Eugene started in by mowin’ away the whiskers, an’ it was a long an’ painful job; ’cause it was almost impossible to tell where they left off an’ ol’ man Dort began, an’ then they was so cluttered up with grit an’ dead hair and kindry deb-ris that his scissors would choke up an’ pull, an’ then ol’ man Dort would bob up his head an’ yell out a bunch o’ profanity, and Eugene would stand back an’ say that he was a barber, not a clearer of new ground, an’ that the job ought to be done with a scythe and hoe, not with scissors an’ razor. Eugene wasn’t covetous of ol’ man Dort’s trade an’ didn’t care whether he insulted him or not. The most fun came, though, after Eugene had got down to where he could tell the outline of ol’ man Dort’s face. First he soaked it with lather, combin’ it in with a comb, an’ puttin’ hot towels on it to draw out the alkalie grit an’ give his razors some show. One of ol’ man Dort’s manias was, that a man ought to pay his debts, whether it killed him or not; so as soon as Eugene had him steamin’ under the towels we begun to talk about a man’s first duty bein’ toward his kin, an’ that if he couldn’t pay his debts without bother, he ought to let the debts go an’ show his relatives a good time while they was still on earth an’ able to enjoy themselves. Ol’ man Dort couldn’t stand it, an’ tried to answer back from under the towels; but got his mouth full o’ suds, an’ choked on the corner of a towel until Eugene said that if he couldn’t sit still an’ behave himself he could go out to some alfalfa farmer to get his tonsoral work completed. It wasn’t the ol’ man’s fault—he simply couldn’t help it. Touch him up on a ticklish subject, an’ he just had to come back at ya, same as a rattler. Finally, however, Eugene had the stubble wore down an’ softened until he decided that he stood a chance again’ it, an’ then he lathered an’ rubbed, an’ lathered an’ rubbed, until nothin’ stuck out below ol’ man Dort’s eyes except the peak of his nose; an’ then us boys pulled out our trump card an’ played it strong. We began to talk about red squirrels. Now, we didn’t know anything professional about squirrels, except what ol’ man Dort had told us; but we slewed his talk around this way an’ that as if it was our own private opinions; an’ the ol’ man began to groan audible. He gritted his teeth, though, an’ bore up under it like a hero, until Eugene begin to chip in with what he knew about squirrels. Eugene was never content to just speak of a thing in a general way—his main method of convincin’ us was to allus fall back on his own personal experience; so this time he began to tell of squirrels what he had been full acquainted with. He called ’em by name an’ told how they would run to meet him an’ climb up on his shoulders an’ chatter for nuts, an’ so on; until the ol’ man’s ears turned red with the strain he was under. And then, we got to discussin’ the size o’ squirrels.