"I suppose I'll have to put up with you," Stubbles growled. "Get to work at once, and no fooling, mind."
Douglas found the teamster a pleasant working companion, who loaded the hay on the wagon.
"How is Si feelin' now?" he enquired.
"Oh, I guess he's all right. He had a nasty fall and might have been killed."
"H'm, that old cuss won't die that way. It would be too easy a death. If he doesn't bust when he gits in one of them mad fits of his, he'll be skinned alive by somebody one of these days. I'd like to be around an' hear him squeal. It would make up fer a great deal of impudence I've stood, to say nuthin' of his confounded pride, as well as the whole darn family. But I kin put up with Si better than I kin with Ben; he's the limit."
"What's the matter with him?"
"Well, Si knows a little about farmin', but Ben knows no more about it than I do about harnessin' up a baby with pins, strings, ribbons, an' all its other gear. Ben thinks he knows, an' that's where he makes a fool of himself. He gives orders which no one in his right mind would think of obeyin', an' then he gits as mad as blazes when ye don't do as he says."
"Is Ben the only son?" Douglas asked.
"Thank goodness, yes. One is bad enough, dear knows, but if there were more, ugh!"
"What does Ben do?"