uently he would say to men like the three
Gorman brothers--George, James, and John--who were among his prime pals
in the company:

"Why don't you rehearse some new steps? I'll go on and watch you at
rehearsals and we can put it in the bill."

Out of such incidents as this came a dozen new features.

* * *

During this tour Charles displayed on many occasions what amounted to a
reckless disregard of danger. He had proved on the Dillon tour that he
was always willing to take a chance.

Once while climbing a steep incline on the way to Grass Valley in
California their special train stopped. When he asked what the trouble
was he was told that they would have to wait on a switch while another
train came down the single track. He was afraid he would miss the
evening's performance, so he asked the engineer if he could beat the
down train to the double track. On being told that there was a chance,
he said:

"Take it and go as fast as you can." He made his town in time.

Again in Colorado his train was stopped by a slight fire on a bridge. He
urged the conductor to go across, and was so insistent that the man
yielded, and the train got over just before the flames leaped up and the
structure began to crackle.

What would have been an ordinary theatrical season waned. A minstrel
company, however, seldom closed for the summer, so the tour continued.
For the first time Charles Frohman crossed the continent. Despite its
high-sounding name and the glitter and splash that marked its
spectacular progress from place to place, the long trip of the Mastodons
was not without its hardships, for business was often bad. Nor did it
lack interesting episodes.

Once while making an over-Sunday jump from St. Paul to Omaha the train
broke down somewhere in Iowa, and at seven o'clock the company was four
hours from its destination. The house had been sold out. Charles
immediately began to send optimistic and encouraging telegrams.

"Hold the crowd," he wired. "We are on the way. Tell them we will give
them a double show."

From every station he sent on some cheering message. When the train was
half an hour from Omaha he sought out Sam Devere, the prize banjoist of
the company and a great fun-maker.

"Go into the baggage-car and black up," he said to Sam. "I want to rush
you on to the theater as soon as we get to town."

They reached Omaha at eleven-fifteen o'clock. Charles hustled Devere up
to the opera-house in a hack. The comedian