es, wondering how
they could start their tour, with Charles as an interested listener.

Every now and then he would chirp up with the question:

"How do I get out of town?"

Finally Gustave, always resourceful, said:

"You don't need any money, Charley. I've got railroad passes for you,
and you can give the hotels orders on me for your board and lodging."

It was a custom in those days for advance-agents to give orders for
their obligations--hotel, rent of hall, bill-posting, and baggage--upon
the company that followed. Hotels in particular were willing to accept
orders on the treasurer of a theatrical company about to play a date,
because, in the event of complete failure, there was always baggage to
seize and hold.

So, armed with passes and with the optimism of youth and anticipation,
Charles set forth on what became in many respects the most memorable
road experience in his life. The first town he billed was Streator,
Illinois. Then he hurried on to Ottawa and Peoria, where they were to
play during fair week, which was the big week of the year. Misfortune
descended at Streator, for despite the lavish display of posters and the
ample advance notice that Charles lured the local editors into
publishing, the total receipts on the first night were seventy-seven
dollars. This, and more, had already been pledged before the curtain
went up, and Gustave was not even able to pay John Dillon his seven
dollars and seventy cents, which represented his ten per cent, of the
gross receipts.

By "traveling on their baggage," which was one of the expedients of the
time and a custom which has not entirely passed out of use, the company
got to Ottawa, where Charles joined them. Here, in a comic circumstance,
he first developed the amazing influence that he was able to exert on
people.

Although an admirable actor with a large following and the most
delightful and companionable of men, John Dillon had one unfortunate
failing. He was addicted to drink, and, regardless of consequences, he
would periodically succumb to this weakness. At Ottawa, the town crowded
with visitors for the annual fair, Dillon fell from grace. The bill for
the evening was "Lemons," and there was every indication that the house
would be sold out. The receipts were badly needed, too.

Late in the afternoon came the terrifying news that Dillon lay stupefied
from liquor in his room. Everybody save Charles was in despair. Dillon
had conceived a great fancy f