DAVE. How's that?
JIM. Will you do me a favour?
DAVE. Certainly.
JIM. [Pointing off right.] This letter—give it to the Mayor, or any of the Council—some of them's sure to be at the convention.
DAVE. All right. [He goes onto the stile and stops.] Bollinger's one, ain't he?
JIM. Yes.
DAVE. He's comin' with them fellers—
JIM. Well, give it to him—a little before he gits here.
DAVE. All right, Jim. [Starts off—stops.] No trouble, you don't reckon?
JIM. No, I reckon not.