A general murmur of approval followed this outburst.
"I hear," said Sam, anxious to get some definite information as to the warriors of the town, "I hear that several Slowburghers are going to the war."
"Yes," said Tucker, while Jackson after his effort settled down into a semi-comatose state, "six of our boys are a-going. There's Davy Black, he drives the fastest horse in these parts, and Tom Slade. Where is Tom? He's generally here. They'll miss him here at the hotel, and Jim Thomson who used to be bartender over at Bloodgood's, and the two Thatchers—they're cousins—that makes five."
"The village ought to be glad they are going to represent her at the front," said Sam.
"From all I can hear," said the commercial man, "I think they are."
"Naturally," cried Sam, "it will reflect great glory on the place. You ought to be proud of them."
"It'll help the insurance business here," said a young man who had not yet spoken.
"How is that?" asked Sam. "I don't exactly see."
"Well, it's this way. You see I'm in the insurance business and I can't write a policy on a barn in this township, there's been so many burned; and while I don't want to say nothing against anybody, we think maybe they won't burn so much when the Thatchers clear out."
"Nothin' ain't ever been proved against 'em," said Tucker.