Title: Two Men of Sandy Bar: A Drama
Author: Harte, Bret, 1836-1902
Language: English
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TWO MEN OF SANDY BAR

by Bret Harte



DRAMATIS PERSONAE


The Prodigals.

"SANDY".. Son of Alexander Morton, sen.

JOHN OAKHURST.. His former partner, personating the prodigal son, Sandy.


COL. STARBOTTLE.. Alexander Morton, sen.'s, legal adviser.

OLD MORTON.. Alexander Morton, sen.

DON JOSE.. Father of Jovita Castro.

CAPPER.. A detective.

CONCHO.. Major-domo of Don Jose's rancho.

YORK.. An old friend of Oakhurst.

PRITCHARD.. An Australian convict.

SOAPY & SILKY.. His pals.

JACKSON.. Confidential clerk of Alexander Morton, jun., and confederate
of Pritchard.

HOP SING.. A Chinese laundryman.

SERVANT of Alexander Morton, sen.--POLICEMEN.

MISS MARY MORRIS.. The schoolmistress of Red Gulch, in love with Sandy,
and cousin of Alexander Morton, sen.

DONA JOVITA CASTRO.. In love with John Oakhurst, and daughter of Don
Jose.

THE DUCHESS.. Wife of Pritchard, illegally married to Sandy, and former
"flame" of John Oakhurst.

MANUELA.. Servant of Castro, and maid to Dona Jovita.


ACT I

The Rancho of the Blessed Innocents, and House of Don Jose Castro.

ACT II

Red Gulch.

ACT III

The Banking-House of Morton & Son, San Francisco.

ACT IV

The Villa of Alexander Morton, sen., San Francisco.



COSTUMES

ALEXANDER MORTON ("SANDY").--First dress: Mexican vaquero; black velvet
trousers open from knee, over white trousers; laced black velvet jacket,
and broad white sombrero; large silver spurs. Second dress: miner's
white duck jumper, and white duck trousers; (sailor's) straw hat. Third
dress: fashionable morning costume. Fourth dress: full evening dress.

JOHN OAKHURST.--First dress: riding-dress, black, elegantly fitting.
Second and third dress: fashionable. Fourth dress: full evening dress.

COL. STARBOTTLE.--First dress: blue double-breasted frock, and white
"strapped" trousers; white hat. Second dress: same coat, blue trousers,
and black broad-brimmed felt hat; cane, semper; ruffles, semper. Third
dress: the same. Fourth dress: the same, with pumps.

YORK.--Fashionable morning dress.

JACKSON.--Business suit.

CONCHO.--First dress: vaquero's dress. Second dress: citizen's dress.

HOP SING.--Dress of Chinese coolie: dark-blue blouse, and dark-blue
drawers gathered at ankles; straw conical hat, and wooden sabots.

DON JOSE.--First dress: serape, black, with gold embroidery. Second
class: fashionable black suit, with broad-brimmed black stiff sombrero.

OLD MORTON.--First, second, third, and fourth dress: black, stiff, with
white cravat.

CAPPER.--Ordinary dress of period.

MISS MARY.--First dress: tasteful calico morning dress. Second and third
dress: lady's walking costume--fashionable. Fourth dress: full dress.

DONA JOVITA.--First dress: handsome Spanish dress, with manta. Second
dress: more elaborate, same quality.

THE DUCHESS.--First dress: elaborate but extravagant fashionable
costume. Second dress: traveling dress.

MANUELA.--The saya y manta; white waist, and white or black skirt, with
flowers.



TWO MEN OF SANDY BAR



ACT I

SCENE 1.--Courtyard and Corridors of the Rancho.


MANUELA (arranging supper-table in corridor L., solus). There!
Tortillas, chocolate, olives, and--the whiskey of the Americans! And
supper's ready. But why Don Jose chooses to-night, of all nights, with
this heretic fog lying over the Mission Hills like a wet serape, to take
his supper out here, the saints only know. Perhaps it's some distrust of
his madcap daughter, the Dona Jovita; perhaps to watch her--who knows?
And now to find Diego. Ah, here he comes. So! The old story. He is
getting Dona Jovita's horse ready for another madcap journey. Ah!
(Retires to table.)

Enter cautiously from corridor, L., SANDY MORTON, carrying lady's saddle
and blanket; starts on observing MANUELA, and hastily hides saddle and
blanket in recess.

Sandy (aside). She's alone. I reckon the old man's at his siesta yet. Ef
he'll only hang onto that snooze ten minutes longer, I'll manage to let
that gal Jovita slip out to that yer fandango, and no questions asked.

Manuela (calling SANDY). Diego!

Sandy (aside, without heeding her). That's a sweet voice for a serenade.
Round, full, high-shouldered, and calkilated to fetch a man every time.
Only thar ain't, to my sartain knowledge, one o' them chaps within a
mile of the rancho. (Laughs.)

Manuela. Diego!

Sandy (aside). Oh, go on! That's the style o' them Greasers. They'll
stand rooted in their tracks, and yell for a chap without knowin'
whether he's in sight or sound.

Manuela (approaching SANDY impatiently). Diego!

Sandy (starting, aside). The devil! Why, that's ME she's after.
(Laughs.) I clean disremembered that when I kem yer I tole those chaps
my name was James,--James Smith (laughs), and thet they might call me
"Jim." And De-a-go's their lingo for Jim. (Aloud.) Well, my beauty,
De-a-go it is. Now, wot's up?

Manuela. Eh? no sabe!

Sandy. Wot's your little game. (Embraces her.)

Manuela (aside, and recoiling coquettishly). Mother of God! He must be
drunk again. These Americans have no time for love when they are sober.
(Aloud and coquettishly.) Let me go, Diego. Don Jose is coming. He has
sent for you. He takes his supper to-night on the corridor. Listen,
Diego. He must not see you thus. You have been drinking again. I will
keep you from him. I will say you are not well.

Sandy. Couldn't you, my darling, keep him from ME? Couldn't you make him
think HE was sick? Couldn't you say he's exposin' his precious health by
sittin' out thar to-night; thet ther's chills and fever in every breath?
(Aside.) Ef the old Don plants himself in that chair, that gal's chances
for goin' out to-night is gone up.

Manuela. Never. He would suspect at once. Listen, Diego. If Don Jose
does not know that his daughter steals away with you to meet some
caballero, some LOVER,--you understand, Diego,--it is because he does
not know, or would not SEEM to know, what every one else in the rancho
knows. Have a care, foolish Diego! If Don Jose is old and blind, look
you, friend, we are NOT. You understand?

Sandy (aside). What the devil does she expect?--money? No! (Aloud.) Look
yer, Manuela, you ain't goin' to blow on that young gal! (Putting his
arm around her waist.) Allowin' that she hez a lover, thar ain't nothin'
onnateral in thet, bein' a purty sort o' gal. Why, suppose somebody
should see you and me together like this, and should just let on to the
old man.

Manuela. Hush! (Disengaging herself.) Hush! He is coming. Let me go,
Diego. It is Don Jose!

Enter Don Jose, who walks gravely to the table, and seats himself.
MANUELA retires to table.

Sandy (aside). I wonder if he saw us. I hope he did: it would shut that
Manuela's mouth for a month of Sundays. (Laughs.) God forgive me for it!
I've done a heap of things for that young gal Dona Jovita; but this yer
gittin' soft on the Greaser maid-servant to help out the misses is a
little more than Sandy Morton bargained fur.

Don Jose (to MANUELA). You can retire. Diego will attend me. (Looks at
DIEGO attentively.) [Exit MANUELA.

Sandy (aside). Diego will attend him! Why, blast his yeller skin, does
he allow that Sandy Morton hired out as a purty waiter-gal? Because
I calkilated to feed his horses, it ain't no reason thet my dooty to
animals don't stop thar. Pass his hash! (Turns to follow MANUELA, but
stops.) Hello, Sandy! wot are ye doin', eh? You ain't going back on Miss
Jovita, and jest spile that gal's chances to git out to-night, on'y to
teach that God-forsaken old gov'ment mule manners? No! I'll humor the
old man, and keep one eye out for the gal. (Comes to table, and leans
familiarly over the back of DON JOSE'S chair.)

Don Jose (aside). He seems insulted and annoyed. His manner strengthens
my worst suspicions. He has not expected this. (Aloud.) Chocolate,
Diego.

Sandy (leaning over table carelessly). Yes, I reckon it's somewhar thar.

Don Jose (aside). He is unused to menial labor. If I should be right
in my suspicions! if he really were Dona Jovita's secret lover! This
gallantry with the servants only a deceit! Bueno! I will watch him.
(Aloud.) Chocolate, Diego!

Sandy (aside). I wonder if the old fool reckons I'll pour it out. Well,
seein's he's the oldest. (Pours chocolate awkwardly, and spills it on
the table and DON JOSE.)

Don Jose (aside). He IS embarrassed. I am right. (Aloud.) Diego!

Sandy (leaning confidentially over DON JOSE'S chair). Well, old man!

Don Jose. Three months ago my daughter the Dona Jovita picked you up, a
wandering vagabond, in the streets of the Mission. (Aside.) He does not
seem ashamed. (Aloud.) She--she--ahem! The aguardiente, Diego.

Sandy (aside). That means the whiskey. It's wonderful how quick a man
learns Spanish. (Passes the bottle, fills DON JOSE'S glass, and then
his own. DON JOSE recoils in astonishment.) I looks toward ye, ole man.
(Tosses off liquor.)

Don Jose (aside). This familiarity! He IS a gentleman. Bueno! (Aloud.)
She was thrown from her horse; her skirt caught in the stirrup; she was
dragged; you saved her life. You--

Sandy (interrupting, confidentially drawing a chair to the table, and
seating himself). Look yer! I'll tell you all about it. It wasn't that
gal's fault, ole man. The hoss shied at me, lying drunk in a ditch, you
see; the hoss backed, the surcle broke; it warn't in human natur for
her to keep her seat, and that gal rides like an angel; but the mustang
throwed her. Well, I sorter got in the way o' thet hoss, and it stopped.
Hevin' bin the cause o' the hoss shyin', for I reckon I didn't look much
like an angel lyin' in that ditch, it was about the only squar thing for
me to waltz in and help the gal. Thar, thet's about the way the thing
pints. Now, don't you go and hold that agin her!

Don Jose. Well, well! She was grateful. She has a strange fondness
for you Americans; and at her solicitation I gave you--YOU, an unknown
vagrant--employment here as groom. You comprehend, Diego. I, Don Jose
Castro, proprietor of this rancho, with an hundred idle vaqueros on my
hands,--I made a place for you.

Sandy (meditatively). Umph.

Don Jose. You said you would reform. How have you kept your word? You
were drunk last Wednesday.

Sandy. Thet's so.

Don Jose. And again last Saturday.

Sandy (slowly). Look yer, ole man, don't ye be too hard on me: that was
the same old drunk.

Don Jose. I am in no mood for trifling. Hark ye, friend Diego. You have
seen, perhaps,--who has not?--that I am a fond, an indulgent father. But
even my consideration for my daughter's strange tastes and follies has
its limit. Your conduct is a disgrace to the rancho. You must go.

Sandy (meditatively). Well, I reckon, perhaps I'd better.

Don Jose (aside). His coolness is suspicious. Can it be that he expects
the girl will follow him? Mother of God! perhaps it has been already
planned between them. Good! Thank Heaven I can end it here. (Aloud.)
Diego!

Sandy. Old man.

Don Jose. For my daughter's sake, you understand,--for her sake,--I am
willing to try you once more. Hark ye! My daughter is young, foolish,
and romantic. I have reason to believe, from her conduct lately, that
she has contracted an intimacy with some Americano, and that in her
ignorance, her foolishness, she has allowed that man to believe that he
might aspire to her hand. Good! Now listen to me. You shall stay in her
service. You shall find out,--you are in her confidence,--you shall find
out this American, this adventurer, this lover if you please, of the
Dona Jovita my daughter; and you will tell him this,--you will tell
him that a union with him is impossible, forbidden; that the hour she
attempts it, without my consent, she is PENNILESS; that this estate,
this rancho, passes into the hands of the Holy Church, where even your
laws cannot reach it.

Sandy (leaning familiarly over the table). But suppose that he sees that
little bluff, and calls ye.

Don Jose. I do not comprehend you (coldly).

Sandy. Suppose he loves that gal, and will take her as she stands,
without a cent, or hide or hair of yer old cattle.

Don Jose (scornfully). Suppose--a miracle! Hark ye, Diego! It is now
five years since I have known your countrymen, these smart Americanos.
I have yet to know when love, sentiment, friendship, was worth any more
than a money value in your market.

Sandy (truculently and drunkenly). You hev, hev ye? Well, look yar, ole
man. Suppose I REFUSE. Suppose I'd rather go than act as a spy on that
young gal your darter! Suppose that--hic--allowin' she's my friend, I'd
rather starve in the gutters of the Mission than stand between her and
the man she fancies. Hey? Suppose I would--damn me! Suppose I'd see you
and your derned old rancho in--t'other place--hic--damn me. You hear me,
ole man! That's the kind o' man I am--damn me.

Don Jose (aside, rising contemptuously). It is as I suspected. Traitor.
Ingrate! Satisfied that his scheme has failed, he is ready to abandon
her. And this--THIS is the man for whom she has been ready to sacrifice
everything,--her home, her father! (Aloud, coldly.) Be it so, Diego: you
shall go.

Sandy (soberly and seriously, after a pause.) Well, I reckon I had
better. (Rising.) I've a few duds, old man, to put up. It won't take me
long. (Goes to L., and pauses.)

Don Jose (aside). Ah! he hesitates! He is changing his mind. (SANDY
returns slowly to table, pours out glass of liquor, nods to DON JOSE,
and drinks.) I looks towards ye, ole man. Adios!

[Exit SANDY.

Don Jose. His coolness is perfect. If these Americans are cayotes in
their advances, they are lions in retreat! Bueno! I begin to respect
him. But it will be just as well to set Concho to track him to the
Mission; and I will see that he leaves the rancho alone.

[Exit Jose.

Enter hurriedly JOVITA CASTRO, in riding habit, with whip.

So! Chiquita not yet saddled, and that spy Concho haunting the plains
for the last half-hour. What an air of mystery! Something awful,
something deliciously dreadful, has happened! Either my amiable drunkard
has forgotten to despatch Concho on his usual fool's errand, or he
is himself lying helpless in some ditch. Was there ever a girl so
persecuted? With a father wrapped in mystery, a lover nameless and
shrouded in the obscurity of some Olympian height, and her only
confidant and messenger a Bacchus instead of a Mercury! Heigh ho! And in
another hour Don Juan--he told me I might call him John--will be waiting
for me outside the convent wall! What if Diego fails me? To go there
alone would be madness! Who else would be as charmingly unconscious and
inattentive as this American vagabond! (Goes to L.) Ah, my saddle and
blanket hidden! He HAS been interrupted. Some one has been watching.
This freak of my father's means something. And to-night, of all nights,
the night that Oakhurst was to disclose himself, and tell me all! What
is to be done? Hark! (DIEGO, without, singing.)


    "Oh, here's your aguardiente,
         Drink it down!"


Jovita. It is Diego; and, Mother of God! drunk again!

Enter SANDY, carrying pack, intoxicated; staggers to centre, and,
observing JOVITA, takes off his hat respectfully.

Jovita (shaking him by the shoulders passionately). Diego! How dare you!
And at such a time!

Sandy (with drunken solemnity). Miss Jovita, did ye ever know me to be
drunk afore at such a time?

Jovita. No.

Sandy. Zachy so. It's abnormal. And it means--the game's up.

Jovita. I do not understand. For the love of God, Diego, be plain!

Sandy (solemnly and drunkenly). When I say your game's up, I mean the
old man knows it all. You're blowed upon. Hearken, miss. (Seriously
and soberly.) Your father knows all that I know; but, as it wasn't my
business to interfere with, I hev sorter helped along. He knows that you
meet a stranger, an American, in these rides with me.

Jovita (passionately). Ingrate! You have not dared to tell him! (Seizing
him by the collar, and threatening him with the horsewhip.)

Sandy (rising with half-drunken, half-sober solemnity). One minit, miss!
one minit! Don't ye! don't ye do that! Ef ye forget (and I don't blame
ye for it), ef ye forget that I'm a man, don't ye, don't ye forget
that you're a woman! Sit ye down, sit ye down, so! Now, ef ye'll kindly
remember, miss, I never saw this yer man, yer lover. Ef ye'll recollect,
miss, whenever you met him, I allers hung back and waited round in the
mission or in the fields beyond for ye, and allowed ye to hev your own
way, it bein' no business o' mine. Thar isn't a man on the ranch, who,
ef he'd had a mind to watch ye, wouldn't hev known more about yer lover
than I do.

Jovita (aside). He speaks truly. He always kept in the background. Even
Don Juan never knew that I had an attendant until I told him. (Aloud.)
I made a mistake, Diego. I was hasty. What am I to do? He is waiting for
me even now.

Sandy. Well (with drunken gravity), ef ye can't go to him, I reckon it's
the squar thing for him to come to ye.

Jovita. Recollect yourself, Diego. Be a man!

Sandy. Fash jus war I say. Let him be a man, and come to ye here. Let
him ride up to this ranch like a man, and call out to yer father that
he'll take ye jist as ye are, without the land. And if the old man
allows, rather than hev ye marry that stranger, he'll give this yer
place to the church, why, let him do it, and be damned.

Jovita (recoiling, aside). So! That is their plan. Don Jose has worked
on the fears or the cupidity of this drunken ingrate.

Sandy (with drunken submission). Ye was speaking to me, miss. Ef ye'll
take my advice,--a drunken man's advice, miss,--ye'll say to that lover
of yours, ef he's afeard to come for ye here, to take ye as ye stand, he
ain't no man for ye. And, ontil he does, ye'll do as the ole man says.
Fur ef I do say it, miss,--and thar ain't no love lost between us,--he's
a good father to ye. It ain't every day that a gal kin afford to swap a
father like that, as she DOES KNOW, fur the husband that she DON'T! He's
a proud old fool, miss; but to ye, to ye, he's clar grit all through.

Jovita (passionately, aside). Tricked, fooled, like a child! and through
the means of this treacherous, drunken tool. (Stamping her foot.) Ah!
we shall see! You are wise, you are wise, Don Jose; but your daughter
is not a novice, nor a helpless creature of the Holy Church.
(Passionately.) I'll--I'll become a Protestant to-morrow!

Sandy (unheeding her passion, and becoming more earnest and
self-possessed). Ef ye hed a father, miss, ez instead o' harkinin'
to your slightest wish, and surroundin' ye with luxury, hed made your
infancy a struggle for life among strangers, and your childhood a
disgrace and a temptation; ef he had left ye with no company but want,
with no companions but guilt, with no mother but suffering; ef he had
made your home, this home, so unhappy, so vile, so terrible, so awful,
that the crowded streets and gutters of a great city was something to
fly to for relief; ef he had made his presence, his very name,--your
name, miss, allowin' it was your father,--ef he had made that presence
so hateful, that name so infamous, that exile, that flyin' to furrin'
parts, that wanderin' among strange folks ez didn't know ye, was the
only way to make life endurable; and ef he'd given ye,--I mean this
good old man Don Jose, miss,--ef he'd given ye as part of yer heritage
a taint, a weakness in yer very blood, a fondness for a poison, a poison
that soothed ye like a vampire bat and sucked yer life-blood (seizing
her arm) ez it soothed ye; ef this curse that hung over ye dragged ye
down day by day, till hating him, loathing him, ye saw yerself day by
day becoming more and more like him, till ye knew that his fate was
yours, and yours his,--why then, Miss Jovita (rising with an hysterical,
drunken laugh), why then, I'd run away with ye myself,--I would, damn
me!

Jovita (who has been withdrawing from him scornfully). Well acted,
Diego. Don Jose should have seen his pupil. Trust me, my father will
reward you. (Aside.) And yet there were tears in his drunken eyes.
Bah! it is the liquor: he is no longer sane. And, either hypocrite or
imbecile, he is to be trusted no longer. But where and why is he going?
(Aloud.) You are leaving us, Diego.

Sandy (quietly). Well, the old man and me don't get on together.

Jovita (scornfully). Bueno! I see. Then you abandon me.

Sandy (quickly). To the old man, miss,--not the young one. (Walks to the
table, and begins to pour out liquor.)

Jovita (angrily). You would not dare to talk to me thus if John
Oakhurst--ah! (Checking herself.)

Sandy (drops glass on table, hurries to centre, and seizes DONA JOVITA).
Eh! Wot name did you say? (Looks at her amazed and bewildered.)

Jovita (terrified, aside). Mother of God! What have I done? Broken my
sacred pledge to keep his name secret. No! No! Diego did not hear me!
Surely this wretched drunkard does not know him. (Aloud.) Nothing. I
said nothing: I mentioned no name.

Sandy (still amazed, frightened, and bewildered, passing his hand over
his forehead slowly). Ye mentioned no name? Surely. I am wild, crazed.
Tell me, miss--ye didn't,--I know ye didn't, but I thought it sounded
like it,--ye didn't mention the name of--of--of--John Oakhurst?

Jovita (hurriedly). No, of course not! You terrify me, Diego. You are
wild.

Sandy (dropping her hand with a sigh of relief). No, no! In course
ye didn't. I was wild, miss, wild; this drink has confused me yer.
(Pointing to his head.) There are times when I hear that name,
miss,--times when I see his face. (Sadly.) But it's when I've took too
much--too much. I'll drink no more--no more!--to-night--to-night! (Drops
his head slowly in his hands.)

