"He ain't rid' around with a circus nor
followed the sportin' life, and he's al'ays lived in the country and
minded his own business, but he's good for a whole crateful of your
sportin' blooders--and so long as he licks, it don't make no
difference how he does it."

The personal reference in this little speech was too plain for Hiram
to disregard.

His hard eyes narrowed, and hatred of this insolent countryman blazed
there. The countryman glared back with just as fierce bitterness.

"Mebbe you've got money to back your opinion of Widder Pike's hen
there?" suggested the showman. "Money's the only thing that seems
to interest you, and you don't seem to care how you make it."

Reeves glanced from the maimed P.T., gasping on Hiram's arm, to the
victorious champion who had defeated this redoubtable bird so easily.
His Yankee shrewdness told him that the showman had undoubtedly
produced his best for this conflict; his Yankee cupidity hinted that
by taking advantage of Hiram's present flustered state of mind he
might turn a dollar. He glanced from Hiram to Cap'n Sproul, standing
at one side, and said with careless superiority:

"Make your talk!"

"I've got five hundred that says I've got the best hen."

"There ain't goin' to be no foolishness about rules and sport, and
hitchin' and hawin', is there? It's jest hen that counts!"

"Jest hen!" Hiram set his teeth hard.

"Five hundred it is," agreed Reeves. "But I need a fortni't to collect
in some that's due me. Farmin' ain't such ready-money as the circus
bus'ness."

"Take your fortni't! And we'll settle place later. And that's all,
'cause it makes me sick to stand anywhere within ten feet of you."

Hiram strode away across the fields, his wounded gladiator on his
arm.

And, as it was near dinner-time, Cap'n Sproul trudged into his own
house, his mien thoughtful and his air subdued.

On his next visit to Hiram, the Cap'n didn't know which was the most
preoccupied--the showman sitting in the barn door at Imogene's feet,
or the battered P.T. propped disconsolately on one leg. Both were
gazing at the ground with far-away stare, and Hiram was not much more
conversational than the rooster.

The next day Hiram drove into the Sproul dooryard and called out the
Cap'n, refusing to get out of his wagon.

"I shall be away a few days--mebbe more, mebbe less. I leave time
and place to you." And he slashed at his horse and drove away.

X

It was certainly a quee