“Huh!”
Lon chuckled softly. “Te he! Say! Wonder if I ever told you about old Brodman.”
There was a little pause. Then Sam said, “Guess not.” He spoke half curiously, half unwillingly.
“Well, old Brodman was a pretty decent citizen—all right in his way. But he was jest as human as you, Sam. So it happened once he got to figgerin’ that the town was down on him and treatin’ him mean. ‘I’ll get even with ’em,’ he says to himself; ‘I’ll have nothin’ to do with ’em.’ So off he goes, and flocks all by himself for a good, long spell. At last, though, it gets sorter tiresome, and back he trots, and runs smack into one of his old neighbors. ‘Hello!’ says the neighbor, casual like. ‘How do you do?’ says old Brodman, all dignified. The neighbor yawns and looks at the sky. ‘Kinder threatenin’ rain, ain’t it?’ says he. Old Brodman glares at him. ‘Look here!’ says he, ‘don’t you and all the rest of the town know I’ve been away? Hain’t ye missed me?’ ‘Wal, I wouldn’t exactly call it “missed,”’ says the neighbor. ‘You see, Brodman, ’most everybody thought you was in jail.’”
Sam sprang to his feet. He crossed the room to a window, through which he stared industriously.
“If you’d like to have the moral o’ that story,” Lon went on, “it’s that one human can’t buck all the rest. The odds are too big. What’s a ton to him ain’t a featherweight to the world. And applyin’ that moral to a case nearer home, I’d say you’d better make up your mind to go back to your crowd, and [grin and bear it]. And the more you grin, the less you’ll have to bear.”
“I won’t do it.”
“Umph! Safety First! Ain’t that your motto?”