“It’s a thundering scrape!” grated the corpulent manager. “Collins ought to be shot!”
“Did you hear that name, Frank?” asked Ephraim.
“Yes,” nodded Merry.
“Know what they’re talkin’ abaout?”
“Yes. Collins is the advance man.”
“Sure pop. There’s somethin’ the matter with him, an’ that’ll bu’st the show sure. No show kin run ’thout a corkin’ good man ahead of it, and——”
“Isn’t Collins a good man?”
“He’s all right, but somethin’s happened. All the bad luck is hittin’ us in a heap. There’s a hoodoo with this show, and I know it, b’gosh! If Haley can’t yank any more dollars aout of Hawkins, then there’ll be a reduction of expenses. Know jest whut that means?”
“No, I——”
“I do. It means that the band will be dropped, fer it’s an almighty big expense. Me and Hans will be aout of a job. Mebbe the comp’ny kin hold together anuther week by droppin’ the band, but we pull the craowd, and we’ll be missed. Gol darned if this air show business is jest whut it’s cracked up to be! It’s too blamed oncertain. I wish I was to hum on the farm.”