"Huh!--A snap!" sneered Sube, as he turned to his brother Sim, and asked: "What'd he give you?" "Sproutin' p'tatoes," answered Sim. "How many you got to do?" "Two bushels." "Nuthin' but a picnic," declared Sube. "I'm the only one that's got a _real_ job!" After breakfast Sube repaired to the barn, where he found the lawn-mower waiting for him. "Ha! There you are, you ol' grass-chewer, you!" he exclaimed malevolently. "Thought you'd catch me off my guard, didn't you?--Well this is the way I treat vill'uns like _you_!" He seized an oil can, and thrusting it between the blades of the lawn-mower as he would have plunged a dagger between the ribs of an enemy, he gave several vicious squirts. "There!" he cried. "Take that!--And that!" He drew back a pace and contemplated his enemy witheringly. "'Nuff?--Oh! Ain't you? Ain't you, now?--Well take that, then!--And that!" He gave another cruel thrust into the very vitals of the defenseless machine, and then withdrew his dripping blade. "You _will_ waylay me just inside the door of this cave, will you!--You will, will you!--I guess you won't do that again--" "Who you talkin' to?" came a voice at the door. Sube jumped back, ready for another antagonist, as Cathead entered. "Oh! It's you, is it?" asked Sube, about equally divided between relief and confusion. "I thought it was--that it might be--that--Why, I was jus' oilin' the machine!" But Cathead did not press the point. He had other things in view. "Say, Sube," he began at once, "If you think thinnin' the beets is such a snap job, what'll you take to do 'em?" Sube turned on his brother with a glare as he replied: "What d'you think I am! Don't you s'pose I got enough to do for one day?" "Oh, you got enough to do without pay; but I was goin' to pay you," replied Cathead evenly. "What do you want to do to-day?" demanded Sube. "Nuthin' much. Do you want the job, or don't you?" "I don't know yet. What'll you gimme?" "I'll give you a dime. And it's an awful easy way to earn a dime, too," asserted Cathead suavely. "I don't care so much about the money," vapored Sube; "but I'm goin' to be awful tired when I get through cuttin' the lawn." "Well, if you don't care about the money, what do you care about?" demanded Cathead. And suddenly Sube remembered all the valuable property he had parted with in order to get a much-needed haircut, and that Cathead had steadfastly refused to be treated like an "uncle," but had insisted that he had bought everything outright. "Let's see," muttered Sube; "you still got my automatic?" This high-sounding weapon was an antique revolver with the cylinder missing, but it was the apple of his eye. "Why, yes," agreed Cathead. "I'll give you that." "And my billiard ball?" added Sube.