Hiram ran to him and picked him up from where he had fallen.  His coat and vest were off, and his suspenders trailed behind him.  One sniff at his frowsled hair told Hiram the story.  The little man’s topknot was soppy with whiskey; his face was running with it; his eyes were full of it.  And the next moment the doubtful aroma had spread to the nostrils of all.  And the one-eyed hostler and liquor depository, standing on the outskirts of the throng that he had solicitously followed in, slapped palm against thigh and cried:  “By Peter, that’s the gallon I poured in the water-pitcher and forgot where I left it!”

“Didn’t I tell you and command you and order you to throw away all the liquor round this place, you one-eyed sandpipe?” demanded Hiram, furiously.

“There was a lot of hidin’ done in a hurry when they come down on Ferd,” pleaded the hostler, “and I forgot where I hid that gallon!”

The little man had his smarting eyes open.  “Whiskey?” he mumbled, dragging his hand over his hair and sniffing at his fingers.

“You heard what that renegade owned up to,” shouted Hiram, facing the women.  “I gave him his orders.  I give him his orders now.  You jest appoint your delegation, wimmen!  Don’t you hold me to blame for rum bein’ here.  You foller that man!  And if he don’t show you where every drop is hid and give it into your hands to spill, I’ll—­I’ll—­” He paused for a threat, cast his eyes about him, and tore down the alligator from the ceiling, seized it by the stiff tail and poised it like a cudgel.  “I’ll meller him within an inch of his life.”

“That sounds fair and reasonable, ladies,” said the clergyman, “though, of course, we don’t want any violence.”

“I’m always fair and reasonable,” protested Hiram, “when folks come at me in a fair and reasonable way.  You talk to them wimmen, elder, about bein’ fair and reasonable themselves, and then lead ’em back here, and you’ll find me ready to pull with ’em for the good of this place, without tryin’ to run cross-legged or turn a yoke or twist the hames.”

When the reformers had departed on the heels of the cowed hostler, Hiram surveyed with interest the little man who was left alone with them.

“I—­I—­reckon I’ve got a little business to talk over with you,” faltered the old showman, surveying him ruefully.  The little man took a parting sniff at his finger-tips.

“You think, do you, that you’ve got over being driven up and that now you can stop flying and perch a few minutes?” inquired the little man with biting irony.

“I’ll ’tend to your case now jest as close as I can,” returned Hiram, meekly.

“Well,” proceeded the little man, after boring Hiram and then the Cap’n for a time with steely eyes, “I happened to run across one Ferdinand Parrott on the train, and he seemed to have what I’ve been looking for, a property that I can convert into a sanitarium.  My name is Professor Diamond, and I am the inventor of the Telauto—­”