cial supremacy, his league with Hiram, after an initial combat
to try spurs, was instant and cordial as soon as he had understood
a few things about the showman's character and purpose.

"Birds of a feather!" gritted Reeves, in his confidences with his
intimates. "An' old turkle-back of a sea-capt'in runnin' things in
this town 'fore he's been here two years, jest 'cause he's got cheek
enough and thutty thousand dollars--and now comes that old gas-bag
with a plug hat on it, braggin' of his own thutty thousand dollars,
and they hitch up! Gawd help Smyrna, that's all I say!"

And yet, had all the spiteful eyes in Smyrna peered around the corner
of the barn on that serene June forenoon, they must have softened
just a bit at sight of the placid peace of it all.

The big doors were rolled back, and "Imogene," the ancient elephant
whose fond attachment to Hiram had preserved her from the
auction-block, bent her wrinkled front to the soothing sunshine and
"weaved" contentedly on her slouchy legs. She was watching her master
with the thorough appreciation of one who has understood and loved
the "sportin' life."

Hiram was in shirt-sleeves and bareheaded, his stringy hair combed
over his bald spot. His long-tailed coat and plug hat hung from a
wooden peg on the side of the barn. In front of him was a loose square
of burlap, pegged to the ground at one edge, its opposite edge nailed
to the barn, and sloping at an angle of forty-five degrees.

As Cap'n Sproul rounded the corner Hiram had just tossed a rooster
in the air over the burlap. The bird came down flapping its wings;
its legs stuck out stiffly. When it struck the rude net it bounded
high, and came down again, and continued its grotesque hornpipe until
it finally lost its spring.

"I'm only givin' P.T. Barnum his leg-exercise," said Hiram,
recovering the rooster and sticking him under one arm while he shook
hands with his caller. "I don't expect to ever match him again in
this God-forsaken country, but there's some comfort in keepin' him
in trainin'. Pinch them thighs, Cap'n! Ain't they the wickin'?"

"I sh'd hate to try to eat 'em," said the Cap'n, gingerly poking his
stubby finger against the rooster's leg.

"Eat 'em!" snapped the showman, raking the horns of his long mustache
irritably away from his mouth. "You talk like the rest of these
farmers round here that never heard of a hen bein' good for anything
except to lay eggs and be et for a Thanksgivin' dinner."