Jovita (looking at DIEGO--aside). Really, I'm feeling very
uncomfortable. I'd like to ask a question of this maniac. But nonsense!
Don Juan gave me to understand Oakhurst wasn't his real name; that is,
he intimated there was something dreadful and mysterious about it that
mustn't be told,--something that would frighten people. HOLY VIRGIN!
it has! Why, this reckless vagabond here is pale and agitated. Don Juan
shall explain this mystery to-night. But then, how shall I see him?
Ah, I have it. The night of the last festa, when I could not leave the
rancho, he begged me to show a light from the flat roof of the upper
corridor, that he might know I was thinking of him,--dear fellow! He
will linger to-night at the Mission; he will see the light; he will know
that I have not forgotten. He will approach the rancho; I shall manage
to slip away at midnight to the ruined Mission. I shall--ah, it is
my father! Holy Virgin, befriend me now with self-possession. (Stands
quietly at L., looking toward SANDY, who still remains buried in
thought, as)--

Enter DON JOSE; regards his daughter and DIEGO with a sarcastic smile.

Don Jose (aside). Bueno! It is as I expected,--an explanation, an
explosion, a lover's quarrel, an end to romance. From his looks I should
say she has been teaching the adventurer a lesson. Good! I could embrace
her. (Crosses to SANDY--aloud.) You still here!

Sandy (rising with a start). Yes! I--a--I was only taking leave of Miss
Jovita that hez bin kind to me. She's a good gal, ole man, and won't be
any the worse when I'm gone.--Good-by, Miss Jovita (extending his hand):
I wish ye luck.

Jovita (coldly). Adios, friend Diego. (Aside, hurriedly.) You will not
expose my secret?

Sandy (aside). It ain't in me, miss. (To DON JOSE, going.) Adios, ole
man. (Shouldering his pack.)

Don Jose. Adios, friend Diego. (Formally.) May good luck attend you!
(Aside.) You understand, on your word as--as--as--A GENTLEMAN!--you have
no further communication with this rancho, or aught that it contains.

Sandy (gravely). I hear ye, ole man. Adios. (Goes to gateway, but pauses
at table, and begins to fill a glass of aguardiente.)

Don Jose (aside, looking at his daughter). I could embrace her now. She
is truly a Castro. (Aloud to JOVITA.) Hark ye, little one! I have news
that will please you, and--who knows? perhaps break up the monotony of
the dull life of the rancho. To-night come to me two famous caballeros,
Americanos, you understand: they will be here soon, even now. Retire,
and make ready to receive them. [Exit JOVITA.

Don Jose (aside, looking at SANDY). He lingers. I shall not be satisfied
until Concho has seen him safely beyond the Mission wall.

Enter CONCHO.

Concho. Two caballeros have dismounted in the corral, and seek the honor
of Don Jose's presence.

Don Jose. Bueno! (Aside.) Follow that fellow beyond the Mission.
(Aloud.) Admit the strangers. Did they give their names?

Concho. They did, Don Jose,--Col. Culpepper Starbottle and the Don
Alexandro Morton.

Sandy (dropping glass of aguardiente, and staggering stupidly to the
centre, confronting DON JOSE and CONCHO, still holding bottle). Eh! Wot?
Wot name did you say? (Looks stupidly and amazedly at CONCHO and DON
JOSE, and then slowly passes his hand over his forehead. Then slowly
and apologetically.) I axes your pardon, Don Jose, and yours, sir (to
CONCHO), but I thought ye called me. No!--that ez--I mean--I mean--I'm
a little off color here (pointing to his head). I don't follow
suit--I--eh--eh! Oh!--ye'll pardon me, sir, but thar's names--perhaps
yer darter will remember that I was took a bit ago on a name--thar's
names sorter hangin' round me yer (pointing to his head), that I thinks
I hear--but bein' drunk--I hopes ye'll excoos me. Adios. (Staggers to
gateway, CONCHO following.)

Concho (aside). There is something more in this than Don Jose would have
known. I'll watch Diego, and keep an eye on Miss Jovita too.

Exit, following SANDY, who, in exit, jostles against COL. STARBOTTLE
entering, who stops and leans exhaustedly at the wall to get his breath;
following him closely, and oblivious of SANDY MORTON, ALEXANDER MORTON,
sen. Enter COL. STARBOTTLE and ALEXANDER MORTON, sen.


SCENE 2.--The Same.


Col. Starbottle (entering, to DON JOSE). Overlooking the
insult of--er--inebriated individual, whose menial position in
this--er--er--household precludes a demand for personal satisfaction,
sir, I believe I have the honor of addressing Don Jose Castro. Very
good, sir. Permit me, sir, to introduce myself as Col. Culpepper
Starbottle--demn me! the legal adviser of Mr. Alexander Morton,
sen., and I may add, sir, the friend of that gentleman, and as such,
sir--er--er--personally--personally responsible.

Alexander Morton (puritanically and lugubriously). As a God-fearing
man and forgiving Christian, Mr. Castro, I trust you will overlook
the habitual profanity of the erring but well-meaning man, who, by the
necessities of my situation, accompanies me. I am the person--a helpless
sinner--mentioned in the letters which I believe have preceded me. As
a professing member of the Cumberland Presbyterian Church, I have
ventured, in the interest of works rather than faith, to overlook the
plain doctrines of the church in claiming sympathy of a superstitious
Papist.

Starbottle (interrupting, aside to ALEXANDER MORTON). Ahem! ahem!
(Aloud to DON JOSE.) My friend's manner, sir, reminds me of--er--er--Ram
Bootgum Sing, first secretary of Turkish legation at Washington in '45;
most remarkable man--demn me--most remarkable--and warm personal friend.
Challenged Tod Robinson for putting him next to Hebrew banker at dinner,
with remark--demn me--that they were both believers in the profit!
he, he! Amusing, perhaps; irreverent, certainly. Fought with cimeters.
Second pass, Ram divided Tod in two pieces--fact, sir--just here
(pointing) in--er--er--regions of moral emotions. Upper half called to
me,--said to me warningly--last words--never forget it,--"Star,"--always
called me Star,--"Respect man's religious convictions." Legs dead;
emotion confined to upper part of body--pathetic picture. Ged, sir,
something to be remembered!

Don Jose (with grave Spanish courtesy). You are welcome, gentlemen, to
the rancho of the Blessed Fisherman. Your letters, with their honorable
report, are here. Believe me, senores, in your modesty you have
forgotten to mention your strongest claim to the hospitality of my
house,--the royal right of strangers.

Morton. Angels before this have been entertained as strangers, says
the Good Book; and that, I take it, is your authority for this
ceremoniousness which else were but lip-service and Papist airs. But
I am here in the performance of a duty, Mr. Castro,--the duty of a
Christian father. I am seeking a prodigal son. I am seeking him in his
wine-husks and among his harl--

Starbottle (interrupting). A single moment. (To DON JOSE.) Permit me
to--er--er--explain. As my friend Mr. Morton states, we are, in fact, at
present engaged in--er--er--quest--er--pilgrimage that possibly to
some, unless deterred by considerations of responsibility--personal
responsibility--sir--Ged, sir, might be looked upon as visionary,
enthusiastic, sentimental, fanatical. We are seeking a son, or, as my
friend tersely and scripturally expresses it--er--er--prodigal son.
I say scripturally, sir, and tersely, but not, you understand it,
literally, nor I may add, sir, legally. Ged, sir, as a precedent, I
admit we are wrong. To the best of my knowledge, sir, the--er--Prodigal
Son sought his own father. To be frank, sir,--and Ged, sir, if Culpepper
Starbottle has a fault, it is frankness, sir. As Nelse Buckthorne said
to me in Nashville, in '47, "You would infer, Col. Starbottle, that
I equivocate." I replied, "I do, sir; and permit me to add that
equivocation has all the guilt of a lie, with cowardice superadded." The
next morning at nine o'clock, Ged, sir, he gasped to me--he was lying on
the ground, hole through his left lung just here (illustrating with DON
JOSE'S coat),--he gasped, "If you have a merit, Star, above others, it
is frankness!" his last words, sir,--demn me.... To be frank, sir, years
ago, in the wild exuberance of youth, the son of this gentleman left
his--er--er--er--boyhood's home, owing to an innocent but natural
misunderstanding with the legal protector of his youth--

Morton (interrupting gravely and demurely). Driven from home by my own
sinful and then unregenerate hand--

Starbottle (quickly). One moment, a simple moment. We will not weary
you with--er--er--history, or the vagaries of youth. He--er--came to
California in '49. A year ago, touched by--er--er--parental emotion
and solicitude, my friend resolved to seek him here. Believing that
the--er--er--lawlessness of--er--er--untrammelled youth and boyish
inexperience might have led him into some trifling indiscretion, we
have sought him successively in hospitals, alms-houses, reformatories,
State's prisons, lunatic and inebriate asylums, and--er--er--even on
the monumental inscriptions of the--er--er--country churchyards. We
have thus far, I grieve to say, although acquiring much and valuable
information of a varied character and interest, as far as the direct
matter of our search,--we have been, I think I may say, unsuccessful.
Our search has been attended with the--er--disbursement of some capital
under my--er--er--direction, which, though large, represents quite
inadequately the--er--er--earnestness of our endeavors.

Enter MANUELA.

Manuela (to DON JOSE). The Dona Jovita is waiting to receive you.

Don Jose (to MORTON). You shall tell me further of your interesting
pilgrimage hereafter. At present my daughter awaits us to place this
humble roof at your disposal. I am a widower, Don Alexandro, like
yourself. When I say that, like you, I have an only child, and that
I love her, you will understand how earnest is my sympathy. This way,
gentlemen. (Leading to door in corridor, and awaiting them.)

Starbottle (aside). Umph! an interview with lovely woman
means--er--intoxication, but--er--er--no liquor. It's evident that the
Don doesn't drink. Eh! (Catches sight of table in corridor, and bottle.)
Oh, he does, but some absurd Spanish formality prevents his doing the
polite thing before dinner. (Aloud, to DON JOSE.) One moment, sir, one
moment. If you will--er--er--pardon the--er--seeming discourtesy,
for which I am, I admit--or--personally responsible, I will for a few
moments enjoy the--er--er--delicious air of the courtyard, and the
beauties of Nature as displayed in the--er--sunset. I will--er--rejoin
you and the--er--er--ladies a moment later.

Don Jose. The house is your own, senor: do as you will. This way, Don
Alexandro. [Exit, in door L., DON JOSE and MORTON, sen.

Starbottle. "Do as you will." Well, I don't understand Spanish ceremony,
but that's certainly good English. (Going to table.) Eh! (Smelling
decanter.) Robinson County whiskey! Umph! I have observed that
the spirit of American institutions, sir, are already penetrating
the--er--er--superstitions of--er--foreign and effete civilizations.
(Pours out glass of whiskey, and drinks; pours again, and observes
MANUELA watching him respectfully.) What the Devil is that girl looking
at? Eh! (Puts down glass.)

Manuela (aside). He is fierce and warlike. Mother of God! But he is not
so awful as that gray-haired caballero, who looks like a fasting St.
Anthony. And he loves aguardiente: he will pity poor Diego the more.
(Aloud.) Ahem! Senor. (Courtesies coquettishly.)

Col. Starbottle (aside). Oh, I see. Ged! not a bad-looking girl,--a
trifle dark, but Southern, and--er--tropical. Ged, Star, Star, this
won't do, sir; no, sir. The filial affections of Aeneas are not to be
sacrificed through the blandishments of--er--Dodo--I mean a Dido.

Manuela. O senor, you are kind, you are good. You are an Americano, one
of a great nation. You will feel sympathy for a poor young man,--a mere
muchacho,--one of your own race, who was a vaquero here, senor. He has
been sent away from us here disgraced, alone, hungry, perhaps penniless.
(Wipes her eyes.)

Col. Starbottle. The Devil! Another prodigal. (Aloud.) My dear, the case
you have just stated would appear to be the--er--er--normal condition
of the--er--youth of America. But why was he discharged? (Pouring out
liquor.)

Manuela (demurely glancing at the colonel). He was drunk, senor.

Starbottle (potently). Drunkenness, my child, which is--er--weakness in
the--er--er--gentleman, in the subordinate is a crime. What--er--excites
the social impulse and exhilarates the fancy of the--er--master of the
house, in the performance of his duty, renders the servant unfit
for his. Legally it is a breach of contract. I should give it as my
opinion,--for which I am personally responsible,--that your friend Diego
could not recover. Ged! (Aside.) I wonder if this scapegoat could be our
black sheep.

Manuela. But that was not all, senor. It was an excuse only. He was sent
away for helping our young lady to a cavalier. He was discharged because
he would not be a traitor to her. He was sent away because he was too
good, too honorable,--too-- (Bursts out crying.)

Starbottle (aside). Oh, the Devil! THIS is no Sandy Morton. (Coming
forward gravely.) I have never yet analyzed the--er--er--character
of the young gentleman I have the honor to assist in restoring to his
family and society; but judging--er--calmly--er--dispassionately, my
knowledge of his own father--from what the old gentleman must have been
in his unregenerate state, and knowing what he is now in his present
reformed Christian condition, I should say calmly and deliberately that
the son must be the most infernal and accomplished villain unhung. Ged,
I have a thought, an inspiration. (To MANUELA, tapping her under the
chin.) I see, my dear; a lover, ha, ha! Ah, you rogue! Well, well, we
will talk of this again. I will--er--er--interest myself in this Diego.
[Exit MANUELA.

Starbottle (solus). How would it do to get up a prodigal? Umph.
Something must be done soon: the old man grows languid in his search.
My position as a sinecure is--er--in peril. A prodigal ready made! But
could I get a scoundrel bad enough to satisfy the old man? Ged, that's
serious. Let me see: he admits that he is unable to recognize his own
son in face, features, manner, or speech. Good! If I could pick up some
rascal whose--er--irregularities didn't quite fill the bill, and could
say--Ged!--that he was reforming. Reforming! Ged, Star! That very
defect would show the hereditary taint, demn me! I must think of this
seriously. Ged, Star! the idea is--an inspiration of humanity and
virtue. Who knows? it might be the saving of the vagabond,--a crown of
glory to the old man's age. Inspiration, did I say? Ged, Star, it's a
DUTY,--a sacred, solemn duty, for which you are responsible,--personally
responsible.

Lights down half. Enter from corridor L., MORTON, DON JOSE, the DONA
JOVITA, and MANUELA.

Dona Jovita (stepping forward with exaggerated Spanish courtesy). A
thousand graces await your Excellency, Commander Don--Don--

Starbottle (bowing to the ground with equal delight and exaggerated
courtesy). Er--Coolpepero!

Dona Jovita. Don Culpepero! If we throw ourselves unasked at your
Excellency's feet (courtesy), if we appear unsought before the light of
your Excellency's eyes (courtesy), if we err in maidenly decorum in thus
seeking unbidden your Excellency's presence (courtesy), believe us, it
is the fear of some greater, some graver indecorum in our conduct that
has withdrawn your Excellency's person from us since you have graced our
roof with your company. We know, Senor Commander, how superior are the
charms of the American ladies. It is in no spirit of rivalry with them,
but to show--Mother of God!--that we are not absolutely ugly, that we
intrude upon your Excellency's solitude. (Aside.) I shall need the old
fool, and shall use him.

Col. Starbottle (who has been bowing and saluting with equal
extravagance, during this speech--aside). Ged! she IS beautiful!
(Aloud.) Permit me er--er--Dona Jovita, to correct--Ged, I must say
it, correct erroneous statements. The man who should--er--utter in my
presence remarks disparaging those--er--charms it is my privilege
to behold, I should hold responsible,--Ged! personally responsible.
You--er--remind me of er--incident, trifling perhaps, but pleasing,
Charleston in '52,--a reception at John C. Calhoun's. A lady, one of the
demnedest beautiful women you ever saw, said to me, "Star!"--she always
called me Star,--"you've avoided me, you have, Star! I fear you are no
longer my friend."--"Your friend, madam," I said. "No, I've avoided you
because I am your lover." Ged, Miss Jovita, a fact--demn me. Sensation.
Husband heard garbled report. He was old friend, but jealous, rash,
indiscreet. Fell at first fire--umph--January 5th. Lady--beautiful
woman--never forgave: went into convent. Sad affair. And all a
mistake--demn me,--all a mistake, through perhaps extravagant gallantry
and compliment. I lingered here, oblivious perhaps of--er--beauty, in
the enjoyment of Nature.

Dona Jovita. Is there enough for your Excellency to share with me,
since it must be my rival? See, the fog is clearing away: we shall have
moonlight. (DON JOSE and MORTON seat themselves at table.) Shall we not
let these venerable caballeros enjoy their confidences and experiences
together? (Aside.) Don Jose watches me like a fox, does not intend
to lose sight of me. How shall I show the light three times from the
courtyard roof? I have it! (Takes STARBOTTLE'S arm.) It is too pleasant
to withdraw. There is a view from the courtyard wall your Excellency
should see. Will you accompany me? The ascent is easy.

Starbottle (bowing). I will ascend, although, permit me to say, Dona
Jovita, it would be--er--impossible for me to be nearer--er--heaven,
than--er--at present.

Dona Jovita. FLATTERER! Come, you shall tell me about this sad lady who
died. Ah, Don Culpepero, let me hope all your experiences will not be so
fatal to us!

[Exeunt DONA JOVITA and STARBOTTLE.

Morton (aside). A froward daughter of Baal, and, if I mistake not,
even now concocting mischief for this foolish, indulgent, stiff-necked
father. (Aloud.) Your only daughter, I presume.

Don Jose. My darling, Don Alexandro. Motherless from her infancy. A
little wild, and inclined to gayety, but I hope not seeking for more
than these walls afford. I have checked her but seldom, Don Alexandro,
and then I did not let her see my hand on the rein that held her back. I
do not ask her confidence always: I only want her to know that when the
time comes it can be given to me without fear.

Morton. Umph!

Don Jose (leaning forward confidentially). To show that you have not
intrusted your confidence regarding your wayward son--whom may the
saints return to you!--to unsympathetic or inexperienced ears, I will
impart a secret. A few weeks ago I detected an innocent intimacy between
this foolish girl and a vagabond vaquero in my employ. You understand,
it was on her part romantic, visionary; on his, calculating, shrewd,
self-interested, for he expected to become my heir. I did not lock her
up. I did not tax her with it. I humored it. Today I satisfied the
lover that his investment was not profitable, that a marriage without my
consent entailed the loss of the property, and then left them together.
They parted in tears, think you, Don Alexandro? No, but mutually hating
each other. The romance was over. An American would have opposed the
girl, have driven her to secrecy, to an elopement perhaps. Eh?

Morton (scornfully). And you believe that they have abandoned their
plans?

Don Jose. I am sure--hush! she is here!

Enter, on roof of corridor, STARBOTTLE and JOVITA.

Col. Starbottle. Really, a superb landscape! An admirable view of
the--er--fog--rolling over the Mission Hills, the plains below, and
the--er--er--single figure of--er--motionless horseman--

Dona Jovita (quickly). Some belated vaquero. Do you smoke, Senor
Commander?

Starbottle. At times.

Dona Jovita. With me. I will light a cigarette for you: it is the
custom.

COL. STARBOTTLE draws match from his pocket, and is about to light, but
is stopped by DONA JOVITA.

Dona Jovita. Pardon, your Excellency, but we cannot endure your American
matches. There is a taper in the passage.

COL. STARBOTTLE brings taper: DONA JOVITA turns to light cigarette, but
manages to blow out candle.

Dona Jovita. I must try your gallantry again. That is once I have
failed. (Significantly.)

COL. STARBOTTLE relights candle, business, same results.

Dona Jovita. I am stupid and nervous to-night. I have failed twice.
(With emphasis.)

COL. STARBOTTLE repeats business with candle. DONA JOVITA lights
cigarette, hands it to the colonel.

Dona Jovita. Thrice, and I have succeeded. (Blows out candle.)

Col. Starbottle. A thousand thanks! There is a--er--er--light on the
plain.

Dona Jovita (hastily). It is the vaqueros returning. My father gives a
festa to peons in honor of your arrival. There will be a dance. You have
been patient, Senor Commander: you shall have my hand for a waltz.

Enter vaqueros, their wives and daughters. A dance, during which the
"sembi canca" is danced by COL. STARBOTTLE and DONA JOVITA. Business,
during which the bell of Mission Church, faintly illuminated beyond the
wall, strikes twelve. Dancers withdraw hurriedly, leaving alone MANUELA,
DONA JOVITA, COL. STARBOTTLE, DON JOSE, and CONCHO. CONCHO formally
hands keys to Don Jose.

Don Jose (delivering keys to MORTON with stately impressiveness). Take
them, Don Alexandro Morton, and with them all that they unlock for
bliss or bale. Take them, noble guest, and with them the homage of this
family,--to-night, Don Alexandro, your humble servants. Good-night,
gentlemen. May a thousand angels attend you, O Don Alexandro and Don
Culpepero!

Dona Jovita. Good-night, Don Alexandro. May your dreams to-night see all
your wishes fulfilled! Good-night, O Senor Commander. May she you dream
of be as happy as you!

Manuela and Concho (together). Good-night, O senores and illustrious
gentlemen! may the Blessed Fisherman watch over you! (Both parties
retreat into opposite corridors, bowing.)

