DAVE.  What you lost?

JIM.  Here it is—­[Rises.] Some more of that gumbo. [Crosses to forge.

DAVE.  What you goin’ to do?

JIM.  Burn it. [Looks about as if hunting help.] Here—­come pump this.

DAVE crosses and takes bellows.

DAVE.  What do you want to burn it for?

JIM. [Ignoring question.] Say, Dave—­

DAVE. [Working bellows.] Well?

JIM.  You know them old coal mines down by Jonesburg?

DAVE.  Yes.

JIM.  What do they sell that slack for?

DAVE.  They don’t sell it—­they give it to anyone that’ll haul it away.

JIM.  I wonder if they wouldn’t deliver it if you took a good deal.

DAVE.  Don’t know.

JIM whistles cheerily a moment and examines gumbo burning.

JIM. [Pause.  Sitting on anvil.] You seem under the weather, Dave.

DAVE. [Moodily.] Oh, I’d be all right, if I had a stidy job.

JIM. [Laughing.] A steady job!—­why, you’ve been workin’ nights ever since I knew you.

DAVE.  I know—­but Joe says—­I—­I ought to have a stidy job.

JIM.  What’s Joe got to do with it?

DAVE.  Well—­Lizbeth—­

JIM. [Amused.] Oh!

DAVE.  An’ I think I could get one, only he don’t gimme no time off to look fur it.

JIM.  Wait a minute. [Takes gumbo from fire.] Yes, sir—­she’s gettin’ hot. [Puts it back and whistles a tune.

DAVE.  I’ve almost made a set o’ furniture myself.

JIM.  Have, eh?

DAVE.  Dug it out with that little draw-knife.  I tell you—­you can make anything that’s made out of wood—­with a draw-knife.

JIM. [On anvil again.] Well, it seems to me, Dave, that you’re going at it the wrong way.

DAVE.  How’s that?

JIM.  The old man won’t give his consent till you git a steady job.

DAVE.  That’s it—­

JIM.  And you want a steady job so’s you can marry Lizbeth?

DAVE.  Exactly.

JIM.  Well, you marry—­marry Lizbeth, and you’ll have a steady job. [Gets down. DAVE, absorbed with the idea, pumps vigorously.] Hold on! [DAVE stops; JIM takes gumbo from fire with tongs, and plunges it in the water.] Yes, sir, there it is—­hard as a rock—­and ain’t it a purty color?

DAVE.  What you goin’ to do with it?

JIM.  I don’t know but if the Wabash could get enough of it to ballast that track that washes out every spring, I think they’d take it.

DAVE. [In admiration.] Well, I’m durned.  The raw gumbo is all along their track.  Wouldn’t cost you nothin’, would it?

JIM.  Not if I kin get that Jonesburg slack—­ha, ha!

DAVE.  Why, that’s great!

JIM. [Drawing watch.] It’s a half hour before train time.  I’ll jump to St. Louis with the scheme. [Stands thinking.