urely, 'tis a joke."

"I ain't feelin' in no very great humorous state of mind these days,"
returned the Cap'n with vigor. "If you see any joke in what I'm sayin'
you'd better not laugh. I tell ye, I never heard of 'em! Now you answer
my question."

"Why, they are great poets, authors, orators--the great minds of the
country. They--"

"Well, they ain't all mind, be they? They're hearty eaters, ain't
they? They'll want three square meals when they get here, won't they?
What I want to know now is, how many thousands of them blasted
grasshoppers you've gone to work and managed to tole in here to be
fed? I'm just wakin' up to the resks we're runnin', and it makes me
sweat cold water." He glanced apprehensively at the papers bearing
his computations.

"All the replies I have received so far have been regrets," murmured
Mr. Tate, sorrowfully. "I took the greatest names first. I was
ambitious for our dear town, Captain. I went directly to the highest
founts. Perhaps I looked too high. They have all sent regrets. I have
to confess that I have not yet secured the orator of the day nor any
of the other speakers. But I was ambitious to get the best."

"Well, that's the first good news I've heard since we started on this
lunatic fandango," said the Cap'n, with soulful thanksgiving. "Do
you think there's any in this last mess that 'll be li'ble to come
if they're asked?"

"I have been gradually working down the scale of greatness, but I'm
afraid I have still aimed too high," confessed Mr. Tate. "Yet the
effort is not lost by any means." His eyes kindled. "All my life,
Captain Sproul, I have been eager for the autographs of great
men--that I might gaze upon the spot of paper where their mighty hands
have rested to write. I have succeeded beyond my fondest dreams. I
have a collection of autograph letters that make my heart swell with
pride."

"So that's how you've been spendin' the money of this town--writin'
to folks that you knew wouldn't come, so as to get their autographs?"

He touched the point better than he realized. Poet Tate's face grew
paler. After his first batch of letters had brought those returns
from the regretful great he had been recklessly scattering
invitations from the Atlantic to the Pacific--appealing invitations
done in his best style, and sanctioned by the aegis of a committee
headed by "Captain Sproul, Chairman." Such unbroken array of
declinations heartened him in his quest, and he was reaping his