Mr. Hopkins was quite cheerful by this time, for he had thought out the situation and his “fighting blood was up,” as he expressed it.

He walked away whistling softly to himself and decided that he would go over to the livery stable, get a horse and buggy, drive out into the country, and spend the day talking with the farmers.

But when he turned the corner into the side street where the livery was located he was astonished to find a row of horses and wagons lining each side of the street, and in each vehicle two men in white jumpers and overalls.  The men were in charge of huge cans of paints, assorted brushes, ladders, scaffolds and other paraphernalia.

There must have been twenty vehicles, altogether, and some of the rigs were already starting out and driving briskly away in different directions.

Mr. Hopkins was puzzled.  He approached one of the white-overalled men who was loading cans of paint into a wagon and inquired: 

“Who are you fellows?”

“Sign painters,” answered the man, with an amused look.

“Who do you work for?”

“The Carson Advertising Sign Company of Cleveland.”

“Oh, I see,” replied Hopkins.  “Got a big job in this neighborhood?”

“Pretty big, sir.”

“Who’s your foreman?”

“Smith.  He’s in the livery office.”

Then the man climbed into his wagon and drove away, and Hopkins turned into the livery office.  A thin-faced man with sharp eyes was Talking with the proprietor.

“Is this Mr. Smith?” asked Hopkins.

“Yes.”

“Of the Carson Advertising Sign Company?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I’ve got a big job for you.  My name’s Hopkins.  I want a hundred big signs painted mighty quick.”

“Sorry, sir; we’ve got all we can handle here for two or three weeks.”

“It’s got to be done quick or not at all.  Can’t you send for more men?”

“We’ve got thirty-eight on this job, and can’t get any more for love or money.  Had to send to Chicago for some of these.”

“Rush job?”

“Yes, sir.  You’ll have to excuse me.  I’ve got to get started.  This is only our second day and we’re pretty busy.”

“Wait a minute,” called the bewildered Hopkins, following Smith to his buggy.  “What concern is your firm doing all this painting for?”

“A man named Merrick.”

Then the foreman drove away, and Mr. Hopkins was left greatly puzzled.

“Merrick—­Merrick!” he repeated.  “I don’t remember any big advertiser by that name.  It must be some new concern.  Anyhow, it all helps in my fight against Forbes.”

He again returned to the livery office and asked for a rig.

“Everything out, Mr. Hopkins.  I’ve hired everything to be had in town for this sign-painting gang.”

But Mr. Hopkins was not to be balked.  As long as these sign-painters were doing missionary work for his cause among the farmers, he decided to drive over to Fairview and see the party leaders in that important town.  So he went back to Dr. Squiers’s house and borrowed the Doctor’s horse and buggy.