At Omaha I parted with my family, who went to St. Louis, while Jack and myself proceeded to Chicago.  Ned Buntline and Mr. Milligan, having been apprised of our coming by a telegram, met us at the depot.  Mr. Milligan accompanied us to the Sherman House, where he had made arrangements for us to be his guests while we remained in the city.  I didn’t see much of Buntline that evening, as he hurried off to deliver a temperance lecture in one of the public halls.  The next day we met him by appointment, and the first thing he said, was: 

“Boys, are you ready for business?”

“I can’t answer that,” replied I, “for we don’t know what we are going to do.”

“It’s all arranged,” said he, “and you’ll have no trouble whatever.  Come with me.  We’ll go and see Nixon, manager of the Amphitheatre.  That’s the place where we are to play.  We’ll open there next Monday night.”  Jack and myself accordingly accompanied him to manager Nixon’s office without saying a word, as we didn’t know what to say.

“Here we are, Mr. Nixon,” said Buntline; “here are the stars for you.  Here are the boys; and they are a fine pair to draw too.  Now, Nixon, I am prepared for business.”

Nixon and Buntline had evidently had a talk about the terms of our engagement.  Buntline, it seems, was to furnish the company, the drama, and the pictorial printing, and was to receive sixty per cent. of the gross receipts for his share; while Nixon was to furnish the theater, the attaches, the orchestra, and the local printing; and receive forty per cent. of the gross receipts.

“I am ready for you, Buntline.  Have you got your company yet?” asked Nixon.

“No, sir; but there are plenty of idle theatrical people in town, and I can raise a company in two hours,” was his reply.

“You haven’t much time to spare, if you open on Monday night,” said Nixon.  “If you will allow me to look at your drama, to see what kind of people you want, I’ll assist you in organizing your company.”

“I have not yet written the drama,” said Buntline.

“What the deuce do you mean?  This is Wednesday, and you propose to open on next Monday night.  The idea is ridiculous.  Here you are at this late hour without a company and without a drama.  This will never do, Buntline.  I shall have to break my contract with you, for you can’t possibly write a drama, cast it, and rehearse it properly for Monday night.  Furthermore, you have no pictorial printing as yet.  These two gentlemen, whom you have with you, have never been on the stage, and they certainly must have time to study their parts.  It is preposterous to think of opening on Monday night, and I’ll cancel the engagement.”

This little speech was delivered in rather an excited manner by Mr. Nixon.  Buntline said that he would write the drama that day and also select his company and have them at the theater for rehearsal next morning.  Nixon laughed at him, and said that there was no use of trying to undertake anything of the kind in so short a time—­it was utterly impossible to do it.  Buntline, whose ire was rising, said to Nixon: