“Then s’pose you resign and let me take the job and run it the way it ought to be run?”

“How would that be—­a circus every week-day and a sacred concert Sundays?  Judging from your past life and your present talk I don’t reckon you’d know how to run anything any different!” This taunt as to his life-work in the show business and his capability stirred all of Hiram’s venom.

“I’ve come here to tell ye,” he raged, “that the citizens of this town to a man want ye to resign as first selectman, and let some one in that don’t wear brustles and stand with both feet in the trough.”

“That’s just the reason I won’t resign—­because they want me to,” returned the Cap’n with calm decisiveness.  “They got behind me when I wasn’t lookin’, and picked me up and rammed me into this office, and I’ve been wantin’ to get out ever since.  But I’ll be cussed if I’ll get out, now that they’re tryin’ to drive me out.  I’m interested enough now to stay.”

“Say, did you ever try to drive a hog?” demanded the irate old circus-man.

“Yes,” said the Cap’n, imperturbably, “I’m tryin’ it now—­tryin’ to drive a whole litter of ’em away from the trough where they want to eat up at one meal what it’s taken me a whole year to scrape together.”

Persiflage of this sort did not appear to be accomplishing anything.  Hiram relieved his feelings by a smacking, round oath and stamped out of the town-house.

As they had done once before in the annals of his office, the other two selectmen made a party with Sproul’s opposers.  They signed a call for a special town-meeting.  It was held, and an uproarious viva-voce vote settled the fate of the surplus.  In the rush of popular excitement the voters did not stop to reflect on the legal aspects of the question.  Law would not have sanctioned such a disposal of town money, even with such an overwhelming majority behind the movement.  But Cap’n Sproul still held to his ancient and ingrained fear of lawyers.  He remained away from the meeting and let matters take their course.

Hiram, still captain of the revolutionists, felt his heart grow softer in victory.  Furthermore, Cap’n Sproul, left outside the pale, might conquer dislike of law and invoke an injunction.

The next morning, bright and early, he trudged over to the first selectman’s house and bearded the sullen autocrat in his sitting-room.  He felt that the peace of the Cap’n’s home was better suited to be the setting of overtures of friendship than the angular interior of the town office.

“Cap,” he said, appealingly, “they’ve gone and done it, and all the sentiment of the town is one way in the matter.  What’s the use of buckin’ your own people as you are doin’?  Get onto the band-wagon along with the rest of us.  It’s goin’ to be a good thing for the town.  It will bring a lot of spenders in here that day.  They’ll leave money here.  It will be a good time all ’round.  It will give the town a good name.  Now, that money is goin’ to be spent!  I’ve made you chairman of the whole general committee—­as first selectman.  You’ll have the principal say as to how the money is goin’ to be spent.  As long’s it’s goin’ to be spent that ought to be some satisfaction to you.”