He began to frown again as he wrote.
“It’s goin’ to be a clean sale,” he muttered. “I don’t never in all my life want to see a circus, hear of a circus, talk with a circus man——”
The parrot hooked his beak around a wire and rattled away jovially:
“Crack ’em down, gents!” he shrieked.
Hiram shot an angry glance and an oath at the cage.
“No, sir, never! They may molasses ye over at first, but it’s only to make ye easier to swaller. Own folks don’t do that. You know just where to find ’em, there’s that much about ’em. It’s goin’ to be a clean sale. Think of it—me a man that has been through it all from A to Z being held up by——”
“Twenty can play it as well as one!” remarked the parrot.
It was a hideous scowl that Hiram flashed up.
“Not only trimmin’ me, but makin’ me run the risk of goin’ to court and havin’ it trailed out from Clew to Erie!”
“It’s the old army game, gents!” the parrot squalled. His tone was nerve-racking.