see you have me discharged for not doing your work," said Fred defiantly. "I have found out all about this business, and just what I am supposed to do."
Hanks saw that he was foiled, that Fred had the advantage of him, and that he had better let the matter drop as easily as possible, or he might find himself in trouble if Fred should take it to Mr. Farrington. It suddenly occurred to him that he was needed up in the other room, and he withdrew hastily. As he turned to go he noted the evident pleasure pictured on Jack Hickey's face at his own discomfiture and Fred's triumph.
"Good, me b'y!" said the jolly Irishman to our young friend. "I told ye not to stand the old spalpane's thricks."
"I don't mean to any longer," replied Fred.
"Ye has a dale of sparit, for sure. I knowed it all the time, but bedad and I thought it wad never start."
"Now it has started I'll keep it up so far as Hanks is concerned," replied our hero, as he took a basket under his arm and started for a supply of flocks.
Hanks managed to avoid him the remainder of the forenoon. No further crash therefore occurred between them during that time. That the scraggy old man was thoroughly angry there was no doubt—angry at Fred's triumph over him, and most angry at poor little Carl for remaining away, and as Hanks believed, for telling what he had forbidden him to disclose to Fred.