SARBER, _pointing to dog under bench._]
Ever see that chap before?

SARBER. The dog?

JOE. Yes.

SARBER. Is that the same one I dropped the rail on?

JOE. [_Nods._] Me an' Jim put his leg in splinters last night.

SARBER. [_Shaking head and smiling._] Jim!

JOE. [_Pointing to coach._] Looks like you been in the real estate
business, Bill.

SARBER. Wall, yes--we took a turn or two at it.

_Enter_ BOLLINGER.

BOLLINGER. Hello, Sarber, when's your ingine start?

SARBER. Joe's fixin' one of her drivers.

JOE. [_Looking towards forge._] Won't be a minute, Tom.

BOLLINGER. Everybody waiting at the drug-store--we want to go 'fore
it gets too hot,--folks says you're hanging back so Clark kin sell out
his sody water.

SARBER. [_Looking at watch._] Shake her up, Joe.

JOE. I guess we're ready. [_Two_ NEGROES _of a quartette enter and
stand idly about. Takes tire with_ HELPER.] Get out of the way.
[_Drops tire on wheel and adjusts it. Drives pin through one hole._
KELLY _enters, looks at coach, and nervously about._

JOE. What's new, Tom, about Sam Fowler?

BOLLINGER. [_Looking at work._] Papers say the company has let him go.

JOE. Scott free?

BOLLINGER. Yes.

JOE. Then he'll have to pay his own board now.

BOLLINGER. I reckon.

JOE _and_ HELPER _carry wheel to tub and chill the tire._

SARBER. Think she'll stay now?

JOE. As soon as we get the bolts in her. [_Two other_ NEGROES _enter,
completing the male quartette. Enter_ TRAVERS.] Look out.

_They lift wheel to trusses and silently adjust bolts. As this takes
time, the_ NEGROES _fill in with songs._

TRAVERS. [_Coming down with_ KELLY.] Well, what's up?

KELLY. I'm goin' to skip on this stage.

TRAVERS. Why?

KELLY. Too hot,--see papers?

TRAVERS. No.

KELLY. Well, young Sam Fowler will know you the minute he sees
you--and he's comin' back to-day.

TRAVERS. He can't get here till to-night, on account of the
wash-outs--I'm going to risk it.

KELLY. Well, I quit you.

TRAVERS. I risk more than you.

KELLY. All right, but you don't risk me. You went in the car, like a
blamed fool, without a thing on your face--

VILLAGERS _at door_.

TRAVERS. Be careful.

KELLY. Careful? I skip.

_They turn up right. Enter_ JIM.

BOLLINGER. Hello, Jim--Louisiana?

JIM. No. [_Kneels by dog-box._

SARBER. Hello, Jim?

JIM. Ain't you late?

SARBER. Joe's keeping me.

JIM. [_Pointing to door_.] Big load this mornin'?

SARBER. Yes, if