hey fastened shut with a
piece of board; and as they walked home they made plans for the future
conduct of their business.

"We got to put on a few hands to pick up the apples while we run the
mill, if we want to increase our produck," Sube informed his partner
gravely. "There's too much overhead for us to handle alone."

"I'd say there was too much underfoot," returned Gizzard with equal
gravity. "What we want is apples--"

"I guess you don't understand much about bus'ness," was Sube's lofty
comment. "Overhead's a reg'lar bus'ness word that means--means somethin'
special."

Gizzard defended his position heatedly. "I guess I know jus' much about
it as you do!" he retorted. "Underfoot's a reg'lar word, too! And it
means some'pm special! I've heard my dad use it a hundred times."

For a moment Sube maintained a discreet silence. He wanted to avoid
having trouble with his partner at the very beginning of their business
career if it could be done with honor; especially as the title to the
business was somewhat clouded. Then he said diplomatically:

"Well, anyway, we got to put on a few more hands to pick up apples."

"Right you are," agreed Gizzard. "Who we goin' to get?"

"Oh, we might hire Stucky Richards, and Cathead, and Cottontop Sigsbee.
S'pose that'll be enough?"

"We don't want to get too many! The more we have, the more cider they'll
drink up."

"That's right. I guess they'll do."

The cider mill commenced business in earnest that afternoon with a full
roster of hands. And they soon demonstrated their sufficiency, for
apples were delivered at the press faster than the proprietors could
dispose of them. When they had picked up all the apples on the ground
they threshed the tree until hardly an apple was left on it; and they
even went so far as to pick a bushel of crabapples for their employers.

The result of the afternoon's work (which was well up in the gallons)
was placed in a convenient cask equipped with a spigot. Then the
enterprise was reorganized as a saloon. Ol' Uncle George's workbench
made an ideal bar, at which thirsty customers clamored for beer, liquor,
and other ugly-sounding beverages, that Sube and Gizzard as bartenders
served with a flourish an expert sodawater clerk might well have envied.

Then the histrionic muse, never far beneath the surface of youth, came
forth and transformed the scene into an extemporaneous drama that was a
howling success in spite of its leanings towards the