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 they all go. [Returns to wheel.  JIM goes in house.