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.
DAVE. [Going.] I got to get the leather put on this shaft—but that's great. [Exit.
KATE appears in outside door.
KATE. [Coming toward JIM, who is turning gumbo thoughtfully in his hands.] Jim!