“What’s the trouble?” I asked. “Dunno of any trouble,” he answered as though surprised by my question. “I’ve been down to the house over an hour waiting for you,” I said. “What for?” he asked. “Aren’t you going to work any more?” “Don’t expect a man to work in the rain, do you?” he answered. “I guess it’s too much to expect work of you in any sort of weather,” I said. I paid him for his four days and left him growling uncomplimentary remarks about me to his wife. I received the same reply from Jim. I paid him off too and went on in search of young Chase. I thought the boy and I together might be able to clear up some of the odd jobs. He wasn’t at home. His mother thought he might be at the grocery store. I went down there and found him lolling against the counter. “You aren’t afraid of rain too, are you?” I demanded. There were three other men there and he looked ashamed. “It’s my rheumatiz,” he answered, feeling of his leg. “It’s botherin’ me a powerful lot to-day.” “Then you refuse to come to work?” “I’d like to accommodate ye,” he answered. “But honest--” “I don’t want you to accommodate me,” I said. “I want you to work for me.” He straightened up a little at this and answered back. “I won’t work in the rain for no man.” He glanced toward the others and I saw them nod their approval. This stand was more than I had expected of him. It showed that he had some spirit of a certain kind after all. “All right,” I said. “Here’s your money.” When I was leaving, he roused himself once more. “I reckon what you want mister ain’t a man--it’s a Dago.” “You’re partly right,” I said; “I reckon what I want is a Dago.” CHAPTER II MY NEIGHBORS This was my first introduction to the old-stock farmer of whom I was to learn much more later on. Of course in a real sense these men were not farmers, and yet they were farmers or nothing. They had been born on a farm, had spent their lives there, and still depended upon the land for whatever means of livelihood they had. They were willing to work out as a matter of accommodation or to pick up an extra dollar or so, but they certainly did not class themselves as laborers. I could agree with them in that, but neither to my mind were they real farmers; not as I conceived farmers to be from what my father had told me and from what I read in the magazines.