“I’d ruther walk on granite than have web feet and paddle in muck,” retorted Uncle Trufant, ready with the ancient taunt as to the big bog that occupied Smyrna’s interior.

“Ducks are good property,” rejoined the Cap’n, serenely, “but I never heard of any one keepin’ crows for pets nor raisin’ ’em for market.  There ain’t anything but a crow will light on your town, and they only do it because the sight of it makes ’em faint.”

Stimulated because bystanders were listening to the colloquy, Uncle Trufant shook his cane under Cap’n Sproul’s nose.

“That’s what ye be in Smyrna—­ducks!” he squealed.  “You yourself come to your own when ye waddled off’m the deck of a ship and settled there.  Down here to-day with an el’funt and what’s left of a busted circus, and singin’ brag songs, when there ain’t a man in this county but what knows Smyrna never had the gristle to put up a fight man-fashion at a firemen’s muster.  Vienny can shake one fist at ye and run ye up a tree.  Vienny has allus done it.  Vienny allus will do it.  Ye can’t fight!”

Hiram had cocked his ear at sound of Uncle Trufant’s petulant squeal.  He thrust close to them, elbowing the crowd.

“Fight!  Why, you old black and tan, what has fightin’ got to do with the makin’ of a fire department?  There’s been too much fightin’ in years past.  It’s a lot of old terriers like you that had made firemen looked down on.  Your idee of fire equipment was a kag of new rum and plenty of brass knuckles.  I can show ye that times has changed!  Look at that picture there!” He waved his hairy hand at the ladies who were distributing the last of the lunch-baskets.  “That’s the way to come to muster—­come like gents, act like gents, eat like gents, and when it’s all over march with your lady on your arm.”

“Three cheers for the ladies!” yelled an enthusiastic member of the Smyrna company.  The cheers coming up had to crowd past food going down, but the effect was good, nevertheless.

“That’s the idea!” shouted Hiram.  “Peace and politeness, and everybody happy.  If that kind of a firemen’s muster don’t suit Vienny, then her company better take the next train back home and put in the rest of the day firin’ rocks at each other.  If Vienny stays here she’s got to be genteel, like the rest of us—­and the Smyrna Ancients will set the pace.  Ain’t that so, boys?”

His men yelled jubilant assent.

Uncle Trufant’s little eyes shuttled balefully.

“Oh, that’s it, is it?” he jeered.  “I didn’t know I’d got into the ladies’ sewin’-circle.  But if you’ve got fancy-work in them shoppin’-bags of your’n, and propose to set under the trees this afternoon and do tattin’, I wouldn’t advise ye to keep singin’ that song you marched in here with.  It ain’t ladylike.  Better sing, ’Oh, how we love our teacher dear!’”