MANUELA, CONCHO, MORTON, DON JOSE. JOVITA. STARBOTTLE.


SCENE 3.--The same. Stage darkened. Fog passing beyond wall outside, and
occasionally obscuring moonlit landscape beyond. Enter JOVITA softly,
from corridor L. Her face is partly hidden by Spanish mantilla.

Jovita. All quiet at last; and, thanks to much aguardiente, my warlike
admirer snores peacefully above. Yet I could swear I heard the old
Puritan's door creak as I descended! Pshaw! What matters! (Goes to
gateway, and tries gate.) Locked! Carramba! I see it now. Under the
pretext of reviving the old ceremony, Don Jose has locked the gates, and
placed me in the custody of his guest. Stay! There is a door leading to
the corral from the passage by Concho's room. Bueno! Don Jose shall see!
[Exit R.

Enter cautiously R. OLD MORTON.

Old Morton. I was not mistaken! It was the skirt of that Jezebel
daughter that whisked past my door a moment ago, and her figure that
flitted down that corridor. So! The lover driven out of the house at
four P. M., and at twelve o'clock at night the young lady trying the
gate secretly. This may be Spanish resignation and filial submission,
but it looks very like Yankee disobedience and forwardness. Perhaps it's
well that the keys are in my pocket. This fond confiding Papist may find
the heretic American father of some service. (Conceals himself behind
pillar of corridor.)

After a pause the head of JOHN OAKHURST appears over the wall of
corridor: he climbs up to roof of corridor, and descends very quietly
and deliberately to stage.

Oakhurst (dusting his clothing with his handkerchief). I never knew
before why these Spaniards covered their adobe walls with whitewash.
(Leans against pillar in shadow.)

Re-enter JOVITA, hastily.

Jovita. All is lost; the corral door is locked; the key is outside, and
Concho is gone,--gone where? Madre di Dios! to discover, perhaps to kill
him.

Oakhurst (approaching her). No.

Jovita. Juan! (Embracing him.) But how did you get here? This is
madness!

Oakhurst. As you did not come to the mission, I came to the rancho.
I found the gate locked--by the way, is not that a novelty here?--I
climbed the wall. But you, Miss Castro, you are trembling! Your little
hands are cold!

Jovita (glancing around). Nothing, nothing! But you are running a
terrible risk. At any moment we may be discovered.

Oakhurst. I understand you: it would be bad for the discoverer. Never
fear, I will be patient.

Jovita. But I feared that you might meet Concho.

Oakhurst. Concho--Concho--(meditatively). Let me see,--tall, dark, long
in the arm, weighs about one hundred and eighty, and active.

Jovita. Yes; tell me! You have met him?

Oakhurst. Possibly, possibly. Was he a friend of yours?

Jovita. No!

Oakhurst. That's better. Are his pursuits here sedentary, or active?

Jovita. He is my father's major-domo.

Oakhurst. I see: a sinecure. (Aside.) Well, if he has to lay up for a
week or two, the rancho won't suffer.

Jovita. Well?

Oakhurst. Well!

Jovita (passionately). There, having scaled the wall, at the risk of
being discovered--this is all you have to say! (Turning away.)

Oakhurst (quietly). Perhaps, Jovita (taking her hand with grave
earnestness), to a clandestine intimacy like ours there is but one end.
It is not merely elopement, not merely marriage, it is exposure! Sooner
or later you and I must face the eyes we now shun. What matters if
tonight or later?

Jovita (quickly). I am ready. It was you who--

Oakhurst. It was I who first demanded secrecy, but it was I who told you
when we last met that I would tell you why to-night.

Jovita. I am ready; but hear me, Juan, nothing can change my faith in
you!

Oakhurst (sadly). You know not what you say. Listen, my child. I am a
gambler. Not the man who lavishes his fortune at the gaming-table for
excitement's sake; not the fanatic who stakes his own earnings--perhaps
the confided earnings of others--on a single coup. No, he is the man who
loses,--whom the world deplores, pities, and forgives. I am the man who
wins--whom the world hates and despises.

Jovita. I do not understand you, Juan.

Oakhurst. So much the better, perhaps. But you must hear me. I make a
profession--an occupation more exacting, more wearying, more laborious,
than that of your meanest herdsman--of that which others make a
dissipation of the senses. And yet, Jovita, there is not the meanest
vaquero in this ranch, who, playing against me, winning or losing, is
not held to be my superior. I have no friends--only confederates. Even
the woman who dares to pity me must do it in secret.

Jovita. But you will abandon this dreadful trade. As the son of the
rich Don Jose, no one dare scorn you. My father will relent. I am his
heiress.

Oakhurst. No more, Jovita, no more. If I were the man who could purchase
the world's respect through a woman's weakness for him, I should not be
here to-night. I am not here to sue your father's daughter with hopes
of forgiveness, promises of reformation. Reformation, in a man like me,
means cowardice or self-interest. (OLD MORTON, becoming excited, leans
slowly out from the shadow of the pillar listening intently.) I am here
to take, by force if necessary, a gambler's wife,--the woman who will
share my fortunes, my disgrace, my losses; who is willing to leave her
old life of indulgence, of luxury, of respectability, for mine. You are
frightened, little dove: compose yourself (soothing her tenderly and
sadly); you are frightened at the cruel hawk who has chosen you for a
mate.

Old Morton (aside). God in heaven! This is like HIM! like me!--like me,
before the blessed Lord lifted me into regeneration. If it should be!
(Leans forward anxiously from pillar.)

Oakhurst (aside). Still silent! Poor dove, I can hear her foolish heart
flutter against mine. Another moment decides our fate. Another moment:
John Oakhurst and freedom, or Red Gulch and--she is moving. (To JOVITA.)
I am harsh, little one, and cold. Perhaps I have had much to make me so.
But when (with feeling) I first met you; when, lifting my eyes to the
church-porch, I saw your beautiful face; when, in sheer recklessness
and bravado, I raised my hat to you; when you--you, Jovita--lifted
your brave eyes to mine, and there, there in the sanctuary, returned
my salute,--the salutation of the gambler, the outcast, the
reprobate,--then, then I swore that you should be mine, if I tore you
from the sanctuary. Speak now, Jovita: if it was coquetry, speak now; I
forgive you: if it was sheer wantonness, speak now; I shall spare you:
but if--

Jovita (throwing herself in his arms). Love, Juan! I am yours, now
and forever. (Pause.) But you have not told me all. I will go with you
to-night--now. I leave behind me all,--my home, my father, my--(pause)
my name. You have forgotten, Juan, you have not told me what I change
THAT for: you have not told me YOURS.

OLD MORTON, in eager excitement, leans beyond shadow of pillar.

Oakhurst (embracing her tenderly, with a smile). If I have not told you
who I am, it was because, darling, it was more important that you should
know what I am. Now that you know that--why--(embarrassedly) I
have nothing more to tell. I did not wish you to repeat the name of
Oakhurst--because--(aside) how the Devil shall I tell her that Oakhurst
was my real name, after all, and that I only feared she might divulge
it?--(aloud) because--because--(determinedly) I doubted your ability
to keep a secret. My real name is--(looks up, and sees MORTON leaning
beyond pillar) is a secret. (Pause, in which OAKHURST slowly recovers
his coolness.) It will be given to the good priest who to-night joins
our fate forever, Jovita,--forever, in spite of calumny, opposition,
or SPIES! the padre whom we shall reach, if enough life remains in your
pulse and mine to clasp these hands together. (After a pause.) Are you
content?

Jovita. I am.

Oakhurst. Then there is not a moment to lose. Retire, and prepare
yourself for a journey. I will wait here.

Jovita. I am ready now.

Oakhurst (looking toward pillar). Pardon, my darling: there was a
bracelet--a mere trifle--I once gave you. It is not on your wrist. I
am a trifle superstitious, perhaps: it was my first gift. Bring it with
you. I will wait. Go!

[Exit JOVITA.

OAKHURST watches her exit, lounges indifferently toward gate; when
opposite pillar, suddenly seizes MORTON by the throat, and drags him
noiselessly to centre.

Oakhurst (hurriedly). One outcry,--a single word,--and it is your last.
I care not who YOU may be!--who I am,--you have heard enough to know,
at least, that you are in the grip of a desperate man. (Keys fall from
MORTON'S hand. OAKHURST seizes them.) Silence! on your life.

Morton (struggling). You would not dare! I command you--

Oakhurst (dragging him to gateway). Out you must go.

Morton. Stop, I command you. I never turned MY father out of doors!

Oakhurst (gazing at MORTON). It is an OLD man! I release you. Do as you
will, only remember that that girl is mine forever, that there is no
power on earth will keep me from her.

Morton. On conditions.

Oakhurst. Who are you that make conditions? You are not--her father?

Morton. No but I am YOURS! Alexander Morton, I charge you to hear me.

Oakhurst (starting in astonishment; aside). Sandy Morton, my lost
partner's father! This is fate.

Morton. You are astonished; but I thought so. Ay, you will hear me now!
I am your father, Alexander Morton, who drove you, a helpless boy, into
disgrace and misery. I know your shameless life: for twenty years it was
mine, and worse, until, by the grace of God, I reformed, as you shall.
I have stopped you in a disgraceful act. Your mother--God forgive
me!--left HER house, for MY arms, as wickedly, as wantonly, as
shamelessly--

Oakhurst. Stop, old man! Stop! Another word (seizing him), and I may
forget your years.

Morton. But not your blood. No, Alexander Morton, I have come thousands
of miles for one sacred purpose,--to save you; and I shall, with God's
will, do it now. Be it so, on one condition. You shall have this girl;
but lawfully, openly, with the sanction of Heaven and your parents.

Oakhurst (aside). I see a ray of hope. This is Sandy's father; the cold,
insensate brute, who drove him into exile, the one bitter memory of
his life. Sandy disappeared, irreclaimable, or living alone, hating
irrevocably the author of his misery; why should not I--

Morton (continuing). On one condition. Hear me, Alexander Morton. If
within a year, you, abandoning your evil practices, your wayward life,
seek to reform beneath my roof, I will make this proud Spanish Don glad
to accept you as the more than equal of his daughter.

Oakhurst (aside). It would be an easy deception. Sandy has given me
the details of his early life. At least, before the imposition was
discovered I shall be-- (Aloud.) I--I-- (Aside.) Perdition! SHE is
coming! There is a light moving in the upper chamber. Don Jose is
awakened. (Aloud.) I--I--accept.

Morton. It is well. Take these keys, open yonder gate, and fly! (As
OAKHURST hesitates.) Obey me. I will meet your sweetheart, and
explain all. You will come here at daylight in the morning, and claim
admittance, not as a vagabond, a housebreaker, but as my son. You
hesitate. Alexander Morton, I, your father, command you. Go!

OAKHURST goes to the gate, opens it, as the sound of DIEGO'S voice,
singing in the fog, comes faintly in.


     O yer's your Sandy Morton,
                Drink him down!
     O yer's your Sandy Morton,
                Drink him down!
     O yer's your Sandy Morton,
     For he's drunk, and goin' a-courtin'.
     O yer's your Sandy Morton,
                Drink him down!


OAKHURST recoils against gate, MORTON hesitates, as window in corridor
opens, and DON JOSE calls from upper corridor.

Don Jose. Concho! (Pause.) 'Tis that vagabond Diego, lost his way in the
fog. Strange that Concho should have overlooked him. I will descend.

Morton (to OAKHURST). Do you hear?

Exit OAKHURST through gateway. MORTON closes gate, and returns to
centre. Enter JOVITA hurriedly.

Jovita. I have it here. Quick! there is a light in Don Jose's chamber;
my father is coming down. (Sees MORTON, and screams.)

Morton (seizing her.) Hush! for your own sake; for HIS; control
yourself. He is gone, but he will return. (To JOVITA, still struggling.)
Hush, I beg, Miss Jovita. I beg, I command you, my daughter. Hush!

Jovita (whispering). His voice has changed. What does this mean?
(Aloud.) Where has he gone? and why are YOU here?

Morton (slowly and seriously). He has left me here to answer the
unanswered question you asked him. (Enter Don Jose and Col. STARBOTTLE,
R. and L.) I am here to tell you that I am his father, and that he is
Alexander Morton.

TABLEAUX.

Curtain.

END OF ACT I.



ACT II.


SCENE 1.--Red Gulch. Canyon of river, and distant view of Sierras,
snow-ravined. Schoolhouse of logs in right middle distance. Ledge of
rocks in centre. On steps of schoolhouse two large bunches of flowers.
Enter STARBOTTLE, slowly climbing rocks L., panting and exhausted.
Seats himself on rock, foreground, and wipes his face with his
pocket-handkerchief.


Starbottle. This is evidently the er--locality. Here are the--er--groves
of Academus--the heights of er--Ida! I should say that the unwillingness
which the--er--divine Shakespeare points out in the--er--"whining
schoolboy" is intensified in--er--climbing this height, and
the--er--alacrity of his departure must be in exact ratio to his
gravitation. Good idea. Ged! say it to schoolma'am. Wonder what she's
like? Humph! the usual thin, weazened, hatchet-faced Yankee spinster,
with an indecent familiarity with Webster's Dictionary! And this is the
woman, Star, you're expected to discover, and bring back to affluence
and plenty. This is the new fanaticism of Mr. Alexander Morton, sen.
Ged! not satisfied with dragging his prodigal son out of merited
obscurity, this miserable old lunatic commissions ME to hunt up another
of his abused relatives; some forty-fifth cousin, whose mother he
had frozen, beaten, or starved to death! And all this to please his
prodigal! Ged! if that prodigal hadn't presented himself that morning,
I'd have picked up--er--some--er--reduced gentleman--Ged, that knew
how to spend the old man's money to better advantage. (Musing.) If this
schoolmistress were barely good-looking, Star,--and she's sure to
have fifty thousand from the old man,--Ged, you might get even with
Alexander, sen., for betrothing his prodigal to Dona Jovita, in spite of
the--er--evident preference that the girl showed for you. Capital idea!
If she's not positively hideous I'll do it! Ged! I'll reconnoitre
first! (Musing.) I could stand one eye; yes--er--single eye would not
be positively objectionable in the--er--present experiments of
science toward the--er--the substitution of glass. Red hair, Star,
is--er--Venetian,--the beauty of Giorgione. (Goes up to schoolhouse
window, and looks in.) Too early! Seven empty benches; seven desks
splashed with ink. The--er--rostrum of the awful Minerva empty,
but--er--adorned with flowers, nosegays--demn me! And here, here
on the--er--very threshold (looking down), floral tributes.
The--er--conceit of these New England schoolma'ams, and
their--er--evident Jesuitical influence over the young, is fraught,
sir, fraught with--er--darkly political significance. Eh, Ged! there's
a caricature on the blackboard. (Laughing.) Ha, ha! Absurd chalk outline
of ridiculous fat person. Evidently the schoolma'am's admirer. Ged!
immensely funny! Ah! boys will be boys. Like you, Star, just like
you,--always up to tricks like that. A sentence scrawled below the
figure seems to be--er--explanation. Hem! (Takes out eyeglass.) Let's
see (reading.) "This is old"--old--er--old--demme, sir!--"Starbottle!"
This is infamous. I haven't been forty-eight hours in the place, and
to my certain knowledge haven't spoken to a child. Ged, sir, it's
the--er--posting of a libel! The woman, the--er--female, who permits
this kind of thing, should be made responsible--er--personally
responsible. Eh, hush! What have we here? (Retires to ledge of rocks.)

Enter MISS MARY L., reading letter.

Miss Mary. Strange! Is it all a dream? No! here are the familiar rocks,
the distant snow-peaks, the schoolhouse, the spring below. An hour ago
I was the poor schoolmistress of Red Gulch, with no ambition nor hope
beyond this mountain wall; and now--oh, it must be a dream! But here
is the letter. Certainly this is no delusion: it is too plain, formal,
business-like. (Reads.)


MY DEAR COUSIN--I address the only surviving child of my cousin Mary
and her husband John Morris, both deceased. It is my duty as a Christian
relative to provide you with a home--to share with you that wealth and
those blessings that a kind providence has vouchsafed me. I am aware
that my conduct to your father and mother, while in my sinful and
unregenerate state, is no warrantee for my present promise; but my
legal adviser, Col. Starbottle, who is empowered to treat with you, will
assure you of the sincerity of my intention, and my legal ability to
perform it. He will conduct you to my house; you will share its roof
with me and my prodigal son Alexander, now by the grace of God restored,
and mindful of the error of his ways. I enclose a draft for one thousand
dollars: if you require more, draw upon me for the same.

Your cousin,

ALEXANDER MORTON, SEN.


My mother's cousin--so! Cousin Alexander! a rich man, and reunited
to the son he drove into shameful exile. Well! we will see this
confidential lawyer; and until then--until then--why, we are the
schoolmistress of Red Gulch, and responsible for its youthful prodigals.
(Going to schoolhouse door.)

Miss Mary (stopping to examine flowers). Poor, poor Sandy! Another
offering, and, as he fondly believes, unknown and anonymous! As if he
were not visible in every petal and leaf! The mariposa blossom of the
plain. The snowflower I longed for, from those cool snowdrifts beyond
the ridge. And I really believe he was sober when he arranged them. Poor
fellow! I begin to think that the dissipated portion of this community
are the most interesting. Ah! some one behind the rock,--Sandy, I'll
wager. No! a stranger!

Col. Starbottle (aside, and advancing). If I could make her think I
left those flowers! (Aloud.) When I state that--er--I am
perhaps--er--stranger--

Miss Mary (interrupting him coldly). You explain, sir, your appearance
on a spot which the rude courtesy of even this rude miner's camp has
preserved from intrusion.

Starbottle (slightly abashed, but recovering himself). Yes--Ged!--that
is, I--er--saw you admiring--er--tribute--er--humble tribute of
flowers. I am myself passionately devoted to flowers. Ged! I've
spent hours--in--er--bending over the--er--graceful sunflower,
in--er--plucking the timid violet from the overhanging but reluctant
bough, in collecting the--er--er--fauna--I mean the--er--flora--of
this--er--district.

Miss Mary (who has been regarding him intently). Permit me to leave you
in uninterrupted admiration of them. (Handing him flowers.) You
will have ample time in your journey down the gulch to indulge your
curiosity!

Hands STARBOTTLE flowers, enters schoolhouse, and quietly closes door on
STARBOTTLE as SANDY MORTON enters cautiously and sheepishly from left.
SANDY stops in astonishment on observing STARBOTTLE, and remains by wing
left.

Starbottle (smelling flowers, and not noticing MISS MARY'S absence).
Beautiful--er--exquisite. (Looking up at closed door.) Ged! Most
extraordinary disappearance! (Looks around, and discovers SANDY;
examines him for a moment through his eyeglass, and then, after a pause,
inflates his chest, turns his back on SANDY, and advances to schoolhouse
door. SANDY comes quickly, and, as STARBOTTLE raises his cane to rap on
door, seizes his arm. Both men, regarding each other fixedly, holding
each other, retreat slowly and cautiously to centre. Then STARBOTTLE
disengages his arm.)

Sandy (embarrassedly but determinedly). Look yer, stranger. By the rules
of this camp, this place is sacred to the schoolma'am and her children.

Starbottle (with lofty severity). It is! Then--er--permit me to ask,
sir, what YOU are doing here.

Sandy (embarrassed, and dropping his head in confusion). I was--passing.
There is no school to-day.

Starbottle. Then, sir, Ged! permit me to--er--DEMAND--DEMAND, sir--an
apology. You have laid, sir, your hand upon my person--demn me! Not
the first time, sir, either; for, if I am not mistaken, you are
the--er--inebriated menial, sir, who two months ago jostled me,
sir,--demn me,--as I entered the rancho of my friend Don Jose Castro.

Sandy (starting, aside). Don Jose! (Aloud.) Hush, hush! She will hear
you. No--that is--(stops, confused and embarrassed. Aside.) She will
hear of my disgrace. He will tell her the whole story.

Starbottle. I shall await your apology one hour. At the end of that
time, if it is not forthcoming, I shall--er--er--waive your menial
antecedents, and expect the--er--satisfaction of a gentleman.
Good-morning, sir. (Turns to schoolhouse.)

Sandy. No, no: you shall not go!

Starbottle. Who will prevent me?

Sandy (grappling him). I will. (Appealingly.) Look yer, stranger, don't
provoke me, I, a desperate man, desperate and crazed with drink,--don't
ye, don't ye do it! For God's sake, take your hands off me! Ye don't
know what ye do. Ah! (Wildly, holding STARBOTTLE firmly, and forcing him
backward to precipice beyond ledge of rocks.) Hear me. Three years ago,
in a moment like this, I dragged a man--my friend--to this precipice.
I--I--no! no!--don't anger me now! (Sandy's grip on STARBOTTLE relaxes
slightly, and his head droops.)

Starbottle (coolly). Permit me to remark, sir, that any reminiscence of
your--er--friend--or any other man is--er--at this moment, irrelevant
and impertinent. Permit me to point out the--er--fact, sir, that your
hand is pressing heavily, demned heavily, on my shoulder.

Sandy (fiercely). You shall not go!

Starbottle (fiercely). Shall not?

Struggle. STARBOTTLE draws derringer from his breast-pocket, and SANDY
seizes his arm. In this position both parties struggle to ledge of
rocks, and COL. STARBOTTLE is forced partly over.

