"Well, sir, you see," said Handy some weeks after in relating the adventure to a friend, "we had previously determined to start from Staten Island, when one of the company got it into his head that we might show on the island for 'one night only,' and make a little something into the bargain. Besides, he reasoned, all first-class companies nowadays adopt that plan of breaking in their people. Some cynical individuals describe this first night operation as 'trying it on the dog,' but as that is a vulgar way of putting it we'll let it pass. We turned the matter over in our minds, and almost unanimously agreed that it was too near the city to make the attempt, but the strong arguments of Smith prevailed—he was the one who first advocated it—and we therefore resolved to set up our tent and present 'Uncle Tom's Cabin' with an unparalleled cast from the California Theatre.

"You must remember we desired to have the company hail from a point as far distant as possible from New York, and we could hardly have gone further or we would have slid right plumb off the continent. But we told no lie about the company being unparalleled. No, sir. You couldn't match it for money. It was what might be legitimately considered a 'star cast company.'

"One of the company was a dwarf. That was lucky, or we would have been stuck for a Little Eva. So the dwarf was cast for Eva; and he doubled up and served as an ice floe, with a painted soap box on his back to represent a floating cake of ice in the flight scene. He played the ice floe much better than he did Eva. But that's neither here nor there now, as he got through with both. What's more, he's alive to-day to tell the tale. Between ourselves, he was the oddest looking Eva—and the toughest one, too, for that matter—you ever clapped eyes upon.

"In the dying scene, where Eva is supposed to start for heaven, we struck up the tune of 'Dem Golden Slippers' in what we considered appropriate time. Well! whatever it was—whether it was the music, the singing, or little Eva's departure for the heavenly regions—it nearly broke up the show. The audience simply wouldn't stand for it. Just at that impressive moment when the Golden Gates were supposed to be ajar, and dear little Eva's spirit was about to pass the gate-keeper, a couple of rural hoodlums in the starboard side of the tent began to whistle the suggestive psalm, 'There'll Be a Hot Time in the Old Town To-night.' When I heard it I felt convinced it wouldn't be safe to give that programme for more than one night in any town.

"We hurried through the performance for two special reasons: first, because the audience evidently did not appear to appreciate or take kindly to the company from the California Theatre, and secondly on account of the rising wind which was beginning to blow up pretty fresh, and the tent was not sufficiently able-bodied to stand too much of a pressure from outside as well as from within. Consequently we rang down the curtain rather prematurely on the last act. It is nothing more than candid to allow that the audience was not as quiet at the close as in the earlier scenes of the drama. We had no kick coming, however, as the gross receipts footed up seventeen dollars and fifty cents.

"We struck tent without much delay and managed to get our traps together. We were about to carry them down to the Gem of the Ocean when Smith, the property man, approached me with the information that there was a man looking for me who intimated that he was going to levy on our props. 'What's up?' I asked.

"'Don't know,' answered Smith, 'but I think you had better see him yourself.'

"I did, and it proved to be the sheriff, or some fellow of that persuasion. He came to make it warm for us because, forsooth, we showed without a license. And this, mind you, in what we regard as a free country. Ye gods! Well, be that as it may, you can readily see we were in a bad box, and how to get out of it was the perplexing problem that confronted me.

"I claimed ignorance of the law, but it was no go. I then attempted a bluff game, but it wouldn't work for a cent. I tried him on all the points of the compass of strategem, but he was a Staten Islander, and I failed satisfactorily to inoculate him with my histrionic eloquence. The members of the company, however, were not wasting time and were getting the things down to the dock, only a short distance off.

"Finally, as if inspired, I suggested to the official that we drop over the way, to Clausen's, and talk the matter over. I was thirsty, and I had an instinctive idea that my political friend also was. He hesitated a moment, and then started across with me. We walked slowly and talked freely. At length we got down to hard pan. I was ready to settle up and pay the license fee, but he wasn't ready to receive it. The fee, I think, was five dollars, but he wanted something in addition for his trouble. He didn't say as much, but I knew that was what he was hinting at. These politicians are so modest. I know them from past experience.

"When we reached Clausen's we retired to a quiet corner in the back room and continued our conversation. I set up the beer, called for the cigars, and then motioned for another round. The sheriff was quite agreeable. Suddenly it flashed through my mind that I did not have one cent in my clothes. Sy Jones, whom we had appointed treasurer, had taken possession of the gross receipts. I was nonplussed for the time being. What to do I couldn't tell for the moment, but I didn't communicate that fact to my official friend. We had some more refreshments, and then I excused myself for a minute and went out into the yard back of the house. As fate would have it, the fence was not high. Without much hesitation I took chances, sprang over it, and started for the water-side as quickly as my legs would travel.

"I knew exactly where the Gem of the Ocean lay. The boys had worked like beavers in the interim. They had everything stowed away snugly. It did not take me long to get aboard with the rest of the boys.

"'Get to work and cast off as quickly as you can,' I whispered, rather than yelled. It was an anxious moment, I tell you, for just at that moment the front door of Clausen's power house was flung wide open and loud and angry voices were borne on the night wind to where we lay. 'Push her bow off, for the Lord's sake!' I yelled, while I was busily engaged in running up the jib.

"It wasn't then a question of sheriff alone. Clausen, the German saloon-keeper, and his gang were coming down on us like a pack of wolves on a sheepfold. Clausen, naturally enough, was considerably put out, simply because I was forced through the contradictory nature of conflicting circumstances to arbitrarily stand him up for the refreshments and smokes, and he appeared desirous of getting square. Fortunately for us, the high wind that had threatened to blow over our tent was off-shore, and by the time the Staten Islanders reached the end of the dock we had a good breeze full on the sails and were laying our course for the hospitable shore of Long Island."