JOE. Won't be a minute longer--soon as we stretch her a little and drop her over this bunch of bones-- SARBER. [_Examining wheel._] Hello, Cal? [HELPER _nods._] Fellers ain't hurt? JOE. Nothin' ain't hurt. [_Enter_ ESROM _with water._] This wheel's got as purty a dish as I ever see. SARBER. Don't know why the durned weld broke. JOE. Them steel tires are hard to make fast sometimes-- ESROM. Right heah, Joe. JOE. Let her go. ESROM _pours water into tub._ ESROM. [_Coaxingly._] No coke dis mawnin'? JOE. No. [ESROM _exits._ _To_ 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 they all go. [_Returns to wheel_. JIM _goes in house_.