"About a thousand, then?"

"Maybe a thousand, and maybe not more than six or seven hundred."

"Call it seven hundred, then," said the traveler, evidently a little
amused.

"And that will, in my view, be calling it enough."

There was a pause. The traveler seemed in doubt as to whether he
should go on with his queries.

"Not much trade here, I presume?" He asked, at length.

"Not much to boast of," said Adams.

Another pause.

"Any well-to-do people? Gentlemen who live on their means?"

"Yes; there's Aaron Thompson. He's rich, I guess. But you can't
measure a snake 'till he's dead, as they say."

"True," said the traveler, seeming to fall into the landlord's mood.
"Executors often change the public estimate of a man as to this
world's goods. So, Aaron Thompson is one of your rich men?"

"Yes, and there's Abel Reeder--a close-fisted old dog, but wealthy
as a Jew, and no mistake. Then there is Captain Allen."