For the first few moments the voters had wavered between shocked astonishment and anger. But the town understood so well the showman’s extravagances of speech and actions that on second thought this last performance seemed only another of his prodigious bluffs. Now to behold him badgered in the same fashion in which he had badgered Palermo, and backing away from the bets, was too much for their risibilities. The more they laughed the more utter became his confusion. The whole thing had turned out so differently from what he expected. “I’ll bet ye five thousand to two,” shrilled Badger, excited by his success and by the applause. “And I’ll stump ye to bet! I’ll stump ye!” The mirth broke out again, for Hiram pulled out his handkerchief and scrubbed it over his reddening face. “This has gone far enough, townsmen!” called the Squire. “It isn’t seemly to conduct town affairs in this manner.” He had mounted the platform, and his firm tones quieted them. “It isn’t seemly, either, for an irresponsible person to lose his head and make accusations that he cannot back up. It is a deplorable thing that has just happened here, townsmen.” They all became grave with his gravity. “No personal feelings of my own shall check me from saying that a man who stands up in a public place and perpetrates criminal libel deserves the severest punishment that the law has for such a crime. But under the circumstances I ask from you this one bit of forbearance: It is that you will forget what this person has said here and allow him to go, on condition that he will not repeat his offence, here or elsewhere. If he does--” the Squire’s face grew hard and stern--“I will prosecute him myself, brother though he be of mine.” For a moment there was utter silence, and then, with callused palms and thudding boots, the voters roared their applause. Hiram strode off the settee and into the centre aisle, and was about to speak, his face black with rage. “Not another word, sir,” the Squire shouted. “Not one word, or I’ll withdraw my protection.” But Hiram whirled at the door on his way out, unable to repress the furious indignation that surged to his lips. He began to understand the manner in which he had been cheated out of his vengeance. His anger shifted from the voters, who had so blindly followed, to the man who had led them--and that man was his brother. “I’ll bet ye ten thousand dollars to one that I know who lifted the lid that let the old rat out of his trap,” he shouted. His eye flamed redly on Phineas. “It took ready money to do it. It was your money, Phin Look! Some of it was money that I earnt! Our old father turned in his grave this day. I stand here before the whole of you and tell you, Phin Look, that you are a----”