Miss Mary (opening schoolhouse door). I thought I heard voices. (Looking
toward ledge of rocks, where COL. STARBOTTLE and SANDY are partly hidden
by trees. Both men relax grasp of each other at MISS MARY'S voice.)

Col. Starbottle (aloud and with voice slightly raised, to SANDY).
By--er--leaning over this way a moment, a single moment, you
will--er--perceive the trail I speak of. It follows the canyon to the
right. It will bring you to--er--the settlement in an hour. (To
MISS MARY, as if observing her for the first time.) I believe I
am--er--right; but, being--er--more familiar with the locality, you can
direct the gentleman better.

SANDY slowly sinks on his knees beside rock, with his face averted
from schoolhouse, as COL. STARBOTTLE disengages himself, and advances
jauntily and gallantly to schoolhouse.

Col. Starbottle. In--er--er--showing the stranger the--er--way, I
perhaps interrupted our interview. The--er--observances of--er--civility
and humanity must not be foregone, even for--er--the ladies.
I--er--believe I address Miss Mary Morris. When I--er--state that my
name is Col. Starbottle, charged on mission of--er--delicate nature, I
believe I--er--explain MY intrusion.

MISS MARY bows, and motions to schoolhouse door; COL. STARBOTTLE, bowing
deeply, enters; but MISS MARY remains standing by door, looking toward
trees that hide SANDY.

Miss Mary (aside). I am sure it was Sandy's voice! But why does he
conceal himself?

Sandy (aside, rising slowly to his feet, with his back to schoolhouse
door). Even this conceited bully overcomes me, and shames me with his
readiness and tact. He was quick to spare her--a stranger--the spectacle
of two angry men. I--I--must needs wrangle before her very door! Well,
well! better out of her sight forever, than an object of pity or terror.
[Exit slowly, and with downcast eyes, right.

Miss Mary (watching the trail). It WAS Sandy! and this concealment means
something more than bashfulness. Perhaps the stranger can explain.

[Enters schoolhouse, and closes door.


SCENE 2.--The same. Enter CONCHO, lame, cautiously, from R. Pauses at
R., and then beckons to HOP SING, who follows R.

Concho (impatiently). Well! you saw him?

Hop Sing. Me see him.

Concho. And you recognized him?

Hop Sing. No shabe likoquize.

Concho (furiously). You knew him, eh? Carramba! You KNEW him.

Hop Sing (slowly and sententiously). Me shabe man you callee Diego.
Me shabbee Led Gulchee call Sandy. Me shabbee man Poker Flat callee
Alexandlee Molton. Allee same, John! Allee same!

Concho (rubbing his hands). Bueno! Good John! good John! And you knew he
was called Alexander Morton? And go on--good John--go on!

Hop Sing. Me plentee washee shirtee--Melican man Poker Flat. Me plentee
washee shirt Alexandlee Molton. Always litee, litee on shirt allee time.
(Pointing to tail of his blouse, and imitating writing with finger.)
Alexandlee Molton. Melican man tellee me--shirt say Alexandlee
Molton--shabbee?

Concho. Bueno! Excellent John. Good John. His linen marked Alexander
Morton. The proofs are gathering! (crosses to C.)--the letter I found in
his pack, addressed to Alexander Morton, Poker Flat, which first put me
on his track; the story of his wife's infidelity, and her flight with
his partner to red Gulch, the quarrel and fight that separated them, his
flight to San Jose, his wanderings to the mission of San Carmel, to the
rancho of the Holy Fisherman. The record is complete!

Hop Sing. Alexandlee Molton--

Concho (hurriedly returning to HOP SING). Yes! good John; yes, good
John--go on. Alexander Morton--

Hop Sing. Alexandlee Molton. Me washee shirt, Alexandlee Molton; he no
pay washee. Me washee flowty dozen hep--four bittie dozen--twenty dollar
hep. Alexandlee Molton no payee. He say, "Go to hellee!" You pay me
(extending his hand).

Concho. Car--! (checking himself). Poco tiempo, John! In good time,
John. Forty dollar--yes. Fifty dollar! Tomorrow, John.

Hop Sing. Me no likee "to-mollow!" Me no likee "nex time, John!"
Allee time Melican man say, "Chalkee up, John," "No smallee change,
John,"--umph. Plenty foolee me!

Concho. You shall have your money, John; but go now--you comprehend.
Carramba! go! (Pushes HOP SING to wing.)

Hop Sing (expostulating). Flowty dozen, hep, John! twenty dollar, John.
Sabe. Flowty--twenty--(gesticulating with fingers).

[Exit HOP SING, pushed off by CONCHO.

Concho. The pagan dolt! But he is important. Ah, if he were wiser,
I should not rid myself of him so quickly! And now for the
schoolmistress,--the sweetheart of Sandy. If these men have not lied,
he is in love with her; and, if he is, he has told her his secret before
now; and she will be swift to urge him to his rights. If he has not told
her--umph! (laughing) it will not be a DAY--an HOUR--before she will
find out if her lover is Alexander Morton, the rich man's son, or
"Sandy," the unknown vagabond. Eh, friend Sandy! It was a woman that
locked up your secret: it shall be a woman, Madre di Dios! who shall
unlock it. Ha! (Goes to door of schoolhouse as door opens, and appears
COL. STARBOTTLE.)

Concho (aside). A thousand devils! the lawyer of the old man Morton.
(Aloud.) Pardon, pardon! I am a stranger. I have lost my way on the
mountain. I am seeking a trail. Senor, pardon!

Starbottle (aside). Another man seeking the road! Ged, I believe he's
lying too. (Aloud.) It is before you, sir, DOWN,--down the mountain.

Concho. A thousand thanks, senor. (Aside.) Perdition catch him! (Aloud.)
Thanks, senor. [Exit R.

Starbottle. Ged, I've seen that face before. Ged, it's Castro's
major-domo. Demn me, but I believe all his domestics have fallen in love
with the pretty schoolma'am.

Enter MISS MARY from schoolhouse.

Miss Mary (slowly refolding letter). You are aware, then, of the
contents of this note; and you are the friend of Alexander Morton, sen.?

Col. Starbottle. Permit me a moment, a single moment,
to--er--er--explain. I am Mr. Morton's legal adviser. There
is--er--sense of--er--responsibility,--er--personal responsibility,
about the term "friend," that at the--er--er--present moment I am
not--er--prepared to assume. The substance of the letter is before you.
I am here to--er--express its spirit. I am here (with great
gallantry) to express the--er--yearnings of cousinly affection. I
am aware--er--that OUR conduct,--if I may use the--er--the plural of
advocacy,--I am aware that--er--OUR conduct has not in the past years
been of--er--er--exemplary character. I am aware that the--er--death
of our lamented cousin, your sainted mother, was--er--hastened--I
may--er--say--pre--cip--itated--by our--er--indiscretion But we are
hereto--er--confess judgment--with--er--er--costs.

Miss Mary (interrupting). In other words, your client, my cousin, having
ruined my father, having turned his own widowed relation out of doors,
and sent me, her daughter, among strangers to earn her bread; having
seen my mother sink and die in her struggle to keep her family from
want,--this man now seeks to condone his offences--pardon me, sir, if I
use your own legal phraseology--by offering me a home; by giving me part
of his ill-gotten wealth, the association of his own hypocritical self,
and the company of his shameless, profligate son--

Starbottle (interrupting). A moment, Miss Morris,--a single moment!
The epithets you have used, the--er--vigorous characterization of
our--er--conduct, is--er--within the--er--strict rules of legal
advocacy, correct. We are--er--rascals! we are--er--scoundrels! we
are--er--well, I am not--er--prepared to say that we are not--er--demn
me--hypocrites! But the young man you speak of--our son, whose past
life (speaking as Col. Starbottle) no one more sincerely deprecates than
myself,--that young man has reformed; has been for the past few months
a miracle of sobriety, decorum, and industry; has taken, thanks to
the example of--er--friends, a position of integrity in his father's
business, of filial obedience in his father's household; is, in short, a
paragon; and, demn me, I doubt if he's his father's son.

Miss Mary. Enough, sir! You are waiting for my answer. There is no
reason why it should not be as precise, as brief, and as formal as your
message. Go to my cousin; say that you saw the person he claims as
his relation; say that you found her, a poor schoolmistress, in a rude
mining camp, dependent for her bread on the scant earnings of already
impoverished men, dependent for her honor on the rude chivalry of
outcasts and vagabonds; and say that then and there she repudiated your
kinship, and respectfully declined your invitation.

Starbottle (aside). Ged! Star! this is the--er--female of your species!
This is the woman--the--er--one woman--for whom you are responsible,
sir!--personally responsible!

Miss Mary (coldly). You have my answer, sir.

Col. Starbottle. Permit me--er--single moment,--a single moment!
Between the er--present moment, and that of my departure--there
is an--er--interval of twelve hours. May I, at the close of that
interval--again present myself--without prejudice, for your final
answer?

Miss Mary (indifferently). As you will, sir. I shall be here.

Col. Starbottle. Permit me. (Takes her hand gallantly.) Your conduct
and manner, Miss Morris, remind me--er--singularly--of--er beautiful
creature--one of the--er--first families. (Observing MISS MARY regarding
him amusedly, becomes embarrassed.) That is--er--I mean--er--er--good
morning, Miss Morris! (Passes by schoolhouse door, retreating and
bowing, and picks up flowers from door-step.) Good morning!

Miss Mary. Excuse me, Col. Starbottle (with winning politeness), but
I fear I must rob you of those flowers. I recognize them now as the
offering of one of my pupils. I fear I must revoke my gift (taking
flowers from astonished colonel's hand), all except a single one for
your buttonhole. Have you any choice, or shall I (archly) choose for
you? Then it shall be this. (Begins to place flowers in buttonhole,
COL. STARBOTTLE exhibiting extravagant gratitude in dumb show. Business
prolonged through MISS MARY's speech.) If I am not wrong, colonel, the
gentleman to whom you so kindly pointed out the road this morning was
not a stranger to you. Ah! I am right. There, one moment,--a sprig of
green, a single leaf, would set off the pink nicely. Here he is known
only as "Sandy": you know the absurd habits of this camp. Of course he
has another name. There! (releasing the colonel) it is much prettier
now.

Col. Starbottle. Ged, madam! The rarest exotic--the Victoria Regina--is
not as--er--graceful--er--tribute!

Miss Mary. And yet you refuse to satisfy my curiosity?

Col. Starbottle (with great embarrassment, which at last resolves itself
into increased dignity of manner). What you ask is--er--er--impossible!
You are right: the--er--gentleman you allude to is known to me
under--er--er--another name. But honor--Miss Morris, honor!--seals the
lips of Col. Starbottle. (Aside.) If she should know he was a menial!
No. The position of the man you have challenged, Star, must be equal to
your own. (Aloud.) Anything, Miss Morris, but--er--that!

Miss Mary (smiling). Be it so. Adios, Col. Starbottle.

Col. Starbottle (gallantly). Au revoir, Miss Morris. [Exit,
impressively, L.

Miss Mary. So! Sandy conceals another name, which he withholds from
Red Gulch. Well! Pshaw! What is that to me? The camp is made up of
refugees,--men who perhaps have good reason to hide a name that may
be infamous, the name that would publish a crime. Nonsense! Crime and
Sandy! No, shame and guilt do not hide themselves in those honest but
occasionally somewhat bloodshot eyes. Besides, goodness knows! the poor
fellow's weakness is palpable enough. No, that is not the reason. It
is no guilt that keeps his name hidden,--at least, not his. (Seating
herself, and arranging flowers in her lap.) Poor Sandy! he must have
climbed the eastern summit to get this. See, the rosy sunrise still
lingers in its very petals; the dew is fresh upon it. Dear little
mountain baby! I really believe that fellow got up before daylight, to
climb that giddy height and secure its virgin freshness. And to think,
in a moment of spite, I'd have given it to that bombastic warrior!
(Pause.) That was a fine offer you refused just now, Miss Mary. Think of
it: a home of luxury, a position of assured respect and homage; the life
I once led, with all its difficulties smoothed away, its uncertainty
dispelled,--think of it! My poor mother's dream fulfilled,--I, her
daughter, the mistress of affluence, the queen of social power! What
a temptation! Ah, Miss Mary, WAS it a temptation? Was there nothing
in your free life here that stiffened your courage, that steeled the
adamant of your refusal? or was it only the memory of your mother's
wrongs? Luxury and wealth! Could you command a dwelling more charming
than this? Position and respect! Is not the awful admiration of these
lawless men more fascinating than the perilous flattery of gentlemen
like Col. Starbottle? is not the devotion of these outcasts more
complimentary than the lip-service of perfumed gallantry? (Pause.)
It's very odd he doesn't come. I wonder if that conceited old fool said
anything to him. (Rises, and then seats herself, smiling.) He HAS COME.
He is dodging in and out of the manganita bushes below the spring. I
suppose he imagines my visitor still here. The bashful fool! If anybody
should see him, it would be enough to make a petty scandal! I'll give
him a talking-to. (Pause.) I wonder if the ridiculous fool has gone
to sleep in those bushes. (Rises.) Well, let him: it will help him to
recover his senses from last night's dissipation; and you, Miss Mary,
it is high time you were preparing the lessons for to-morrow. (Goes
to schoolhouse, enters door, and slams it behind her; after a moment
reappears with empty bucket.) Of course there's no water, and I am dying
of thirst. (Goes slowly to left, and pauses embarrassedly and bashfully,
presently laughs,--then suddenly frowns, and assumes an appearance of
indignation.) Miss Mary Morris, have you become such an egregious fool
that you dare not satisfy the ordinary cravings of human nature,
just because an idle, dissipated, bashful blockhead--nonsense! [Exit,
brandishing pail.


SCENE 3.--The Same.

(A pause. SANDY'S voice, without.) This way, miss: the trail is easier.

(MISS MARY'S voice, without.) Never mind me; look after the bucket.

Enter SANDY, carrying bucket with water, followed by MISS MARY. SANDY
sets bucket down.

Miss Mary. There, you've spilt half of it. If it had been whiskey, you'd
have been more careful.

Sandy (submissively). Yes, miss.

Miss Mary (aside). "Yes, miss!" The man will drive me crazy with his
saccharine imbecility. (Aloud.) I believe you would assent to anything,
even if I said you were--an impostor!

Sandy (amazedly). An impostor, Miss Mary?

Miss Mary. Well, I don't know what other term you use in Red Gulch to
express a man who conceals his real name under another.

Sandy (embarrassed, but facing MISS MARY). Has anybody been tellin' ye I
was an impostor, miss? Has thet derned old fool that I saw ye with--

Miss Mary. "That old fool," as you call him, was too honorable a
gentleman to disclose your secret, and too loyal a friend to traduce
you by an epithet. Fear nothing, Mr. "Sandy": if you have limited your
confidence to ONE friend, it has not been misplaced. But, dear me, don't
think I wish to penetrate your secret. No. The little I learned was
accidental. Besides, his business was with me: perhaps, as his friend,
you already know it.

Sandy (meekly). Perhaps, miss, he was too honorable a gentleman to
disclose YOUR secret. His business was with me.

Miss Mary (aside). He has taken a leaf out of my book! He is not so
stupid, after all. (Aloud.) I have no secret. Col. Starbottle came here
to make me an offer.

Sandy (recoiling). An offer!

Miss Mary. Of a home and independence. (Aside.) Poor fellow! how pale he
looks! (Aloud.) Well, you see, I am more trustful than you. I will tell
you MY secret; and you shall aid me with your counsel. (They sit on
ledge of rocks.) Listen! My mother had a cousin once,--a cousin cruel,
cowardly, selfish, and dissolute. She loved him, as women are apt to
love such men,--loved him so that she beguiled her own husband to trust
his fortunes in the hands of this wretched profligate. The husband
was ruined, disgraced. The wife sought her cousin for help for her
necessities. He met her with insult, and proposed that she should fly
with him.

Sandy. One moment, miss: it wasn't his pardner--his pardner's wife--eh?

Miss Mary (impatiently). It was the helpless wife of his own blood,
I tell you. The husband died broken-hearted. The wife, my mother,
struggled in poverty, under the shadow of a proud name, to give me an
education, and died while I was still a girl. To-day this cousin,--this
more than murderer of my parents,--old, rich, self-satisfied, REFORMED,
invites me, by virtue of that kinship he violated and despised, to his
home, his wealth, his--his family roof-tree! The man you saw was his
agent.

Sandy. And you--

Miss Mary. Refused.

Sandy (passing his hand over his forehead). You did wrong, Miss Mary.

Miss Mary. Wrong, sir? (Rising.)

Sandy (humbly but firmly). Sit ye down, Miss Mary. It ain't for ye to
throw your bright young life away yer in this place. It ain't for such
as ye to soil your fair young hands by raking in the ashes to stir up
the dead embers of a family wrong. It ain't for ye--ye'll pardon me,
Miss Mary, for sayin' it--it ain't for ye to allow when it's TOO LATE
fur a man to reform, or to go back of his reformation. Don't ye do it,
miss, fur God's sake,--don't ye do it! Harkin, Miss Mary. If ye'll take
my advice--a fool's advice, maybe--ye'll go. And when I tell ye that
that advice, if ye take it, will take the sunshine out of these
hills, the color off them trees, the freshness outer them flowers, the
heart's-blood outer me,--ye'll know that I ain't thinkin' o' myself, but
of ye. And I wouldn't say this much to ye, Miss Mary; but you're goin'
away. There's a flower, miss, you're wearin' in your bosom,--a flower I
picked at daybreak this morning, five miles away in the snow. The wind
was blowing chill around it, so that my hands that dug for it were stiff
and cold; but the roots were warm, Miss Mary, as they are now in your
bosom. Ye'll keep that flower, Miss Mary, in remembrance of my love for
ye, that kept warm and blossomed through the snow. And, don't start,
Miss Mary,--for ye'll leave behind ye, as I did, the snow and rocks
through which it bloomed. I axes your parding, miss: I'm hurtin' yer
feelin's, sure.

Miss Mary (rising with agitation). Nothing,--nothing; but climbing
these stupid rocks has made me giddy: that's all. Your arm. (To SANDY
impatiently). Can't you give me your arm? (SANDY supports MISS MARY
awkwardly toward schoolhouse. At door MISS MARY pauses.) But if
reformation is so easy, so acceptable, why have you not profited by
it? Why have you not reformed? Why have I found you here, a disgraced,
dissipated, anonymous outcast, whom an honest girl dare not know? Why do
you presume to preach to me? Have you a father?

Sandy. Hush, Miss Mary, hush! I had a father. Harkin. All that you have
suffered from a kinship even so far removed, I have known from the hands
of one who should have protected me. MY father was--but no matter. You,
Miss Mary, came out of your trials like gold from the washing. I was
only the dirt and gravel to be thrown away. It is too late, Miss Mary,
too late. My father has never sought me, would turn me from his doors
had I sought him. Perhaps he is only right.

Miss Mary. But why should he be so different from others? Listen. This
very cousin whose offer I refused had a son,--wild, wayward, by all
report the most degraded of men. It was part of my cousin's reformation
to save this son, and, if it were possible, snatch him from that
terrible fate which seemed to be his only inheritance.

Sandy (eagerly). Yes, miss.

Miss Mary. To restore him to a regenerated home. With this idea he
followed his prodigal to California. I, you understand, was only an
after-thought consequent upon his success. He came to California upon
this pilgrimage two years ago. He had no recollection, so they tell me,
by which he could recognize this erring son; and at first his search
was wild, profitless, and almost hopeless. But by degrees, and with
a persistency that seemed to increase with his hopelessness, he was
rewarded by finding some clew to him at--at--at--

Sandy (excitedly). At Poker Flat?

Miss Mary. Ah, perhaps you know the story,--at Poker Flat. He traced him
to the Mission of San Carmel.

Sandy. Yes, miss: go on.

Miss Mary. He was more successful than he deserved, perhaps. He found
him. I see you know the story.

Sandy. Found him! Found him! Miss, did you say found him?

Miss Mary. Yes, found him. And today Alexander Morton, the reclaimed
prodigal, is part of the household I am invited to join. So you see, Mr.
Sandy, there is still hope. What has happened to him is only a promise
to you. Eh! Mr. Sandy--what is the matter? Are you ill? Your exertion
this morning, perhaps. Speak to me! Gracious heavens, he is going mad!
No! No! Yes--it cannot be--it is--he HAS broken his promise: he is drunk
again.

Sandy (rising, excited and confused). Excuse me, miss, I am a little
onsartain HERE (pointing to his head). I can't--I disremember--what you
said jus' now: ye mentioned the name o' that prodigal that was found.

Miss Mary. Certainly: compose yourself,--my cousin's son, Alexander
Morton. Listen, Sandy, you promised ME, you know, you said for MY sake
you would not touch a drop. (Enter cautiously toward schoolhouse the
DUCHESS, stops on observing SANDY, and hides behind rock.)

Sandy (still bewildered and incoherent). I reckon. Harkin, miss, is that
thar thing (pointing towards rock where DUCHESS is concealed)--is that a
tree, or--or--a woman? Is it sorter movin' this way?

Miss Mary (laying her hand on SANDY'S). Recover your senses, for
Heaven's sake, Sandy,--for MY sake! It is only a tree.

Sandy (rising). Then, miss, I've broke my word with ye: I'm drunk.
P'r'aps I'd better be a-goin' (looking round confusedly) till I'm sober.
(Going toward L.)

Miss Mary (seizing his hand). But you'll see me again, Sandy: you'll
come here--before--before--I go?

