our present talk I don't
reckon you'd know how to run anything any different!" This taunt as
to his life-work in the show business and his capability stirred all
of Hiram's venom.

"I've come here to tell ye," he raged, "that the citizens of this
town to a man want ye to resign as first selectman, and let some one
in that don't wear brustles and stand with both feet in the trough."

"That's just the reason I won't resign--because they want me to,"
returned the Cap'n with calm decisiveness. "They got behind me when
I wasn't lookin', and picked me up and rammed me into this office,
and I've been wantin' to get out ever since. But I'll be cussed if
I'll get out, now that they're tryin' to drive me out. I'm interested
enough now to stay."

"Say, did you ever try to drive a hog?" demanded the irate old
circus-man.

"Yes," said the Cap'n, imperturbably, "I'm tryin' it now--tryin' to
drive a whole litter of 'em away from the trough where they want to
eat up at one meal what it's taken me a whole year to scrape together."

Persiflage of this sort did not appear to be accomplishing anything.
Hiram relieved his feelings by a smacking, round oath and stamped
out of the town-house.

As they had done once before in the annals of his office, the other
two selectmen made a party with Sproul's opposers. They signed a call
for a special town-meeting. It was held, and an uproarious
_viva-voce_ vote settled the fate of the surplus. In the rush of
popular excitement the voters did not stop to reflect on the legal
aspects of the question. Law would not have sanctioned such a
disposal of town money, even with such an overwhelming majority
behind the movement. But Cap'n Sproul still held to his ancient and
ingrained fear of lawyers. He remained away from the meeting and let
matters take their course.

Hiram, still captain of the revolutionists, felt his heart grow
softer in victory. Furthermore, Cap'n Sproul, left outside the pale,
might conquer dislike of law and invoke an injunction.

The next morning, bright and early, he trudged over to the first
selectman's house and bearded the sullen autocrat in his
sitting-room. He felt that the peace of the Cap'n's home was better
suited to be the setting of overtures of friendship than the angular
interior of the town office.

"Cap," he said, appealingly, "they've gone and done it, and all the
sentiment of the town is one way in the matter. What's the use of
buckin' your own people as y