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.