Sandy. Yes, miss,--before ye go. (Staggers stupidly toward L. Aside.)
Found him! found Alexander Morton! It's a third time, Sandy, the third
time: it means--it means--you're mad! (Laughs wildly, and exit L.)

Miss Mary (springing to her feet). There is a mystery behind all this,
Mary Morris, that you--you--must discover. That man was NOT drunk: he
HAD NOT broken his promise to me. What does it all mean? I have it.
I will accept the offer of this Alexander Morton. I will tell him the
story of this helpless man, this poor, poor, reckless Sandy. With the
story of his own son before his eyes, he cannot but interest himself in
his fate. He is rich: he will aid me in my search for Sandy's father,
for Sandy's secret. At the worst, I can only follow the advice of this
wretched man,--an advice so generous, so kind, so self-sacrificing. Ah--


SCENE 4.--The same. Enter the DUCHESS, showily and extravagantly
dressed. Her manner at first is a mixture of alternate shyness and
bravado.

The Duchess. I heerd tell that you was goin' down to 'Frisco to-morrow,
for your vacation; and I couldn't let ye go till I came to thank ye for
your kindness to my boy,--little Tommy.

Miss Mary (aside. Rising abstractedly, and recalling herself with an
effort). I see,--a poor outcast, the mother of my anonymous pupil.
(Aloud.) Tommy! a good boy,--a dear, good little boy.

Duchess. Thankee, miss, thankee. If I am his mother, thar ain't a
sweeter, dearer, better boy lives than him. And, if I ain't much as
says it, thar ain't a sweeter, dearer, angeler teacher than he's got. It
ain't for you to be complimented by me, miss; it ain't for such as me
to be comin' here in broad day to do it, either; but I come to ask a
favor,--not for me, miss, but for the darling boy.

Miss Mary (aside--abstractedly). This poor, degraded creature will kill
me with her wearying gratitude. Sandy will not return, of course, while
she is here. (Aloud.) Go on. If I can help you or yours, be assured I
will.

The Duchess. Thankee, miss. You see, thar's no one the boy has any claim
on but me, and I ain't the proper person to bring him up. I did allow to
send him to 'Frisco, last year; but when I heerd talk that a schoolma'am
was comin' up, and you did, and he sorter tuk to ye natril from the
first, I guess I did well to keep him yer. For, oh, miss, he loves ye
so much; and, if you could hear him talk in his purty way, ye wouldn't
refuse him anything.

Miss Mary (with fatigued politeness, and increasing impatience). I see,
I see: pray go on.

The Duchess (with quiet persistency). It's natril he should take to ye,
miss; for his father, when I first knowed him, miss, was a gentleman
like yourself; and the boy must forget me sooner or later--and I ain't
goin' to cry about THAT.

Miss Mary (impatiently). Pray tell me how I can serve you.

The Duchess. Yes, miss; you see, I came to ask you to take my
Tommy,--God bless him for the sweetest, bestest boy that lives!--to take
him with you. I've money plenty; and it's all yours and his. Put him
in some good school, whar ye kin go and see, and sorter help him
to--forget---his mother. Do with him what you like. The worst you can
do will be kindness to what he would learn with me. You will: I know you
will; won't you? You will make him as pure and as good as yourself; and
when he has grown up, and is a gentleman, you will tell him his father's
name,--the name that hasn't passed my lips for years,--the name of
Alexander Morton.

Miss Mary (aside). Alexander Morton! The prodigal! Ah, I see,--the
ungathered husks of his idle harvest.

The Duchess. You hesitate, Miss Mary. (Seizing her.) Do not take your
hand away. You are smiling. God bless you! I know you will take my boy.
Speak to me, Miss Mary.

Miss Mary (aloud). I will take your child. More than that, I will take
him to his father.

The Duchess. No, no! for God's sake, no, Miss Mary! He has never seen
him from his birth: he does not know him. He will disown him. He will
curse him,--will curse me!

Miss Mary. Why should he? Surely his crime is worse than yours.

The Duchess. Hear me, Miss Mary. (Aside.) How can I tell her? (Aloud.)
One moment, miss. I was once--ye may not believe it, miss--as good, as
pure, as you. I had a husband, the father of this child. He was
kind, good, easy, forgiving,--too good for me, miss, too simple and
unsuspecting. He was what the world calls a fool, miss: he loved me too
well,--the kind o' crime, miss,--beggin' your pardon, and all precepts
to the contrairy,--the one thing that women like me never forgives. He
had a pardner, miss, that governed him as HE never governed me;
that held him with the stronger will, and maybe ME too. I was young,
miss,--no older than yourself then; and I ran away with him,--left all,
and ran away with my husband's pardner. My husband--nat'rally--took
to drink. I axes your pardin', miss; but ye'll see now, allowin' your
larnin', that Alexander Morton ain't the man as will take my child.

Miss Mary. Nonsense. You are wrong. He has reformed; he has been
restored to his home,--your child's home, your home if you will but
claim it. Do not fear: I will make that right.

Enter SANDY slowly and sheepishly, R.; stops on observing the Duchess,
and stands amazed and motionless.

Miss Mary (observing SANDY--aside). He HAS returned. Poor fellow! How
shall I get rid of this woman? (Aloud.) Enough. If you are sincere, I
will take your child, and, God help me! bring him to his home and yours.
Are you satisfied?

The Duchess. Thank ye! Thank ye, miss; but--but thar's a mistake
somewhar. In course--it's natural--ye don't know the father of that
child, my boy Tommy, under the name o' Alexander Morton. Ye're thinking,
like as not, of another man. The man I mean lives yer, in this camp:
they calls him Sandy, miss,--SANDY!

Miss Mary (after a pause, coming forward passionately). Hush! I have
given you my answer, be it Alexander Morton or Sandy. Go now: bring me
the child this evening at my house. I will meet you there. (Leads the
DUCHESS to wing. The DUCHESS endeavors to fall at her feet.)

The Duchess. God bless you, miss!

Miss Mary (hurriedly embracing her). No more, no more--but go!

[Exit DUCHESS. MISS MARY returns hurriedly to centre, confronting SANDY.

Miss Mary (to SANDY, hurriedly and excitedly). You have heard what that
woman said. I do not ask you under what alias you are known here: I
only ask a single question.--Is SHE your wife? are you the father of her
child?

Sandy (sinking upon his knees before her, and covering his face with his
hands). I am!

Miss Mary. Enough! (Taking flower from her bosom.) Here, I give you back
the flower you gave me this morning. It has faded and died here upon my
breast. But I shall replace it with your foundling,--the child of that
woman, born like that flower in the snow! And I go now, Sandy, and leave
behind me, as you said this morning, the snow and rocks in which it
bloomed. Good-by! Farewell, farewell--forever! (Goes toward schoolhouse
as--)

Enter COL. STARBOTTLE.

Miss Mary (to STARBOTTLE). You are here in season, sir. You must have
come for an answer to your question. You must first give me one to mine.
Who is this man (pointing to SANDY), the man you met upon the rocks this
morning?

Col. Starbottle. Ahem! I am--er--now fully prepared and responsible, I
may say, miss--er--personally responsible, to answer that question. When
you asked it this morning, the ordinary courtesy of the--er--code of
honor threw a--er--cloak around the--er--antecedents of the--er--man
whom I had--er--elected by a demand for personal satisfaction, to the
equality of myself, an--er--gentleman! That--er--cloak is now removed. I
have waited six hours for an apology or a--er--reply to my demand. I am
now free to confess that the--er--person you allude to was first known
by me, three months ago, as an inebriated menial,--a groom in the
household of my friend Don Jose Castro,--by the--er--simple name of
"Diego."

Miss Mary (slowly). I am satisfied. I accept my cousin's invitation.

[Exit slowly, supported by COL. STARBOTTLE, R.

As STARBOTTLE and MISS MARY exeunt R., CONCHO and HOP SING enter
cautiously, L. SANDY slowly rises to his feet, passes his hand across
his forehead, looks around toward exit of STARBOTTLE and MISS MARY.

Sandy (slowly, but with more calmness of demeanor). Gone, gone--forever!
No: I am not mad, nor crazed with drink. My hands no longer tremble.
There is no confusion here. (Feeling his forehead). I heard them all. It
was no dream. I heard her every word. Alexander Morton, yes, they
spoke of Alexander Morton. She is going to him, to my father. She is
going--she, Mary, my cousin--she is going to my father. He has been
seeking me--has found--ah! (Groans.) No, no, Sandy! Be patient, be calm:
you are not crazy--no, no, good Sandy, good old boy! Be patient, be
patient: it is coming, it is coming. Yes, I see: some one has leaped
into my place; some one has leaped into the old man's arms. Some one
will creep into HER heart! No! by God! No! I am Alexander Morton. Yes,
yes! But how, how shall I prove it?--how? Who (CONCHO steps cautiously
forward towards SANDY unobserved) will believe the vagabond, the
outcast--my God!--the crazy drunkard?

Concho (advancing, and laying his hand on SANDY). I will!

Sandy (staggering back amazedly). You!

Concho. Yes,--I, I,--Concho! You know me, Diego, you know me,--Concho,
the major-domo of the Blessed Innocents. Ha! You know me now. Yes, I
have come to save you. I have come to make you strong. So--I have come
to help you strip the Judas that has stepped into your place,--the sham
prodigal that has had the fatted calf and the ring,--ah! ah!

Sandy. You? You do not know me!

Concho. Ah! you think, you think, eh? Listen: Since you left I have
tracked HIM--THE IMPOSTOR, this Judas, this coyote--step by step, until
his tracks crossed yours; and then I sought you out. I know all. I found
a letter you had dropped; that brought me to Poker Flat. Ah, you start!
I have seen those who knew you as Alexander Morton. You see! Ah, I am
wise.

Sandy (aside). It is true. (Aloud.) But (suspiciously) why have you done
this? You, Concho?--you were not my friend.

Concho. No, but HE is my enemy. Ah, you start! Look at me, Alexander
Morton, Sandy, Diego! You knew a man, strong, active, like yourself.
Eh! Look at me now! Look at me, a cripple! Eh! lame and crushed here
(pointing to his leg), broken and crushed here (pointing to his heart),
by him,--the impostor! Listen, Diego. The night I was sent to track you
from the rancho, he--this man--struck me from the wall, dashed me to the
earth, and made MY BODY, broken and bruised, a stepping-stone to leap
the wall into your place, Diego,--into your father's heart,--into my
master's home. They found me dead, they thought,--no, not dead, Diego!
It was sad, they said,--unfortunate. They nursed me; they talked
of money--eh, Diego!--money! They would have pensioned me to hush
scandal--eh! I was a dog, a foreigner, a Greaser! Eh! That is why I am
here. No! I love you not, Diego; you are of his race; but I hate--Mother
of God!--I HATE him!

Sandy (rising to his feet, aside). Good! I begin to feel my courage
return: my nerves are stronger. Courage, Sandy! (Aloud.) Be it
so, Concho: there is my hand! We will help each other,--you to my
birthright, I to your revenge! Hark ye! (SANDY'S manner becomes more
calm and serious.) This impostor is NO craven, NO coyote. Whoever he is,
he must be strong. He has most plausible evidences. We must have rigid
proofs. I will go with you to Poker Flat. There is one man, if he be
living, knows me better than any man who lives. He has done me wrong,--a
great wrong, Concho,--but I will forgive him. I will do more,--I will
ask his forgiveness. He will be a witness no man dare gainsay--my
partner--God help him and forgive him as I do!--John Oakhurst.

Concho. Oakhurst your partner!

Sandy (angrily). Yes. Look ye, Concho, he has wronged me in a private
way: that is MY business, not YOURS; but he was MY partner, no one shall
abuse him before me.

Concho. Be it so. Then sink here! Rot here! Go back to your husks, O
prodigal! wallow in the ditches of this camp, and see your birthright
sold for a dram of aguardiente! Lie here, dog and coyote that you are,
with your mistress under the protection of your destroyer! For I tell
you--I, Concho, the cripple--that the man who struck me down, the man
who stepped into your birthright, the man who to-morrow welcomes your
sweetheart in his arms, who holds the custody of your child, is your
partner,--John Oakhurst.

Sandy (who has been sinking under CONCHO'S words, rising convulsively to
his feet). God be merciful to me a sinner! (Faints.)

Concho (standing over his prostrate body exultingly). I am right. You
are wise, Concho, you are wise! You have found Alexander Morton!

Hop Sing (advancing slowly to SANDY'S side, and extending open palm).
Me washee shirt flo you, flowty dozen hab. You no payee me. Me wantee
twenty dollar hep. Sabe!

Curtain.

END OF ACT II.



ACT III.


SCENE 1.--The bank parlor of Morton & Son, San Francisco. Room richly
furnished; two square library desks, left and right. At right, safe in
wall; at left, same with practicable doors. Folding door in flat C.,
leading to counting-room. Door in left to private room of ALEXANDER
MORTON, sen.; door in right to private room of MORTON, jun. ALEXANDER
MORTON, sen., discovered at desk R., opening and reading letters.

Morton, sen. (laying down letter). Well, well, the usual story; letters
from all sorts of people, who have done or intend to do all sorts of
things for my reclaimed prodigal. (Reads.) "Dear Sir: five years ago
I loaned some money to a stranger who answers the description of your
recovered son. He will remember Jim Parker,--Limping Jim, of Poker Flat.
Being at present short of funds, please send twenty dollars, amount
loaned, by return mail. If not convenient, five dollars will do as
instalment." Pshaw! (Throws letter aside, and takes up another.) "Dear
Sir: I invite your attention to enclosed circular for a proposed Home
for Dissipated and Anonymous Gold-Miners. Your well-known reputation for
liberality, and your late valuable experience in the reformation of your
son, will naturally enlist your broadest sympathies. We enclose a draft
for five thousand dollars, for your signature." We shall see! Another:
"Dear Sir: the Society for the Formation of Bible Classes in the Upper
Stanislaus acknowledge your recent munificent gift of five hundred
dollars to the cause. Last Sabbath Brother Hawkins of Poker Flat related
with touching effect the story of your prodigal to an assemblage of over
two hundred miners. Owing to unusual expenses, we regret to be compelled
to draw upon you for five hundred dollars more." So! (Putting down
letter.) If we were given to pride and vainglory, we might well be
puffed up with the fame of our works and the contagion of our example:
yet I fear that, with the worldly-minded, this praise of charity to
others is only the prayerful expectation of some personal application to
the praiser. (Rings hand-bell.)

Enter JACKSON.

(To JACKSON.) File these letters (handing letters) with the others.
There is no answer. Has young Mr. Alexander come in yet?

Jackson. He only left here an hour ago. It was steamer day yesterday: he
was up all night, sir.

Old Morton (aside). True. And the night before he travelled all night,
riding two hours ahead of one of our defaulting agents, and saved the
bank a hundred thousand dollars. Certainly his devotion to business is
unremitting. (Aloud.) Any news from Col. Starbottle?

Jackson. He left this note, sir, early this morning.

Old Morton (takes it, and reads). "I think I may say, on my own personal
responsibility, that the mission is successful. Miss Morris will arrive
to-night with a female attendant and child." (To JACKSON.) That is all,
sir. Stop! Has any one been smoking here?

Jackson. Not to my knowledge, sir.

Old Morton. There was a flavor of stale tobacco smoke in the room this
morning when I entered, and ashes on the carpet. I KNOW that young Mr.
Alexander has abandoned the pernicious habit. See that it does not occur
again.

Jackson. Yes, sir. (Aside.) I must warn Mr. Alexander that his friends
must be more careful; and yet those ashes were good for a deposit of
fifty thousand.

Old Morton. Is any one waiting?

Jackson. Yes, sir,--Don Jose Castro and Mr. Capper.

Old Morton. Show in the Don: the policeman can wait.

Jackson. Yes, sir. [Exit.

Old Morton (taking up STARBOTTLE'S note). "Miss Morris will arrive
to-night." And yet he saw her only yesterday. This is not like her
mother: no. She would never have forgiven and forgotten so quickly.
Perhaps she knew not my sin and her mother's wrongs; perhaps she
has--has--CHRISTIAN forgiveness (sarcastically); perhaps, like my
prodigal, she will be immaculately perfect. Well, well: at least her
presence will make my home less lonely. "An attendant and child." A
child! Ah, if HE, my boy, my Alexander, were still a child, I might warm
this cold, cold heart in his sunshine! Strange that I cannot reconstruct
from this dutiful, submissive, obedient, industrious Alexander,--this
redeemed outcast, this son who shares my life, my fortunes, my
heart,--the foolish, wilful, thoughtless, idle boy, that once defied me.
I remember (musing, with a smile) how the little rascal, ha, ha! once
struck me,--STRUCK ME!--when I corrected him: ha, ha! (Rubbing his hands
with amusement, and then suddenly becoming grave and lugubrious.) No,
no. These are the whisperings of the flesh. Why should I find fault with
him for being all that a righteous conversion demands,--all that I asked
and prayed for? No, Alexander Morton: it is you, YOU, who are not yet
regenerate. It is YOU who are ungrateful to Him who blessed you, to Him
whose guiding hand led you to--

Enter JACKSON.

Jackson. Don Jose Castro.

Enter DON JOSE.

Don Jose. A thousand pardons, senor, for interrupting you in the hours
of business; but it is--it is of business I would speak. (Looking
around.)

Old Morton (to JACKSON). You can retire. (Exit JACKSON.) Be seated, Mr.
Castro: I am at your service.

Don Jose. It is of your--your son--

Old Morton. Our firm is Morton & Son: in business we are one, Mr.
Castro.

Don Jose. Bueno! Then to you as to him I will speak. Here is a letter
I received yesterday. It has significance, importance perhaps. But,
whatever it is, it is something for you, not me, to know. If I am
wronged much, Don Alexandro, you, you, are wronged still more. Shall
I read it? Good. (Reads.) "The man to whom you have affianced your
daughter is not the son of Alexander Morton. Have a care. If I do not
prove him an impostor at the end of six days, believe me one, and not
your true friend and servant, Concho." In six days, Don Alexandro, the
year of probation is over, and I have promised my daughter's hand to
your son. (Hands letter to MORTON.)

Old Morton (ringing bell). Is that all, Mr. Castro?

Don Jose. All, Mr. Castro? Carramba! is it not enough?

Enter JACKSON.

Old Morton (to JACKSON). You have kept a record of this business during
the last eighteen months. Look at this letter. (Handing letter.) Is the
handwriting familiar?

Jackson (taking letter). Can't say, sir. The form is the old one.

Old Morton. How many such letters have you received?

Jackson. Four hundred and forty-one, sir. This is the four hundred and
forty-second application for your son's position, sir.

Don Jose. Pardon. This is not an application: it is only information or
caution.

Old Morton (to JACKSON). How many letters of information or caution have
we received?

Jackson. This makes seven hundred and eighty-one, sir.

Old Morton. How, sir! (Quickly.) There were but seven hundred and
seventy-nine last night.

Jackson. Beg pardon, sir! The gentleman who carried Mr. Alexander's
valise from the boat was the seven hundred and eightieth.

Old Morton. Explain yourself, sir.

Jackson. He imparted to me, while receiving his stipend, the fact that
he did not believe young Mr. Alexander was your son. An hour later,
sir, he also imparted to me confidentially that he believed you were his
father, and requested the loan of five dollars, to be repaid by you,
to enable him to purchase a clean shirt, and appear before you in
respectable condition. He waited for you an hour, and expressed some
indignation that he had not an equal show with others to throw himself
into your arms.

Don Jose (rising, aside, and uplifting his hands). Carramba! These
Americanos are of the Devil! (Aloud.) Enough, Don Alexandro! Then you
think this letter is only worth--

Old Morton. One moment. I can perhaps tell you exactly its market value.
(To JACKSON.) Go on, sir.

Jackson. At half-past ten, sir, then being slightly under the influence
of liquor, he accepted the price of a deck passage to Stockton.

Old Morton. How much was that, sir?

Jackson. Fifty cents.

Old Morton. Exactly so! There you have, sir (to DON JOSE), the market
value of the information you have received. I would advise you, as a
business matter, not to pay more. As a business matter, you can at any
time draw upon us for the amount. (To JACKSON.) Admit Mr. Capper. [Exit
JACKSON.

Don Jose (rising with dignity). This is an insult, Don Alexandro.

Old Morton. You are wrong, Mr. Castro: it is BUSINESS; sought, I
believe, by yourself. Now that it is transacted, I beg you to dine with
me to-morrow to meet my niece. No offence, sir, no offence. Come, come!
Business, you know, business.

Don Jose (relaxing). Be it so! I will come. (Aside.) These Americanos,
these Americanos, are of the Devil! (Aloud.) Adios. (Going.) I hear,
by report, that you have met with the misfortune of a serious loss by
robbery?

Old Morton (aside). So our mishap is known everywhere. (Aloud.) No
serious misfortune, Mr. Castro, even if we do not recover the money.
Adios.

[Exit Don Jose.

Old Morton. The stiff-necked Papist! That he should dare, for the sake
of his black-browed, froward daughter, to--question the faith on which
I have pinned my future! Well, with God's blessing, I gave him some
wholesome discipline. If it were not for my covenant with Alexander--and
nobly he has fulfilled his part,--I should forbid his alliance with the
blood of this spying Jesuit.

Enter Mr. JACKSON, leading in CAPPER.

Jackson. Policeman, sir. [Exit.

Capper (turning sharply). Who's that man?

Old Morton. Jackson, clerk.

