“I believe not,” said Keyser; “I had rods on the barn at the time of the—­”

“I know,” exclaimed the agent—­“I know you had; and very likely that’s the reason you were struck.  Nothin’s more likely to attract lightnin’ than worthless rods.”

“How do you know they were worthless?”

“Why, I was drivin’ by yer in the spring, and I seen them rods, and I says to myself, ’That barn’ll be struck some time, but there’s no use in tryin’ to convince Mr. Keyser;’ so I didn’t call.  I knowed it, because they had iron tips.  A rod with iron tips is no better’n a clothes-prop to ward off lightnin’.”

“The man who sold them to me said they had platinum tips,” remarked Keyser.

“Ah! this is a wicked world, Mr. Keyser.  You can’t be too cautious.  Some of these yer agents lie like a gas-meter.  It’s awful, sir.  They are wholly untrustworthy.  Them rods was the most ridicklus sham I ever see—­a regular gouge.  They wa’n’t worth the labor it took to put ’em up.  They wa’n’t, now.  That’s the honest truth.”

“What kind do you offer?”

“Well, sir, I’ve got the only genuine lightnin’-rod that’s made.  It’s constructed on scientific principles.  Professor Henry says it’s sure to run off the electric fluid every time—­twisted charcoal iron, glass insulators, eight points on each rod, warranted solid platinum.  We give a written guarantee with each rod.  Never had a house struck since we began to offer this rod to the public.  Positive fact.  The lightnin’ll play all around a house with one of ’em and never touch it.  A thunder-storm that’d tear the bowels out of the American continent would leave your house as safe as a polar bear in the middle of an iceberg.  Shall I run you one up?”

“I don’t know,” said Keyser, musingly.

“I’ll put you up one cheap, and then you’ll have somethin’ reliable—­somethin’ there’s no discount on.”

“You say the old rod was a fraud?”

“The deadliest fraud you ever heard of.  It hadn’t an ounce of platinum within a mile of it.  The man that sold it ought to be prosecuted, and the fellow that put it up without insulators should be shot.  It’s too bad the farmers should be gouged in this sort of way.”

“And Bolt & Burnam’s rod is not a fraud?”

“A fraud?  Why, really, my dear sir, just cast your eye over Professor Henry’s letter and these certificates, and remember that we give a written guarantee—­a positive protection, of course.”

“Just cast your eye over that,” said Keyser, handing him a piece of paper.

“Well, upon my word!  This is indeed somewhat—­that is to say it is, as it were—­it looks—­it looks a little like one of our own certificates.”

“Just so,” said Keyser.  “That old rod was one of Bolt & Burnam’s.  You sold it to my son-in-law; you gave this certificate; you swore the points were platinum, and your man put it up.”

“Then I suppose we can’t trade?”