EM'LY. And Sam?
BOLLINGER. Oh, Sam's all right—say, kin one of you boys lend me a gun—we're huntin' fur him.
JOE. Hunting who?
BOLLINGER. [Intolerant of JOE'S stupidity.] Why, Travers.
JIM. [In quiet contrast.] Where'd he go?
BOLLINGER. Right through the window—knocked over both them green lights—kicked a box o' lickerish all over the sidewalk—kin you spare one?
JOE. [Bustling about.] I ain't got but one, and I reckon I'll take a hand myself.
JIM. [To EM'LY.] Come, little gal, we got to go home.
JOE. [At door. Calls.] Ma—ma!—Say, Jim, you can't resign to-night—I knowed they'd be trouble if you quit.
JIM. Better meet at the Court House. [Exit with EM'LY and passes window going left.