Hogan’s reputation throughout the central and western portions of New York had become so well established by this time, that the rumor was common that he could whip any man in Rochester, Buffalo or Syracuse. Certain it is that there appeared to be nobody in those cities who seemed anxious to meet Ben in the P. R.
Cast-Iron Collins, as he was called, came to the front for a short time, and a fight was arranged between him and Hogan. But while Ben was in training, Collins backed out, thus showing that the sort of cast-iron of which he was made was not of a very reliable nature.
After a sojourn of some time in Buffalo, Ben returned to Rochester. He struck the latter city with the idea of opening a place—and he had no way of doing it except with a crowbar. He did not resort to this method, however, preferring to use his wits instead.
Hiring a vacant store, he went to work to fix it up as a gymnasium. It may be remarked, incidentally, that whenever Ben has been hopelessly “broke,” he has invariably resorted to the gymnasium as a means of raising the needful. This Rochester venture did not cost him very much at the outset. He got everything on credit; stocked the bar by credit and paid people—on credit. Nobody can say that this was not a perfectly credit-able proceeding on Ben’s part.
The project proved a big success, and business increased so rapidly that Ben finally concluded to take in a partner. Some laughable incidents occurred during this period in Rochester.
Ben drove a handsome team of horses, which he hired for the season, and which gave him the appearance of a man of wealth. While out driving he frequently met the farmers coming into the city with loads of wood. Purely for the deviltry of the thing, Ben stopped one of these rustics one day, told him that he would buy his wood, and directed him to leave it at a given address. The farmer, thinking that he had made a good bargain, did as Ben told him, taking the latter’s word that he would “settle with him in a day or two.”
As soon as the wood had been delivered, Ben had it immediately sawed and split, so that by the time the farmer called around for his money, it was all piled away. The man was naturally mad, but he was informed that he might take his wood back if he wanted it, only he must first pay for the sawing and splitting. The price charged for this work was fixed at the modest sum of twenty dollars—which was twice as much as the wood had originally cost.
Believing that he had been swindled, the farmer had Ben arrested, but, as our hero was able to show that he was not worth a dollar, and that he owed more people than he could remember, there was little satisfaction to be got out of the law. Hogan sent the wood to a needy family, and enjoyed the little joke immensely.
If he did this thing once, he did it a dozen times, always sending what he got from the prosperous farmers to the poor of the city. When he happened to meet one of his victims on the road, he would draw up most politely, and say:
“Ah, that little bill of yours! I had forgotten all about it. Call around at my place when I am in!”