Capper. Umph! Been here long?

Old Morton. A year. He was appointed by my son.

Capper. Know anything of his previous life?

Old Morton (stiffly). I have already told you he is an appointee of my
son's.

Capper. Yes! (Aside.) "Like master, like man." (Aloud.) Well,
to business. We have worked up the robbery. We have reached two
conclusions,--one, that the work was not done by professionals; the
other, consequent upon this, that you can't recover the money.

Old Morton. Excuse me, sir, but I do not see the last conclusion.

Capper. Then listen. The professional thief has only one or two ways of
disposing of his plunder, and these ways are always well known to us.
Good! Your stolen coin has not been disposed of in the regular way,
through the usual hands which we could at any time seize. Of this we are
satisfied.

Old Morton. How do you know it?

Capper. In this way. The only clew we have to the identification of the
missing money were two boxes of Mexican doubloons.

Old Morton (aside). Mr. Castro's special deposit! He may have reason for
his interest. (Aloud.) Go on.

Capper. It is a coin rare in circulation in the interior. The night
after the robbery, the dealer of a monte-table in Sacramento paid out
five thousand dollars in doubloons. He declared it was taken in at the
table, and could not identify the players. Of course, OF COURSE! So far,
you see, you are helpless. We have only established one fact, that the
robber is--is--(significantly) a gambler.

Old Morton (quietly). The regular trade of the thief seems to me to be
of little importance if you cannot identify him, or recover my money.
But go on, sir, go on: or is this all?

Capper (aside). The old fool is blind. That is natural. (Aloud.) It is
not all. The crime will doubtless be repeated. The man who has access
to your vaults, who has taken only thirty thousand dollars when he could
have secured half a million,--this man, who has already gambled that
thirty thousand away,--will not stop there. He will in a day or two,
perhaps to-day, try to retrieve his losses out of YOUR capital. I am
here to prevent it.

Old Morton (becoming interested). How?

Capper. Give me, for forty-eight hours, free access to this building.
Let me conceal myself somewhere, anywhere, within these walls. Let it be
without the knowledge of your clerks, even of YOUR SON!

Old Morton (proudly). Mr. Alexander Morton is absent to-day. There is
no other reason why he should not be here to consent to the acts of his
partner and father.

Capper (quickly). Very good. It is only to insure absolute secrecy.

Old Morton (aside). Another robbery might excite a suspicion, worse
for our credit than our actual loss. There is a significant earnestness
about this man, that awakens my fears. If Alexander were only here.
(Aloud.) I accept. (CAPPER has been trying doors R. and L.)

Capper. What room is this? (At R.)

Old Morton. My son's: I would prefer--

Capper. And this? (At L.)

Old Morton. Mine, sir; if you choose--

Capper (locking door, and putting key in his pocket). This will do.
Oblige me by making the necessary arrangements in your counting-room.

Old Morton (hesitating and aside). He is right: perhaps it is only
prudence, and I am saving Alexander additional care and annoyance.
[Exit.

Enter MR. SHADOW cautiously, C.

Shadow (in a lisping whisper to CAPPER). I've got the litht of the
clerkth complete.

Capper (triumphantly). Put it in your pocket, Shadow. We don't care for
the lackeys now: we are after the master.

Shadow. Eh! the mathter?

Capper. Yes: the master,--the young master, the reclaimed son, the
reformed prodigal! ha, ha!--the young man who compensates himself for
all this austere devotion to business and principle by dipping into
the old man's vaults when he wants a pasear: eh, Shadow? That's the
man we're after. Look here! I never took any stock in that young man's
reformation. Ye don't teach old sports like him new tricks. They're a
bad lot, father and son,--eh, Shadow?--and he's a chip of the old block.
I spotted him before this robbery, before we were ever called in
here professionally. I've had my eye on Alexander Morton, alias John
Oakhurst; and, when I found the old man's doubloons raked over a
monte-table at Sacramento, I knew where to look for the thief. Eh,
Shadow?

Shadow (aside). He ith enormouth, thith Mithter Capper.

Enter OLD MORTON.

Old Morton. I have arranged everything. You will not be disturbed or
suspected here in my private office. Eh! (Looking at SHADOW.) Who has
slipped in here?

Capper. Only my Shadow, Mr. Morton; but I can rid myself even of that.
(Crosses to SHADOW.) Take this card to the office, and wait for further
orders. Vanish, Shadow! [Exit SHADOW.

Enter JACKSON.

Jackson. Mr. Alexander has come in, sir. (OLD MORTON and CAPPER start.)

Old Morton. Where is he?

Jackson. In his private room, sir.

Old Morton. Enough: you can go.

[Exit JACKSON.

Capper (crossing to MORTON). Remember, you have given your pledge of
secrecy. Beware! Your honor, your property, the credit and reputation of
your bank, are at stake.

Old Morton (after a pause of hesitation, with dignity). I gave you
my word, sir, while my son was not present. I shall save myself
from breaking my word with you, or concealing anything from him, by
withdrawing myself. For the next twenty-four hours, this room (pointing
to private room R.) is yours.

Each regards the other. Exit OLD MORTON C., as CAPPER exit in private
room R. After a pause, door of room L. opens, and HARRY YORK appears,
slightly intoxicated, followed by JOHN OAKHURST.

Harry York (looking around). By Jove! Morton, but you've got things in
style here. And this yer's the gov'nor's desk; and here old Praise
god Barebones sits opposite ye. Look yer, old boy (throwing himself in
chair), I kin allow how it comes easy for ye to run this bank, for it's
about as exciting, these times, as faro was to ye in '49, when I first
knew ye as Jack Oakhurst; but how the Devil you can sit opposite that
stiff embodiment of all the Ten Commandments, day by day, damn it!
that's wot GETS me! Why, the first day I came here on business, the
old man froze me so that I couldn't thaw a deposit out of my pocket. It
chills me to think of it.

Oakhurst (hastily). I suppose I am accustomed to him. But come, Harry:
let me warm you. (Opens door of safe L., and discovers cupboard,
decanter, and glasses.)

York (laughing). By Jove! under the old man's very nose. Jack, this is
like you. (Takes a drink.) Well, old boy, this is like old times. But
you don't drink?

Oakhurst. No, nor smoke. The fact is, Harry, I've taken a year's pledge.
I've six days still to run; after that (gloomily), why (with a reckless
laugh), I shall be Jack Oakhurst again.

York. Lord! to think of your turning out to be anybody's son,
Jack!--least of all, HIS! (Pointing to chair.)

Oakhurst (laughing recklessly). Not more strange than that I should find
Harry York, the spendthrift of Poker Flat, the rich and respected Mr.
York, produce merchant of San Francisco.

York. Yes; but, my boy, you see I didn't strike it--in a rich father. I
gave up gambling, married, and settled down, saved my money, invested a
little here and there, and--worked for it, Jack, damn me,--worked for it
like a damned horse!

Oakhurst (aside). True, this is not work.

York. But that ain't my business with ye now, old boy: it's this. You've
had some trials and troubles in the bank lately,--a defalcation of
agents one day, a robbery next. It's luck, my boy, luck! but ye know
people will talk. You don't mind my sayin' that there's rumors 'round.
The old man's mighty unpopular because he's a saint; and folks don't
entirely fancy you because you used to be the reverse. Well, Jack, it
amounts to 'bout this: I've withdrawn my account from Parkinson's, in
Sacramento, and I've got a pretty heavy balance on hand--nigh on two
hundred thousand--in bonds and certificates here; and if it will help
you over the rough places, old boy, as a deposit, yer it is (drawing
pocket-book.)

Oakhurst (greatly affected, but endeavoring to conceal it). Thank you,
Harry, old fellow--but--

York (quickly). I know: I'll take the risk, a business risk. You'll
stand by me all you can, old boy; you'll make it pay all you can; and if
you lose it--why--all right!

Oakhurst (embarrassed). As a deposit with Morton & Son, drawing two per
cent monthly interest--

York. Damn Morton & Son! I'll back it with Jack Oakhurst, the man I
know.

Oakhurst (advancing slowly). I'll take it, Harry.

York (extending his hand). It's a square game, Jack!

Oakhurst (seizing his hand with repressed emotion). It's a square game,
Harry York, if I live.

York. Then I'll travel. Good-night, old boy. I'll send my clerk around
in the morning to put things right. Good-night (going).

Oakhurst (grasping YORK'S hand). One moment--no--nothing! Good-night.
[Exit YORK.

OAKHURST follows him to door, and then returns to desk, throwing himself
in chair, and burying his face in his hands.

Oakhurst (with deep feeling). It needed but this to fill the measure of
my degradation. I have borne the suspicions of the old man's enemies,
the half-pitying, half-contemptuous sympathy of his friends, even his
own cold, heartless, fanatical fulfilment of his sense of duty; but
THIS--this confidence from one who had most reason to scorn me, this
trust from one who knew me as I WAS,--this is the hardest burden. And
he, too, in time will know me to be an impostor. He too--a reformed man;
but he has honorably retraced his steps, and won the position I hold
by a trick, an imposture. And what is all my labor beside his honest
sincerity? I have fought against the chances that might discover my
deception, against the enemies who would overthrow me, against the
fate that put me here; and I have been successful--yes, a successful
impostor! I have even fought against the human instinct that told this
fierce, foolish old man that I was an alien to his house, to his blood;
I have even felt him scan my face eagerly for some reflection of his
long-lost boy, for some realization of his dream; and I have seen him
turn away, cold, heartsick, and despairing. What matters that I have
been to him devoted, untiring, submissive, ay, a better son to him than
his own weak flesh and blood would have been? He would to-morrow cast
me forth to welcome the outcast, Sandy Morton. Well, what matters?
(Recklessly.) Nothing. In six days it will be over; in six days the year
of my probation will have passed; in six days I will disclose to him the
deceit I have practised, and will face the world again as John Oakhurst,
the gambler, who staked and lost ALL on a single cast. And Jovita! Well,
well!--the game is made: it is too late to draw out now. (Rings bell.
Enter JACKSON.) Who has been here?

Jackson. Only Don Jose, and Mr. Capper, the detective.

Oakhurst. The detective? What for?

Jackson. To work up the robbery, sir.

Oakhurst. True! Capper, Capper, yes! A man of wild and ridiculous
theories, but well-meaning, brave, and honest. (Aside.) This is the old
man's idea. He does not know that I was on the trail of the thieves an
hour before the police were notified. (Aloud.) Well, sir?

Jackson. He told your father he thought the recovery of the money
hopeless, but he came to caution us against a second attempt.

Oakhurst (aside, starting). True! I had not thought of that.
(Excitedly.) The success of their first attempt will incite them to
another; the money they have stolen is gone by this time. (Aloud.)
Jackson, I will stay here to-night and to-morrow night, and relieve your
regular watchman. You will, of course, say nothing of my intention.

Jackson. Yes, sir. (Lingering.)

Oakhurst (after a pause). That is all, Mr. Jackson.

Jackson. Beg your pardon, Mr. Morton; but Col. Starbottle, with two
ladies, was here half an hour ago, and said they would come again when
you were alone.

Oakhurst. Very well: admit them.

Jackson. Beg pardon, sir; but they seemed to avoid seeing your father
until they had seen you. It looked mysterious, and I thought I would
tell you first.

Oakhurst (laughing). Admit them, Mr. Jackson. (Exit JACKSON.) This
poor fellow's devotion is increasing. He, too, believes that his old
associate in dissipation, John Oakhurst, IS the son of Alexander Morton.
He, too, will have to share in the disgrace of the impostor. Ladies!
umph! (Looking down at his clothes.) I'm afraid the reform of Alexander
Morton hasn't improved the usual neatness of John Oakhurst. I haven't
slept, nor changed my clothes, for three days. (Goes to door of MORTON,
sen.'s, room.) Locked, and the key on the inside! That's strange.
Nonsense! the old man has locked his door and gone out through the
private entrance. Well, I'll find means of making my toilet here. [Exit
into private room L.

Enter JACKSON, leading in COL. STARBOTTLE, MISS MARY, the DUCHESS, and
child of three years.

Jackson. Mr. Alexander Morton, jun., is in his private room. He will be
here in a moment. [Exit JACKSON.

Starbottle. One moment, a single moment, Miss Mary. Permit me to--er--if
I may so express myself, to--er--group the party, to--er--place
the--er--present company into position. I have--er--observed as part of
my--er--legal experience, that in cases of moral illustration a great, I
may say--er--tremendous, effect on the--er--jury, I mean the--er--guilty
party, has been produced by the attitude of the--er--victim and martyr.
You, madam, as the--er--injured wife (placing her), shall stand here,
firm yet expectant, protecting your child, yet looking hopefully for
assistance toward its natural protector. You, Miss Mary, shall stand
here (placing her), as Moral Retribution, leaning toward and slightly
appealing to me, the image of--er--er--Inflexible Justice! (Inflates his
chest, puts his hand in his bosom, and strikes an attitude.)

Door of young Morton's room opens, and discloses MR. OAKHURST gazing at
the group. He starts slightly on observing the DUCHESS, but instantly
recovers himself, and faces the company coldly. The DUCHESS starts
on observing OAKHURST, and struggles in confusion towards the door,
dragging with her the child and MISS MARY, who endeavors to re-assure
her. COL. STARBOTTLE looks in astonishment from one to the other, and
advances to front.

Col. Starbottle (aside). The--er--tableau, although striking in moral
force, is apparently--er--deficient in moral stamina.

Miss Mary (angrily to the DUCHESS). I'm ashamed of you! (To OAKHURST,
advancing.) I don't ask pardon for my intrusion. If you are Alexander
Morton, you are my kinsman, and you will know that I cannot introduce
myself better than as the protector of an injured woman. Come here! (To
the DUCHESS, dragging her towards OAKHURST. To OAKHURST.) Look upon this
woman: she claims to be--

Starbottle (stepping between MISS MARY and the DUCHESS). A moment,
Miss Mary, a single moment! Permit me to--er--explain. The whole thing,
the--er--situation reminds me, demn me, of most amusing incident at
Sacramento in '52. Large party at Hank Suedecois: know Hank? Confirmed
old bach of sixty. Dinner for forty. Everything in style, first
families, Ged,--Judge Beeswinger, Mat Boompointer, and Maje Blodgett
of Ahlabam: know old Maje Blodgett? Well, Maje was there. Ged, sir,
delay,--everybody waiting. I went to Hank. "Hank," I says,
"what's matter? why delay?"--"Star," he says,--always called me
Star,--"Star,--it's cook!"--"Demn cook," I says: "discharge
cook,--only a black mulatto anyway!"--"Can't, Star," he says:
"impossible!"--"Can't?" says I.--"No," says he. "Listen, Star," he says,
"family secret! Honor! Can't discharge cook, because cook--demn
it--'s MY wife!" Fact, sir, fact--showed marriage certificate--married
privately seven years! Fact, sir--

The Duchess (to MISS MARY). Some other time, miss, let us go now.
There's a mistake, miss, I can't explain. Some other time, miss! See,
miss, how cold and stern he looks! another time, miss! (Struggling.) For
God's sake, miss, let me go!

Miss Mary. No! This mystery must be cleared up now, before I enter HIS
house,--before I accept the charge of this--

Starbottle (interrupting, and crossing before MISS MARY). A moment--a
single moment, miss. (To OAKHURST.) Mr. Morton, you will pardon the
exuberance, and perhaps, under the circumstances, somewhat natural
impulsiveness, of the--er--sex, for which I am perhaps responsible; I
may say--er--personally, sir,--personally responsible--

Oakhurst (coldly). Go on, sir.

Starbottle. The lady on my right is--er--the niece of your father,--your
cousin. The lady on my left, engaged in soothing the--er--bashful
timidity of infancy, is--er--that is--er--claims to be, the mother of
the child of Alexander Morton.

Oakhurst (calmly). She is right.

Miss Mary (rushing forward). Then you are--

Oakhurst (gently restraining her). You have another question to ask: you
hesitate: let me ask it. (Crossing to the DUCHESS.) You have heard my
answer. Madam, are you the legal wife of Alexander Morton?

The Duchess (sinking upon her knees, and dropping her face in her
hands). No!

Oakhurst. Enough: I will take the child. Pardon me, Miss Morris, but you
have heard enough to know that your mission is accomplished, but what
else passes between this woman and myself becomes no stranger to hear.
(Motions toward room L.)

Miss Mary (aside). It is HIS son. I am satisfied (going). Come, colonel.

[Exeunt into room L., STARBOTTLE and MISS MARY.

The Duchess (crossing to OAKHURST, and falling at his feet). Forgive me,
Jack, forgive me! It was no fault of mine. I did not know that you were
here. I did not know that you had taken his name!

Oakhurst. Hush--on your life!

The Duchess. Hear me, Jack! I was anxious only for a home for my child.
I came to HER--the schoolmistress of Red Gulch--for aid. I told her the
name of my boy's father. She--she brought me here. Oh, forgive me, Jack!
I have offended you!

Oakhurst. How can I believe you? You have deceived HIM. You have
deceived me. Listen! When I said, a moment ago, you were not the wife
of Alexander Morton, it was because I knew that your first husband--the
Australian convict Pritchard--was still living; that you had deceived
Sandy Morton as you had deceived me. That was why I left you. Tell me,
have you deceived me also about him, as you did about the other? Is HE
living, and with you; or dead, as you declared.

The Duchess (aside). He will kill me if I tell him. (Aloud.) No, no. He
is gone--is dead these three years.

Oakhurst. You swear!

The Duchess (hesitates, gasps, and looks around for her child; then
seizing it, and drawing it toward her). I--swear.

Oakhurst. Enough. Seek not to know why I am here, and under his name.
Enough for you that it has saved your child's future, and secured him
his heritage past all revocation. Yet remember! a word from you within
the next few days destroys it all. After that, I care not what you say.

The Duchess. Jack! One word, Jack, before I go. I never thought to bring
my shame to you!--to HIM!

Oakhurst. It was no trick, then, no contrivance, that brought her here.
No: it was fate. And at least I shall save his child.

Re-enter STARBOTTLE, MISS MARY, and DUCHESS.

Col. Starbottle (impressively). Permit me, Mr. Alexander Morton, as
the friend of my--er--principal to declare that we have
received--honorable--honorable--satisfaction. Allow me, sir, to grasp
the hand, the--er--cherished hand of a gentleman who, demn me! has
fulfilled all his duties to--er--society and gentlemen. And allow me to
add, sir, should any invidious criticism of the present--er--settlement
be uttered in my presence, I shall hold that critic responsible,
sir--er--personally responsible!

Miss Mary (sweeping truculently and aggressively up to JOHN OAKHURST).
And permit ME to add, sir, that, if you can see your way clearly out
of this wretched muddle, it's more than I can. This arrangement may be
according to the Californian code of morality, but it doesn't accord
with my Eastern ideas of right and wrong. If this foolish, wretched
creature chooses to abandon all claim upon you, chooses to run away from
you,--why, I suppose, as a GENTLEMAN, according to your laws of honor,
you are absolved. Good-night, Mr. Alexander Morton. (Goes to door C.,
and exit, pushing out STARBOTTLE, the DUCHESS, and child. MR. OAKHURST
sinks into chair at desk, burying his face in his hands. Re-enter slowly
and embarrassedly, MISS MARY: looks toward OAKHURST, and comes slowly
down stage.)

Miss Mary (aside). I was too hard on him. I was not so hard on Sandy
when I thought that he--he--was the father of her child. And he's my own
flesh and blood, too; and--he's crying. (Aloud.) Mr. Morton.

Oakhurst (slowly lifting his head). Yes; Miss Mary.

Miss Mary. I spoke hastily just then. I--I--thought--you
see--I--(angrily and passionately) I mean this. I'm a stranger. I don't
understand your Californian ways, and I don't want to. But I believe
you've done what you thought was right, according to a MAN'S idea of
right; and--there's my hand. Take it, take it; for it's a novelty, Mr.
Morton: it's the hand of an honest girl!

Oakhurst (hesitates, then rises, sinks on one knee, and raises MISS
MARY'S fingers to his lips). God bless you, miss! God bless you!

Miss Mary (retreating to centre door). Good-night, good-night
(slowly),--cousin--Alexander. [Exit. Dark stage.

Oakhurst (rising swiftly). No, no: it is false! Ah! She's gone. Another
moment, and I would have told her all. Pshaw! courage, man! It is only
six days more, and you are free, and this year's shame and agony forever
ended.

Enter JACKSON.

Jackson. As you ordered, sir, the night watchman has been relieved, and
has just gone.

Oakhurst. Very good, sir; and you?

Jackson. I relieved the porter, sir; and I shall bunk on two chairs in
the counting-room. You'll find me handy if you want me, sir. Good-night,
sir. [Exit C.

Oakhurst. I fear these rascals will not dare to make their second
attempt to-night. A quiet scrimmage with them, enough to keep me awake
or from thinking, would be a good fortune. No, no! no such luck for
you to-night, John Oakhurst! You are playing a losing game.... Yet
the robbery was a bold one. At eleven o'clock, while the bank was yet
lighted, and Mr. Jackson and another clerk were at work here, three
well-dressed men pick the lock of the counting-house door, enter, and
turn the key on the clerks in this parlor, and carry away a box of
doubloons not yet placed in the vaults by the porter; and all this done
so cautiously that the clerks within knew nothing of it until notified
of the open street door by the private watchman, and so boldly that the
watchman, seeing them here, believed them clerks of the bank, and let
them go unmolested. No: this was the coincidence of good luck, not of
bold premeditation. There will be no second attempt. (Yawns.) If they
don't come soon I shall fall asleep. Four nights without rest will tell
on a man, unless he has some excitement to back him. (Nods.) Hallo! What
was that? Oh! Jackson in the counting-room getting to bed. I'll look at
that front door myself. (Takes revolver from desk and goes to door C.,
tries lock, comes down stage with revolver, examines it, and lays it
down.)

