Butler Ellis Parker
Red Head and Whistle Breeches

Red Head waited.

“Come on,” he said at length. “I’ll let you help me drive the cow home tonight.”

Still Willie hesitated, although he was almost willing to risk a licking to be allowed to slap the sleek legs of Mrs. Murphy’s cow with a limber willow switch.

“Come on,” said Red Head. “I’ll let you smoke my pipe.”

“Won’t you lick me?” asked Willie doubtfully.

“Naw, I won’t lick you. What would I want to lick you for?” Willie followed Red Head hesitatingly, with an eye to a safe retreat, if necessary.

One of the boys came forward from the group by the gate.

“Hi, here comes Whistle Breeches!” he shouted gleefully.

“Whistle – Bree-ches – Whistle – Bree-ches – Whistle – Bree-ches – ”

Red Head turned and clenched his fists, his blue eyes blazing; “Shut up, Bob Palmer!” he cried fiercely. “Don’t you call him that. That ain’t no name to call a feller. You jist wisht you had breeches like ‘em!”

Bob stopped suddenly. He looked at Red Head in astonishment. Then he turned and ran to the boys by the gate. They listened to what he said, and then began a loud singsong chant: “Whistle – Bree-ches – Whistle – Bree-ches – Whistle – Bree-ches!”

Red Head bounded forward, his eyes glowing with anger. He toppled two boys over, and rained his blows right and left.

“Don’t youse call him that!” he cried.

It was a surprise. The boys drew back and stood ready to scatter at the next onslaught. Red Head waited, puffing, With clenched fists.

“The next feller that calls him that, I’ll break his face!” he threatened. “An’ I ain’t foolin’, neither.”

They saw that he was not, and they waited respectfully as Red Head and Willie walked away.

Willie went with Red Head to drive the cow home, and Red Head taught him how to double up his fist for battle according to the traditions of the school, with the knuckle of the second finger protruded.

“You jist do that,” he explained, “an’ you can hurt ‘em worse. An’ if they fight back, kick ‘em in the legs. That’s how I do. Why, you’re as big as I am, an’ I bet you’re jist as strong. You jist stand up to ‘em. There ain’t nothin’ in fightin’ when you know how. If you jist stand up to ‘em, they ‘most always back down. You begin on Tom Ament. He’s a bigger baby’n you are. Anybody kin lick him I kin lick him with my little finger. An’ then you tackle Shorty. He’s a baby, too. You’re jist afraid.”

It was Red Head who egged Willie on to strike Tom Ament the next day, and Red Head coached him until Tom took to his heels, defeated. Then Red Head made him lick Shorty, and with the lust of victory in his veins Willie worked his way upward, and soon the other mothers began telling Willie’s mother that he was a bad boy, always fighting, and Mrs. Gary wept over him. But no one called him Whistle Breeches, and he learned that he was as much of a man as any of them, and more of a man than most.

Then came a battle royal, when Red Head and Willie stood face to face and pounded each other for a good half hour for supremacy, and Willie went down with a bleeding nose and an eye that was dark for days.

But Red Head had taught him self confidence, and self confidence made him the Governor of a great State.