In unloading a barrel of sugar from a wagon, it slipped from the skid and fell upon his leg causing a compound fracture. He was taken home, but when the doctor was called he advised his immediate removal to the Isaac Pettingill Free Hospital for he was afraid an amputation would be necessary. Unfortunately, his fears proved to be true, and Hiram's right leg was amputated just below the knee. “That Hiram's an unlucky cuss,” said Mr. Strout to his hearers one evening at the grocery. “But think of me. This is our busy season and with everything piled onto me I'm just about tuckered out. What help will he be stumbling around on crutches?” “Can't he have a wooden leg?” asked Abner Stiles. “Yes, of course he can. An' if you lost your head and got a wooden one in its place you'd be just as well off as you are now.” This remark caused a laugh at Abner which he took good-naturedly. When Mr. Strout was out of sorts he always vented his spleen on somebody. “Well,” said Benoni Hill, “I'm awful sorry for Hiram with a wife and children to support. Of course his pay will go right on, bein' as he's a partner.” “I don't know about that,” said Strout. “That's for the trustees to decide, and I've got to decide whether I'll do two men's work for one man's pay.” “He would for you,” Abner blurted out. “If you think so much of him, why don't you come in and do his work for him?” said Strout. “When you were going to buy this store, and Mr. Sawyer got ahead of yer, yer promised me a job here as pay for some special nosin' round I'd done fer yer--but when yer got in the saddle you forgot the feller who'd boosted yer up. When a man breaks his word to me onct he don't do it a second time. That's why,” and Abner went out and slammed the door after him. Mr. Strout was angry, and when in that state of mind he was often lacking in prudence in speech. “That comes of turning a place of business into a resort for loafers. If I owned this store outright there'd be a big sign up somewhere--'When you've transacted your business, think of Home Sweet Home.'” “I reckon that's a hint,” said Benoni Hill, as he arose and put on his hat. “You won't be troubled with me or my trade in futur'. There are stores in Cottonton jus' as good as this, and the proprietors are gentlemen.” He left the store, and one by one the “loafers” followed him as no one had the courage to break the silence that fell upon the company after old Mr. Hill's departure. Mr. Strout, left alone to close up the store, was more angry than ever. “What cussed fools. I was hitting back at Abner and they thought the coat fit and put it on. They'll come round again. They won't enjoy tramping over to Cottonton for kerosene and molasses.” The store was lighted by kerosene lamps resting on brackets. It was Mr. Strout's custom to take them down, blow them out, and replace them on the brackets. One was always left burning, as Mr. Strout said “so burglars could see their way round.”