in the ice-cutting business right away. As I told you, this Signor
Petroskinski is the marvel of the age, and we can simply coin money
with him. Two thousand dollars will start the driving wheels--gi'
me your thousand and I'll put it with mine."

Bunch dug out his last bundle of big bills and I gave him the
partnership articles I had framed up.

"We'll open up in New Rochelle," I said, "next Thursday night.
Charlie Osgood is a friend of mine and he's laid out a gilt-edged
route for me. Mamaroneck Friday night, and then into Cos Cob for
Saturday matinee and night."

"That doesn't sound like a glad hosannah to me!" Bunch grumbled.

"What, Cos Cob!" I answered. "It's aces. Charlie Osgood says Cos
Cob is a great Saturday night town because it's pay-day at the gas
works. From there we jump to Green's Farms for the Monday night
show."

"Is that place really on the map?" Bunch asked.

"Sure it is," I said. "Charlie says it's a good Monday night town
because two through freights lay over there till daylight. Tuesday
night we have to double back to Greenwich, and that's where Charlie
gave us the bum deal. This gag of chasing us back over the same
route is rotten, because somebody may be sitting up for us with a
rock. But Charlie says Greenwich has developed into a great show
town since five new families' moved there last summer. Wednesday
we get into Stamford for a run--two performances. Friday we are