The confidence of one average cattle-man in another is a matter of more than passing wonder. Yet almost from time immemorial it has been respected, and instances are rare indeed where this confidence has been betrayed to any degree. Perhaps after all the ancient theory that "trust reposed breeds honesty in men," has in it a large measure of truthfulness, and if practised universally might result in huge elevation of the race. And it may be, indeed, that those who attempt to apply this principle to the business affairs of men are philanthropists of no little stature. But it is at best a dangerous experiment, wherein the safeguards of society are lowered, and whereby grievous wrongs break in and despoil the citizen.
To the view of one standing out from the circle of things, men often present queer contradictions. They call upon the state to protect them from the petty rogue and make no effort to protect themselves from the great one. They place themselves voluntarily in positions of peril, and then cry out bitterly if by any mishap they suffer hurt from it, and fume and rail at the law, when it is themselves they should rail at. The wonder is that the average business man is not ruined by the rogue. Surely the ignorance of the knave will not protect him always.
The situation would seem to arise from a false belief that the protection of the law is a great shield, covering at all points against the attacks of wrong.
V.
On Saturday afternoon about three o'clock, the cashier of the Fourth National Bank in the town of Clarksburg called Thomas Woodford as he was passing on the street, and requested him to come at once into the directors' room. Woodford saw by the man's face that there was something serious the matter and he hurried after him to the door of the private office. As he entered, Mr. Izzard arose and crossed the room to him. The old man held a check in his hand and was evidently laboring under great excitement.
"Woodford," he cried, thrusting the check up into the cattle-shipper's face, "this thing is not worth a damn! There is no money here to pay it."
"No money to pay it!" echoed Woodford. "You must be crazy. We put the money in here Monday. There's ten thousand dollars here to pay it."
"Well," said the old man, trembling with anger, "there is none here now. You gave me this check Tuesday on my cattle which you and Harris bought, and you told me there was money here to meet it. I thought you were all right, of course, and I did not come to town until to-day. Now the cashier says there is not a cursèd cent here to the credit of you and Harris."