“Everywhere I go,” said Hiram, “Figger-four is right at my elbow, still askin’ questions. And I get interested in answerin’ and I forget and try to keep step with him, and the first thing I know I’m hoppin’ along worse than a darned jack-rabbit. But he’ll do errands like a fly.”
Therefore he did not rebuff the little man. In consequence Avery was able to report that Hiram had travelled all over the country; that he had brought his chariots to Palermo because he was going to start out with another circus after he got rested up and had squared things with his brother. Furthermore, the people who had bought his other show property weren’t willing to pay a fair price for the waggons, and Hiram didn’t propose to be “Jewed.” No one had ever got the better of Hiram, so Hiram told Avery, and Avery told the people of Palermo. He had—at this point Figger-four always took a long breath—rising forty thousand dollars in the bank, beside what he carried in the fat pocketbook. He was ready to lend money on first mortgages, and Avery was able to state that already several persons whom Judge Willard had been squeezing for bonuses on renewal of their notes had refunded their loans with Hiram. As Avery bobbed around telling this, he served as an excellent advertising medium, and other patrons of Judge Willard, who had been the town’s sole financial man for years, came to the new capitalist for loans. Avery admitted that probably the Judge would still enjoy a monopoly of handling the money of the widows and orphans and old folks who had placed their funds with him for investment, because Hiram was not yet morally rehabilitated in the town’s opinion.
“But there ain’t a better man to borrow money from,” concluded his champion. “He don’t take no bonus and he lets you have it for six per cent, and set your own time.”
Moreover, Hiram started the hum of industry in Palermo by hiring Ezra Mayo and several helpers to build a shelter for the circus waggons. And he was also vaguely hinting to the admiring Avery that next season he might start something in the way of business in Palermo that would make people open their eyes.
“You’re all deader’n a side-show mermaid here in Palermo,” he said one afternoon as he and Avery were sitting by the roadside under one of the big Look poplars. “There’s a lot of things that need to be peppered up. My brother Phin could have done it if he wasn’t too easy-goin’. Now, how long has old Coll Willard been town treasurer?”
There was a queer glint in the good eye that Hiram turned on Avery.
“Goin’ on thirty years.”
“Does he give bonds?”
“Hain’t ever been asked to,” replied Figger-four, with the readiness of one whose business is to know other people’s affairs. “This town wouldn’t ask a Willard to do such a thing as that. He’s safer’n the Bank of England, the Judge is.”
“Is, eh?” Hiram’s voice was hard. “I’ve seen a town note that was signed with only his name as treasurer. Does the town allow him to borrow money that way?”