“You set down!” roared a voice. The voters turned and beheld Hiram shaking his fist at the man who was striving to present the name of the opposition candidate. “Set down, I tell ye! I’ll ’tend to the rest of this thing myself and do it right.”
“Question! Question!” shouted many voices.
But the showman was not to be choked off. He leaped upon a settee and roared, vibrating his fists above his head, until by dint of bellowing he had driven the others into silence.
“I’m a voter in this town, and I don’t propose to have bus’ness rammed through without discussion. I know how some of you feel toward me. You think that ev’rything I try to do I’m doin’ just to make trouble. You give me the big end to h’ist ev’ry time. But I’m good for it!”
He brandished his long arms above their heads.
Again the voices broke out into cries of “Question! We want to vote!”
“Vote! Vote!” he screamed, unable to control his passion. He had intended to lead up to his sensation more skilfully. In his rage he now fired it at them like a bombshell.
“Vote for what? For a thief to be your town treasurer? For a man that has stolen forty thousand dollars from this town? That’s what you’re votin’ for. I can prove what I say. Now do you want to vote?”
He leaned far over, propping himself on the shoulders of the man in front of him, and gave them look for look. His sound eye blazed.
He thrust out his arm and shook his long finger at the cowering Judge.