it this time o' the year?"

"I do something like this every spring. A month or six weeks of it
puts me in fine shape for a vacation later on," supplied Mr. Barnes
whimsically.

Mr. Jones allowed a grin to steal over his seamed face. He re-inserted
the corn-cob pipe and took a couple of pulls at it.

"I never been to New York, but it must be a heavenly place for a
vacation, if a feller c'n judge by what some of my present boarders
have to say about it. It's a sort of play-actor's paradise, ain't it?"

"It is paradise to every actor who happens to be on the road, Mr.
Jones," said Barnes, slipping his big pack from his shoulders and
letting it slide to the floor.

"Hear that feller in the tap-room talkin'? Well, he is one of the
leading actors in New York,--in the world, for that matter. He's been
talkin' about Broadway for nearly a week now, steady."

"May I enquire what he is doing up here in the wilds?"

"At present he ain't doing anything except talk. Last week he was
treadin' the boards, as he puts it himself. Busted. Up the flue.
Showed last Saturday night in Hornville, eighteen mile north of here,
and immediately after the performance him and his whole troupe started
to walk back to New York, a good four hunderd mile. They started out
the back way of the opery house and nobody missed 'em till next
mornin' except the sheriff, and he didn't miss 'em till they'd got