Oakhurst (slowly and quietly.) The door is locked on the outside: that
may have been an accident. The caps are taken from my pistol: THAT was
not! Well, here is the vault, and here is John Oakhurst: to reach the
one, they must pass the other.

(Takes off his coat, seizes poker from grate, and approaches safe.) Ha!
some one is moving in the old man's room. (Approaches door of room R.
as--

Enter noiselessly and cautiously from room L., PRITCHARD, SILKY, and
SOAPY. PRITCHARD and his confederates approach OAKHURST from behind,
carrying lariat, or slip-noose.

Oakhurst (listening at door R.) Good. At least I know from what quarter
to expect the attack. Ah!

PRITCHARD throws slip-noose over OAKHURST from behind; OAKHURST puts
his hand in his breast as the slip-noose is drawn across his bosom,
pinioning one arm over his breast, and the other at his side. SILKY and
SOAPY, directed by PRITCHARD, drag OAKHURST to chair facing front, and
pinion his legs. PRITCHARD, C., regarding him.

Oakhurst (very coolly). You have left me my voice, I suppose, because it
is useless.

Pritchard. That's so, pard. 'Twon't be no help to ye.

Oakhurst. Then you have killed Jackson.

Pritchard. Lord love ye, no! That ain't like us, pard! Jackson's tendin'
door for us, and kinder lookin' out gin'rally for the boys. Thar's
nothin' mean about Jackson.

Soapy. No! Jackson's a squar man. Eh, Silky?

Silky. Ez white a man ez they is, pard!

Oakhurst (aside). The traitor! (Aloud.) Well!

Pritchard. Well, you want ter know our business. Call upon a business
man in business hours. Our little game is this, Mr. Jack Morton
Alexander Oakhurst. When we was here the other night, we was wantin'
a key to that theer lock (pointing to vault), and we sorter dropped in
passin' to get it.

Oakhurst. And suppose I refuse to give it up?

Pritchard. We were kalkilatin' on yer bein' even that impolite: wasn't
we, boys?

Silky and Soapy. We was that.

Pritchard. And so we got Mr. Jackson to take an impression of it in wax.
Oh, he's a squar man--is Mr. Jackson!

Silky. Jackson is a white man, Soapy!

Soapy. They don't make no better men nor Jackson, Silky.

Pritchard. And we've got a duplicate key here. But we don't want any
differences, pard: we only want a squar game. It seemed to us--some of
your old pards as knew ye, Jack--that ye had a rather soft thing here,
reformin'; and we thought ye was kinder throwin' off on the boys, not
givin' 'em any hand in the game. But thar ain't anythin' mean about us.
Eh, boys?

Soapy. We is allers ready to chip in ekal in the game. Eh, Silky?

Silky. That's me, Soapy.

Pritchard. Ye see, the boys is free and open-handed, Jack. And so the
proposition we wanter make to ye, Jack, is this. It's reg'lar on the
squar. We reckon, takin' Mr. Jackson's word,--and thar ain't no man's
word ez is better nor Jackson's,--that there's nigh on to two millions
in that vault, not to speak of a little speshil deposit o' York's, ez we
learn from that accommodatin' friend, Mr. Jackson. We propose to share
it with ye, on ekil terms--us five--countin' Jackson, a square man. In
course, we takes the risk o' packin' it away to-night comfortable. Ez
your friends, Jack, we allow this yer little arrangement to be a deuced
sight easier for you than playin' Sandy Morton on a riglar salary, with
the chance o' the real Sandy poppin' in upon ye any night.

Oakkurst. It's a lie. Sandy is dead.

Pritchard. In course, in course; that is your little game! But we
kalkilated, Jack, even on that, on yer bein' rambunktious and contrary;
and so we went ter Red Gulch, and found Sandy. Ye know I take a kind o'
interest in Sandy: he's the second husband of my wife, the woman you run
away with, pard. But thar's nothin' mean about me! eh, boys?

Silky. No! he's the forgivingest kind of a man, is Pritchard.

Soapy. That's so, Silky.

Pritchard. And, thinkin' ye might be dubious, we filled Sandy about
full o' rye whiskey, and brought him along; and one of our pards is
preambulatin' the streets with him, ready to bring him on call.

Oakhurst. It's a lie, Pritchard,--a cowardly lie!

Pritchard. Is it? Hush!

Sandy (without, singing),--


     Oh, yer's yer Sandy Morton,
           Drink him down!
     Oh, yer's yer Sandy Morton,
           Drink him down!
     Oh, yer's yer Sandy Morton,
           All alive and just a-snortin'!
     Oh, yer's yer Sandy Morton,
           Drink him down!


Pritchard. We don't propose to run him in yer, cept we're took, or yer
unaccommodatin' to the boys.

Oakhurst. And if I refuse?

Pritchard. Why, we'll take what we can get; and we'll leave Sandy Morton
with you yer, to sorter alleviate the old man's feelin's over the loss
of his money. There's nothin' mean about us; no! eh, boys? (Going toward
safe.)

Oakhurst. Hear me a moment, Henry Pritchard. (PRITCHARD stops abreast
of OAKHURST.) Four years ago you were assaulted in the Arcade Saloon in
Sacramento. You would have been killed, but your assailant suddenly fell
dead by a pistol-shot fired from some unknown hand. I stood twenty feet
from you with folded arms; but that shot was fired by me,--me, Henry
Pritchard,--through my clothes, from a derringer hidden in my waistcoat!
Understand me, I do not ask your gratitude now. But that pistol is in my
right hand, and now covers you. Make a single motion,--of a muscle,--and
it is your last.

Pritchard (motionless, but excitedly). You dare not fire! No, dare not!
A shot here will bring my pal and Sandy Morton to confront you. You will
have killed me to save exposure, have added murder to imposture! You
have no witness to this attempt!

Capper (opening door of room L., at the same moment that two policemen
appear at door C., and two at room R). You are wrong: he has five
(crossing to SILKY and SOAPY, and laying his hands on their shoulders);
and, if I mistake not, he has two more in these gentlemen, whom I
know, and who will be quite as willing to furnish the necessary State's
evidence of the robbery, as of the fact that they never knew any other
Alexander Morton than the gentleman who sits in that chair.

Soapy. That's so, Silky.

Silky. That's so, Soapy.

Capper (to policemen). Take them away.

[Exit policemen with PRITCHARD, SOAPY, and SILKY. CAPPER unbinds
OAKHURST.

Oakhurst. Then I have to thank you, Mr. C.

Capper. Yes! "A man of ridiculous theories, but well-meaning, brave, and
honest." No, sir; don't apologize: you were right, Mr. Oakhurst. It is
I who owe you an apology. I came here, believing YOU were the
robber, having no faith in you or your reformation, expecting,--yes,
sir,--hoping, to detect you in the act. Hear me! From the hour you first
entered the bank, I have shadowed your every movement, I have been the
silent witness of all that has passed in this room. You have played a
desperate game, Mr. Oakhurst; but I'll see you through it. If you are
true to your resolve, for the next six days, I will hold these wretches
silent. I will protect your imposture with the strong arm of the law. I
don't like YOUR theories, sir; but I believe you to be well-meaning, and
I know you to be brave and honest.

Oakhurst (grasping his hand). I shall not forget this. But Sandy--

Capper. I will put my men on his track, and have him brought quietly
here. I can give you no aid beyond that. As an honorable man, I need not
tell you your duty. Settle it with him as best you can.

Oakhurst. You are right; I WILL see him. (Aside.) Unless he has changed,
he will listen to me, he will obey me.

Capper. Hush! (Blows out candle.) Stand here!

CAPPER and OAKHURST retreat to wing L., as enter MORTON, sen., from room
R.

Morton. The private door open, the room dark, and Capper gone. I don't
like this. The more I think of the mystery of that man's manner this
morning, the more it seems to hide some terrible secret I must fathom!
There are matches here. (Strikes a light, as CAPPER draws OAKHURST,
struggling, back into shadow.) What's this? (Picking up key.) The key of
the vault. A chair overturned. (Touches bell.) No answer! Jackson gone!
My God! A terrible suspicion haunts me! No. Hush! (Retreats to private
room R., as door of L. opens and--)

Enter SANDY.

Sandy (drunkenly). Shoo! Shoo! boys, whar are ye, boys, eh? Pritchard,
Silky, Soapy! Whar are ye, boys?

Morton (aside). A crime has been committed, and here is one of the
gang. God has delivered him in my hands. (Draws revolver, and fires, as
OAKHURST breaks from CAPPER, and strikes up MORTON'S pistol. CAPPER at
same moment seizes SANDY, and drags him in room L. MORTON and OAKHURST
struggle to centre.)

Morton (relaxing hold of OAKHURST). Alexander! Good God! Why are you
here? Why have you stepped between me and retribution? You hesitate. God
in heaven! Speak, Alexander, my son, speak for God's sake! Tell me--tell
me that this detective's suspicions are not true. Tell me that you are
not--not--no, I cannot say it. Speak, Alexander Morton, I command you!
Who is this man you have saved? Is it--is it--your accomplice?

Oakhurst (sinking at his feet). Don't ask me! You know not what you ask!
I implore you--

Capper (appearing quietly from room L., and locking the door behind
him). Your son has acted under MY orders. The man he has saved, as he
has saved you, was a decoy,--one of my policemen.

TABLEAU.

CAPPER, MORTON, OAKHURST.

Curtain.

END OF ACT III.



ACT IV.


SCENE 1.--MR. MORTON'S villa, Russian Hill, Night. OAKHURST'S bedroom.
Sofa in alcove C., door in flat left of C. SANDY MORTON discovered,
unconscious, lying on sofa; OAKHURST standing at his head, two policemen
at his feet. Candles on table L.

Oakhurst. That will do. You are sure he was unconscious as you brought
him in?

First Policeman. Sure, sir? He hasn't known anything since we picked him
up on the sidewalk outside the bank.

Oakhurst. Good! You have fulfilled your orders well, and your chief
shall know it. Go now. Be as cautious in going out as you were
on entering. Here is the private staircase. (Opens door L.) [Exit
policeman.

Oakhurst (listening). Gone! and without disturbing any one. So far, luck
has befriended me. He will sleep to-night beneath his father's roof. His
father! umph! would the old man recognize him here? Would he take to his
heart this drunken outcast, picked from the gutters of the street, and
brought here by the strong arm of the law? Hush! (A knock without.) Ah,
it is the colonel: he is prompt to the hour. (Opens door cautiously, and
admits COL. STARBOTTLE.)

Starbottle (looking around, and overlooking SANDY). I presume the
other--er--principal is not yet on the ground?

Oakhurst (motioning to sofa). He IS!

Starbottle (starting as he looks towards sofa). Ged, you don't mean to
say it's all OVER, without witnesses, without my--er--presence?

Oakhurst. Pardon me, Col. Starbottle; but, if you look again, you will
perceive that the gentleman is only drunk.

Starbottle. Eh? Ged! not uncommon, sir, not uncommon! I remember
singular incident at--er--Louisville in '47. Old Judge Tollim--know old
Judge Tolly?--Ged! he came to ground drunk, sir; couldn't stand! Demn
me, sir, had to put him into position with kitchen poker down his back,
and two sections of lightning-rod in his--er--trousers, demn me!
Firm, sir, firm, you understand, here (striking his breast), but--here
(striking his legs)--er--er--wobbly! No, sir! Intoxication of principal
not a bar, sir, to personal satisfaction! (Goes towards sofa with
eyeglass.) Good Ged! why, it's Diego! (Returning stifly to OAKHURST.)
Excuse me, sir, but this is a case in which I cannot act. Cannot,
sir,--impossible! absurd! pre--post--or--ous! I recogmze in
the--er--inebriated menial on yonder sofa a person, sir, who, having
already declined my personal challenge, is--er--excluded from the
consideration of gentlemen. The person who lies there, sir, is Diego,--a
menial of Don Jose Castro,---alias "Sandy," the vagabond of Red Gulch.

Oakhurst. You have omitted one title, his true one. He is Alexander
Morton, the son of the master of this house.

Starbottle (starting in bewilderment). Alexander Morton! (Aside.) Ged!
my first suspicions were correct. Star, you have lost the opportunity
of making your fortune as a scoundrel; but you have at a pecuniary
sacrifice, preserved your honor.

Oakhurst. Yes. Hear me, Col. Starbottle. I have summoned you here
to-night, as I have already intimated, on an affair of honor. I have
sought you as my father's legal counsel, as a disinterested witness, as
a gentleman of honor. The man who lies before you was once my friend and
partner. I have wronged him doubly. As his partner, I ran away with the
woman he believed, and still believes, to be his wife; as his friend,
I have for a twelvemonth kept him from the enjoyment of his home, his
patrimony, by a shameful deception. I have summoned you to-night to
witness my confession; as a lawyer, to arrange those details necessary
to restore to him his property; as a man of honor, to receive from me
whatever retribution he demands. You will be a witness to our
interview. Whatever befalls me here, you will explain to Mr. Morton--to
Jovita--that I accepted it as a man, and did not avoid, here or
elsewhere, the penalty of my crime. (Folding his arms.)

Slarbottle. Umph! The case is, as you say, a delicate one, but
not--not--peculiar. No, sir! Ged, sir, I remember Tom Marshall--know Tom
Marshall of Kentucky?--said to me, "Star!"--always calls me Star,--"how
in blank, sir, can you remember the REAL names of your clients?"--"Why,"
says I, "Tom," always called him Tom,--"yesterday I was called to make
will--most distinguished family of Virginia--as lawyer and gentleman,
you understand: can't mention name. Waited for signature--most
distinguished name: Ged, sir, man signed Bloggins,--Peter Bloggins.
Fact, demme! 'Mistake,' I said,--'excitement; exaltation of fever. Non
compos. Compose yourself, Bob.'--'Star,' he said,--always called me
Star,--'for forty-seven years I have been an impostor!'--his very words,
sir. 'I am not'--you understand: 'I AM Peter Bloggins!'"

Oakhurst. But, my dear colonel, I--

Starbottle (loftily). Say no more, sir! I accept the--er position. Let
us see! The gentleman will, on recognition, probably make a personal
attack. You are armed. Ah, no? Umph! On reflection I would not permit
him to strike a single blow: I would anticipate it. It will provoke the
challenge from him, leaving YOU, sir, the--er--choice of weapons.

Oakhurst. Hush! he is moving! Take your stand here, in this alcove.
Remember, as a gentleman, and a man of honor, Col. Starbottle, I trust
you not to interfere between the injured man and--justice! (Pushes COL.
STARBOTTLE into alcove behind couch, and approaches SANDY.)

Sandy (waking slowly--and incoherently). Hush, Silky! hush! Eh? Oh, hush
yourself! (Sings.)


     Oh, yer's yer Sandy Morton,
           Drink him down!


Eh! Oh! (Half sits up on couch.) Eh! (Looking around him.) Where the
devil am I?

Oakhurst (advancing and leaning over SANDY'S couch). In the house of
your father, Alexander Morton.

Sandy (recoiling in astonishment). His voice, John Oakhurst! What--ah!
(Rises, and rushes towards OAKHURST with uplifted hand.)

Starbottle (gesticulating in whisper). A blow! a single blow would be
sufficient.

Sandy (looking at OAKHURST, who regards him calmly). I--eh! I--eh! Ha,
ha! I'm glad to see--old pard! I'm glad to see ye! (COL. STARBOTTLE
lifts his hand in amazement.)

Oakhurst (declining his hand). Do you understand me, Sandy Morton?
Listen. I am John Oakhurst,--the man who has deceived your father, who
has deceived you.

Sandy (without heeding his words, but regarding him affectionately).
To think of it--Jack Oakhurst! It's like him, like Jack. He was allers
onsartain, the darned little cuss! Jack! Look at him, will ye, boys?
look at him! Growed too, and dressed to kill, and sittin' in this yer
house as natril as a jaybird! (Looking around.) Nasty, ain't it, Jack?
and this yer's your house--the old man's house--eh? Why, this is--this
is where she came. Jack, Jack! (Eagerly.) Tell me, pard, where is she?

Starbottle (aside, rubbing his hands). We shall have it now!

Oakhurst. She has gone,--gone! But hear me. She had deceived you as she
has me. She has gone,--gone with her first husband, Henry Pritchard.

Sandy (stupefied). Gone! Her first husband! Pritchard!

Oakhurst. Ay, your wife!

Sandy. Oh, damn my wife! I'm talking of Mary,--Miss Mary,--the little
schoolma'am, Jack; the little rose of Poker Flat. Oh! I see--ye didn't
know her, Jack,--the pertiest, sweetest little--

Oakhurst (turning away coldly). Ay, ay! She is here!

Sandy (looking after him affectionately). Look at him, boys! Allers
the same,--high-toned, cold, even to his pardner! That's him,--Jack
Oakhurst! But Jack, Jack, you're goin' to shake hands, ain't ye?
(Extends his hand, after a pause. OAKHURST takes it gloomily.)

Col. Starbottle (who has been regarding interview with visible scorn
and disgust, advancing to OAKHURST). You will--er--pardon me if,
under the--er--circumstances, I withdraw from this--er--disgraceful
proceeding. The condonation, by that man, of two of the most tremendous
offences to society and to the code, without apology or satisfaction,
Ged, sir, is--er--er--of itself an insult to the spectator. I go, sir--

Oakhurst. But, Col. Starbottle--

Starbottle. Permit me to say, sir, that I hold myself for this, sir,
responsible, sir,--personally responsible.

[Exit STARBOTTLE, glancing furiously at SANDY, who sinks on sofa
laughing.

Oakhurst (aside). He will change his mind in half an hour. But, in the
mean time, time is precious. (Aloud.) Sandy, come!

Sandy (rising with alacrity). Yes, Jack, I'm ready.

Oakhurst. We are going (slowly and solemnly)--we are going to see your
father.

Sandy (dropping back with bashful embarrassment, and struggling to
release his arm from OAKHURST). No, Jack! Not just yet, Jack; in a
little while, ole boy! in about six months, or mebbe--a year, Jack! not
now, not now! I ain't feelin' exactly well, Jack,--I ain't.

Oakhurst. Nonsense, Sandy! Consider your duty and my honor.

Sandy (regaining his seat). That's all very well, Jack; but ye see,
pard, you've known the old man for nigh on a year, and it's twenty-five
since I met him. No, Jack; you don't play any ole man on to me to-night,
Jack. No, you and me'll just drop out for a pasear. Jack, eh? (Taking
OAKHURST'S arm.) Come!

Oakhurst. Impossible! Hush! (Listening.) It is HE passing through the
corridor. (Goes to wing R., and listens.)

Sandy (crowding hastily behind OAKHURST in alarm). But, I say, Jack! he
won't come in here? He's goin' to bed, you know. Eh? It ain't right for
a man o' his years--and he must be goin' on ninety, Jack--to be up like
this. It ain't healthy.

Oakhurst. You know him not. He seems to need no rest (sadly). Night
after night, long after the servants are abed, and the house is still,
I hear that step slowly pacing the corridor. It is the last sound as I
close my eyes, the first challenge of the morning.

Sandy. The ol' scound--(checking himself)--I mean, Jack, the ol' man has
suthin' on his mind. But, Jack (in great alarm), he don't waltz in upon
ye, Jack? He don't p'int them feet in yer, Jack? Ye ain't got to put up
with that, Jack, along o' yer other trials?

Oakhurst. He often seeks me here. Ah--yes--he is coming this way now.

Sandy (in ludicrous terror). Jack, pard, quick I hide me somewhere,
Jack!

Oakhurst (opening door R.). In there, quick! Not a sound, as you value
your future! [Exit SANDY hurriedly R.


SCENE 2.--The same. Enter door R., OLD MORTON, in dressing-gown, with
candle.

Old Morton. Not abed yet, Alexander? Well, well, I don't blame you, my
son it has been for you a trying, trying night. Yes, I see: like me, you
are a little nervous and wakeful. (Slowly takes chair, and comfortably
composes himself.)

Oakhurst (aside). He is in for a midnight gossip. How shall I dispose of
Sandy?

Old Morton. Yes (meditatively),--yes, you have overworked lately. Never
mind. In a day or two more you shall have a vacation, sir,--a vacation!

Oakhurst (aside). He knows not how truly he speaks. (Aloud.) Yes, sir, I
was still up. I have only just now dismissed the policemen.

Old Morton. Ay. I heard voices, and saw a light in your window. I came
to tell you, Alexander, Capper has explained all about--about the decoy!
More; he has told me of your courage and your invaluable assistance. For
a moment, sir,--I don't mind telling you now in confidence,--I doubted
YOU--

Oakhurst (in feigned deprecation). Oh, sir!

Old Morton. Only for a moment. You will find, Alexander, that even
that doubt shall have full apology when the year of your probation has
expired. Besides, sir. I know all.

Oakhurst (starting). All!

Old Morton. Yes, the story about the Duchess and your child. You are
surprised. Col. Starbottle told me all. I forgive you, Alexander, for
the sake of your boy.

Oakhurst. My boy, sir!

Old Morton. Yes, your boy. And let me tell you, sir, he's a fine young
fellow. Looks like you,--looks as you did when YOU were a boy. He's a
Morton too, every inch of him, there's no denying that. No, sir. You may
have changed; but he--he--is the living image of my little Alexander. He
took to me, too,--lifted his little arms--and--and-- (Becomes affected,
and leans his head in his hands.)

Oakhurst (rising). You are not well, sir. Let me lead you to your room.

Old Morton. No! it is nothing: a glass of water, Alexander!

Oakhurst (aside). He is very pale. The agitation of the night has
overcome him. (Goes to table R.) A little spirits will revive him.
(Pours from decanter in glass, and returns to MORTON.)

Old Morton (after drinking). There was spirits in that water, Alexander.
Five years ago, I vowed at your mother's grave to abandon the use of
intoxicating liquors.

Oakhurst. Believe me, sir, my mother will forgive you.

Old Morton. Doubtless. It has revived me. I am getting to be an old man,
Aleck. (Holds out his glass half-unconsciously, and OAKHURST replenishes
it from decanter.) Yes, an old man, Aleck; but the boy,--ah, I live
again in him. The little rascal! He asked me, Aleck, for a "chaw
tobacker!" and wanted to know if I was the "ol' duffer." Ha, ha! He
did. Ha, ha! Come, come, don't be despondent. I was like you once, damn
it,--ahem--it's all for the best, my boy, all for the best. I'll take
the young rascal (aside)--damn it, he's already taken me--(aloud) on
equal terms. There, Aleck, what do you say?

Oakhurst. Really, sir, this forbearance,--this kindness--(aside) I see a
ray of light.

Old Morton. Nonsense! I'll take the boy, I tell you, and do well for
him,--the little rascal!--as if he were the legal heir. But, I say,
Aleck (laughing), ha, ha!--what about--ha, ha!--what about Dona Jovita,
eh? and what about Don Jose Castro, eh? How will the lady like a
ready-made family, eh? (Poking OAKHURST in the ribs.) What will the Don
say to the family succession? Ha, ha!

Oakhurst (proudly). Really, sir, I care but little.

Old Morton (aside). Oh, ho! I'll sound him. (Aloud.) Look ye, Alexander,
I have given my word to you and Don Jose Castro, and I'll keep it. But
if you can do any better, eh--if--eh?--the schoolma'am's a mighty pretty
girl and a bright one, eh, Aleck? And it's all in the family--eh? And
she thinks well of you; and I will say, for a girl brought up as she's
been, and knowin' your relations with the Duchess and the boy, to say a
kind word for ye, Aleck, is a good sign,--you follow me, Aleck,--if you
think--why, old Don Jose might whistle for a son-in-law, eh?

Oakhurst (interrupting indignantly). Sir! (Aside.) Stop! (Aloud.) Do you
mean to say, sir, that if I should consent to this--suggestion--that, if
the lady were willing, YOU would offer no impediment?

Old Morton. Impediment, my dear boy! you should have my blessing.

Oakhurst. Pardon me a moment. You have in the last year, sir, taught
me the importance of business formality in all the relations of life.
Following that idea, the conditions of my engagement with Jovita Castro
were drawn up with your hand. Are you willing to make this recantation
as formal, this new contract as businesslike and valid?

Old Morton (eagerly). I am.

Oakhurst. Then sit here, and write at my dictation. (Pointing to table
L. OLD MORTON takes seat at table.) "In view of the evident preferences
of my son Alexander Morton, and of certain family interests, I hereby
revoke my consent to his marriage with the Dona Jovita Castro, and
accord him full permission to woo and win his cousin, Miss Mary Morris,
promising him the same aid and assistance previously offered in his suit
with Miss Castro."

Old Morton (signing). Alexander Morton, sen. There, Aleck! You have
forgotten one legal formality. We have no witness. Ha, ha!

Oakhurst (significantly). I will be a sufficient witness.

Old Morton. Ha, ha! (Fills glass from decanter, after which OAKHURST
quietly removes decanter beyond his reach.) Very good! Aleck, I've been
thinking of a plan,--I've been thinking of retiring from the bank. I'm
getting old, and my ways are not the popular ways of business here. I've
been thinking of you, you dog,--of leaving the bank to you,--to you,
sir, eh--the day--the day you marry the schoolma'am--eh. I'll stay home
and take care of the boy--eh--hic! The little rascal!--lifted his arms
to me--did, Aleck! by God! (Incoherently.) Eh!

Oakhurst. Hush! (Aside.) Sandy will overhear him, and appear.

Old Morton (greatly affected by liquor.) Hush! eh!--of course--shoo!
shoo! (The actor will here endeavor to reproduce in OLD MORTON'S drunken
behavior, without exactly imitating him, the general characteristics of
his son's intoxication.) Eh!--I say, Aleck, old boy! what will the Don
say? eh? Ha, ha, ha! And Jovita, that firebrand, how will she--hic--like
it, eh? (Laughs immoderately.)

Oakhurst. Hush! We will be overheard! The servants, sir!

Old Morton. Damn the servants! Don't I--hic--pay them wages--eh?

Oakhurst. Let me lead you to your own room. You are nervously excited. A
little rest, sir, will do you good. (Taking his arm.)

Old Morton. No shir, no shir, 'm nerrer goin' to bed any more. Bed's bad
habit!--hic--drunken habit. Lesh stay up all ni, Aleck! You and me! Lesh
nev'r--go--bed any more! Whar's whiskey--eh? (Staggers to the table for
decanter as OAKHURST seizes him, struggle up stage, and then OLD MORTON,
in struggle, falls helplessly on sofa, in same attitude as SANDY was
discovered.)

Enter SANDY cautiously from door L.

Sandy (to OAKHURST). Jack! Eh, Jack--

Oakhurst. Hush! Go! I will follow you in a moment. (Pushes him back to
door L.)

Sandy (catching sight of OLD MORTON). Hallo! What's up?

Oakhurst. Nothing. He was overtaken with a sudden faintness. He will
revive presently: go!

Sandy (hesitating). I say, Jack, he wasn't taken sick along o' me, eh,
Jack?

Oakhurst. No! No! But go (pushing him toward door).

Sandy. Hold on: I'm going. But, Jack, I've got a kind of faintness yer,
too. (Goes to side-table, and takes up decanter.) And thar's nothing
reaches that faintness like whiskey. (Fills glass.) Old Morton
(drunkenly and half-consciously from couch). Whiskey--who
shed--whiskey--eh? Eh--O--gimme some, Aleck--Aleck, my son,--my son!--my
old prodigal--Old Proddy, my boy--gimme--whiskey--(sings)--


     Oh, yer's yer good old whiskey,
           Drink it down!


Eh? I com--mand you,--pass the whiskey!

SANDY, at first panic-stricken, and then remorsefully conscious, throws
glass down, with gesture of fear and loathing. OAKHURST advances to his
side hurriedly.

Oakhurst (in hurried whisper). Give him the whiskey, quick! It will keep
him quiet. (Is about to take decanter when SANDY seizes it: struggle
with OAKHURST.)

Sandy (with feeling). No, no, Jack, no! (Suddenly with great strength
and determination, breaks from him, and throws decanter from window.)
No, NEVER!

Old Morton (struggling drunkenly to his feet). Eh--who sh'd never?
(OAKHURST shoves SANDY in room L., and follows him, closing door.) Eh,
Aleck? (Groping.) Eh, where'sh light? All gone. (Lapses on sofa again,
after an ineffectual struggle to get up, and then resumes his old
attitude.)

(Change scene quickly.)


SCENE 3.--Ante-room in MR. MORTON'S villa. Front scene. Enter DON JOSE
CASTRO and CONCHO, preceded by SERVANT, L.

Servant. This way, gentlemen.

Don Jose. Carry this card to Alexander Morton, sen.

Servant. Beg pardon, sir, but there's only one name here, sir (looking
at CONCHO).

Don Jose (proudly). That is my servant, sir. [Exit SERVANT.

Don Jose (aside). I don't half like this business. But my money locked
up in his bank, and my daughter's hand bound to his son, demand it.
(Aloud.) This is no child's play, Concho, you understand.

Concho. Ah! I am wise. Believe me, if I have not proofs which shall
blanch the cheek of this old man, I am a fool, Don Jose!

Re-enter SERVANT.

Servant. Mr. Morton, sen., passed a bad night, and has left word not to
be disturbed this morning. But Mr. Morton, jun., will attend you, sir.

Concho (aside). So the impostor will face it out. Well, let him come.

Don Jose (to SERVANT) I wait his pleasure. [Exit SERVANT.

Don Jose. You hear, Concho? You shall face this man. I shall repeat to
him all you have told me. If you fail to make good your charge, on your
head rests the consequences.

Concho. He will of course deny. He is a desperate man: he will perhaps
attack me. Eh! Ah! (Drawing revolver.)

Don Jose. Put up your foolish weapon. The sight of the father he has
deceived will be more terrible to him than the pistol of the spy.

Enter COL. STARBOTTLE, C.

Starbottle. Mr. Alexander Morton, Jun., will be with you in a moment.
(Takes attitude by door, puts his hand in his breast, and inflates
himself.)

Concho (to DON JOSE, aside). It is the bullying lawyer. They will try to
outface us, my patron; but we shall triumph. (Aloud.) He comes, eh!--Mr.
Alexander Morton, gentlemen! I will show you a cheat, an impostor!

Enter, in correct, precise morning dress, SANDY MORTON. There is in his
make-up and manner a suggestion of the father.

Concho (recoiling, aside). Diego! The real son. (Aloud, furiously.)
It is a trick to defeat justice,--eh!--a miserable trick! But it shall
fail, it shall fail!

Col. Starbottle. Permit me, a moment,--a single moment. (To Concho.) You
have--er--er--characterized my introduction of this--er--gentleman as
a "cheat" and an "imposture." Are you prepared to deny that this is
Alexander Morton?

Don Jose (astonished, aside). These Americanos are of the Devil! (Aloud
and sternly.) Answer him, Concho, I command you.

Concho (in half-insane rage). It is Alexander Morton; but it is a
trick,--a cowardly trick! Where is the other impostor, this Mr. John
Oakhurst?

Sandy (advancing with dignity and something of his father's cold
manner). He will answer for himself, when called for. (To DON JOSE.) You
have asked for me, sir: may I inquire your business?

Concho. Eh! It is a trick,--a trick!

Don Jose (to CONCHO). Silence, sir! (To SANDY, with dignity.) I know
not the meaning of this masquerade. I only know that you are NOT the
gentleman hitherto known to me as the son of Alexander Morton. I am
here, sir, to demand my rights as a man of property and a father. I have
received this morning a check from the house of Morton & Son, for the
amount of my deposit with them. So far--in view of this complication--it
is well. Who knows? Bueno! But the signature of Morton & Son to the
check is not in the handwriting I have known. Look at it, sir. (To
SANDY, handing check.)

Sandy (examining check). It is my handwriting, sir, and was signed this
morning. Has it been refused?

Don Jose. Pardon me, sir. It has not been presented. With this doubt in
my mind, I preferred to submit it first to you.

Starbottle. A moment, a single moment, sir. While as a--er--gentleman
and a man of honor, I--er--appreciate your motives, permit me to say,
sir, as a lawyer, that your visit is premature. On the testimony of
your own witness, the identification of Mr. Alexander Morton, jun.,
is--er--complete; he has admitted the signature as his own; you have not
yet presented the check to the bank.

Don Jose. Pardon me, Col. Starbottle. It is not all. (To SANDY.) By a
written agreement with Alexander Morton, sen., the hand of my daughter
is promised to his son, who now stands before me, as my former servant,
dismissed from my service for drunkenness.

Sandy. That agreement is revoked.

Don Jose. Revoked!

Sandy (handing paper). Cast your eyes over that paper. At least you will
recognize THAT signature.

Don Jose (reads). "In view of the evident preferences of my son,
Alexander Morton, and of certain family interests, I hereby revoke my
consent to his marriage with the Dona Jovita Castro, and accord him full
permission to woo and win his cousin, Miss Mary Morris; promising him
the same aid and assistance previously offered in his suit with Miss
Castro.--ALEXANDER MORTON, SEN."

Concho. Ah! Carramba! Do you not see the trick,--eh, the conspiracy?
It was this man, as Diego, your daughter's groom, helped his friend Mr.
Oakhurst to the heiress. Ah, you comprehend! It was an old trick! You
shall see, you shall see! Ah! I am wise, I am wise!

Don Jose (aside). Could I have been deceived? But no! This paper that
releases HIM gives the impostor no claim.

Sandy (resuming his old easy manner, dropping his formality, and placing
his hand on DON JOSE'S shoulder). Look yar, ole man: I didn't allow to
ever see ye agin, and this yer ain't none o' MY seekin'. But, since yer
here, I don't mind tellin' ye that but for me that gal of yours would
have run away a year ago, and married an unknown lover. And I don't
mind adding, that, hed I known that unknown lover was my friend John
Oakhurst, I'd have helped her do it. (Going.) Good-morning, Don Jose.

Don Jose. Insolent! I shall expect an account for this from
your--father, sir.

Sandy. Adios, Don Jose. [Exit C.

Concho. It is a trick--I told you. Ah, I am wise. (Going to DON JOSE.)

Don Jose (throwing him off). Fool! [Exit DON JOSE.

Concho (infuriated). Eh! Fool yourself--dotard! No matter: I will expose
all--ah! I will see Jovita;--I will revenge myself on this impostor! (Is
about to follow, when COL. STARBOTTLE leaves his position by the door,
and touches CONCHO on the shoulder.)

Starbottle. Excuse me.

Concho. Eh?

Starbottle. You have forgotten something.

Conhho. Something?

Starbottle. An apology, sir. You were good enough to
express--er--incredulity--when I presented Mr. Morton: you were kind
enough to characterize the conduct of my er--principal by--an epithet.
You have alluded to me, sir,--ME--

Concho (wrathfully). Bully! (Aside.) I have heard that this pomposo,
this braggart, is a Yankee trick too; that he has the front of a lion,
the liver of the chicken. (Aloud.) Yes, I have said, you hear I have
said, I, Concho (striking his breast), have said you are a--bully!

Starbottle (coolly). Then you are prepared to give me satisfaction,
sir,--personal satisfaction.

Concho (raging). Yes, sir, now--you understand, now (taking out pistol),
anywhere, here! Yes, here. Ah! you start,--yes, here and now! Face to
face, you understand, without seconds,--face to face. So. (Presenting
pistol.)

Starbottle (quietly). Permit me to--er--apologize.

Concho. Ah! It is too late!

Starbottle (interrupting). Excuse me, but I feared you would not honor
me so completely and satisfactorily. Ged, sir, I begin to respect you!
I accede to all your propositions of time and position. The pistol you
hold in your hand is a derringer, I presume, loaded. Ah--er--I am right.
The one I now produce (showing pistol) is--er--as you will perceive the
same size and pattern, and--er--unloaded. We will place them both, so,
under the cloth of this table. You shall draw one pistol, I will take
the other. I will put that clock at ten minutes to nine, when we will
take our positions across this table; as you--er--happily express it,
"face to face." As the clock strikes the hour, we will fire on the
second stroke.

Concho (aside). It is a trick, a Yankee trick! (Aloud.) I am ready.
Now--at once!

Starbottle (gravely). Permit me, sir, to thank you. Your conduct, sir,
reminds me of singular incident--

Concho (angrily interrupting). Come, come! It is no child's play. We
have much of this talk, eh! It is action, eh, you comprehend,--action.

(STARBOTTLE places pistols under the cloth, and sets clock. CONCHO draws
pistol from cloth; STARBOTTLE takes remaining pistol. Both men assume
position, presenting their weapons; STARBOTTLE pompously but seriously,
CONCHO angrily and nervously.)

Starbottle (after a pause). One moment, a single moment--

Concho. Ah, a trick! Coward! you cannot destroy my aim.

Starbottle. I overlook the--er--epithet. I wished only to ask, if
you should be--er--unfortunate, if there was anything I could say to
your--er--friends.

Concho. You cannot make the fool of me, coward. No!

Starbottle. My object was only precautionary. Owing to the position in
which you--er--persist in holding your weapon, in a line with my
right eye, I perceive that a ray of light enters the nipple,
and--er--illuminates the barrel. I judge from this that you have been
unfortunate enough to draw the--er--er--unloaded pistol.

Concho (tremulously lowering weapon). Eh! Ah! This is murder! (Drops
pistol.) Murder!--eh--help (retreating), help!

[Exit hurriedly door C., as clock strikes. COL. STARBOTTLE lowers his
pistol, and moves with great pomposity to the other side of the table,
taking up pistol.

Starbottle (examining pistol). Ah! (Lifts it, and discharges it.) It
seems that I am mistaken. (Going.) The pistol WAS--er--loaded! [Exit.


SCENE 4.--Front scene. Room in villa. Enter MISS MARY and JOVITA.

Miss Mary. I tell you, you are wrong, you are not only misunderstanding
your lover, which is a woman's privilege, but you are abusing my cousin,
which, as his relative, I won't put up with.

Jovita (passionately). But hear me, Miss Mary. It is a year since we
were betrothed; and such a betrothal! Why, I was signed, sealed, and
delivered to him, on conditions, as if I were a part of the rancho; and
the very night, too, I had engaged to run away with him! And during that
year I have seen the gentleman twice,--yes, twice!

Miss Mary. But he has written?

Jovita. Mother of God! Yes,--letters delivered by my father, sent to HIS
CARE, read by him first, of course; letters hoping that I was well,
and obeying my father's commands; letters assuring me of his unaltered
devotion; letters that, compared with the ones he used to hide in the
confessional of the ruined mission church, were as ice to fire, were
as that snow-flower you value so much, Mary, to this mariposa blossom I
wear in my hair. And then to think that this man--this John Oakhurst, as
I knew him; this man who used to ride twenty miles for a smile from me
on the church porch; this Don Juan who leaped that garden wall (fifteen
feet, Mary, if it is an inch), and made old Concho his stepping-stone;
this man, who daily perilled death for my sake--is changed into this
formal, methodical man of business--is--is--I tell you there's a WOMAN
at the bottom of it! I know it sure!

Miss Mary (aside). How can I tell her about the Duchess? I won't!
(Aloud.) But listen, my dear Jovita. You know he is under probation
for you, Jovita. All this is for you. His father is cold, methodical,
unsympathetic. HE looks only to his bond with this son,--this son
that he treats, even in matters of the heart, as a BUSINESS partner.
Remember, on his complete reformation, and subjection to his father's
will, depends your hand. Remember the agreement!

Jovita. The agreement; yes! It is the agreement, always the agreement!
May the Devil fly away with the agreement! Look you, Miss Mary, I, Dona
Jovita, didn't fall in love with an agreement: it was with a man! Why, I
might have married a dozen agreements--yes, of a shorter limitation than
this! (Crossing.)

Miss Mary. Yes. But what if your lover had failed to keep those promises
by which he was to gain your hand? what if he were a man incapable of
self-control? what if he were--a--a drunkard?

Jovita (musing). A drunkard! (Aside.) There was Diego, he was a
drunkard; but he was faithless. (Aloud.) You mean a weak, faithless
drunkard?

Miss Mary. No! (Sadly.) Faithless only to himself, but devoted--yes,
devoted to YOU.

Jovita. Miss Mary, I have found that one big vice in a man is apt to
keep out a great many smaller ones.

Miss Mary. Yes; but if he were a slave to liquor?

Jovita. My dear, I should try to change his mistress. Oh, give me a
man that is capable of a devotion to anything, rather than a cold,
calculating average of all the virtues!

Miss Mary (aside). I, who aspire to be her teacher, am only her pupil.
(Aloud.) But what if, in this very drunkenness, this recklessness, he
had once loved and worshipped another woman? What if you discovered all
this after--after--he had won your heart?

Jovita. I should adore him! Ah, Miss Mary! Love differs from all the
other contagious diseases: the last time a man is exposed to it,
he takes it most readily, and has it the worst! But you, YOU cannot
sympathize with me. You have some lover, the ideal of the virtues; some
man as correct, as well regulated, as calm as--yourself; some one
who addresses you in the fixed morality and severe penmanship of the
copy-books. He will never precipitate himself over a garden wall or
through a window. Your Jacob will wait for you through seven years, and
receive you from the hands of your cousin and guardian--as a reward of
merit! No, you could not love a vagabond.

Miss Mary (very slowly and quietly). No?

Jovita. No! (Passionately.) No, it is impossible. Forgive me, Miss Mary:
you are good; a better girl than I am. But think of me! A year ago my
lover leaped a wall at midnight to fly with me: today, the day that
gives me to him, he writes a few cold lines, saying that he has
business, BUSINESS--you understand--business, and that he shall not see
me until we meet in the presence of--of--of--our fathers.

Miss Mary. Yes; but you will see him at least, perhaps alone. Listen: it
is no formal meeting, but one of festivity. My guardian has told me, in
his quaint scriptural way, it is the killing of the fatted calf, over
his long-lost prodigal. Have patience, little one. Ah! Jovita, we are
of a different race, but we are of one sex; and as a woman I know how to
accept another woman's abuse of her lover. Come, come! [Exeunt MISS MARY
and JOVITA.


SCENE 5.--The drawing-room of MR. MORTON'S villa. Large open arch in
centre, leading to veranda, looking on distant view of San Francisco;
richly furnished,--sofas, arm-chairs, and tete-a-tetes. Enter COL.
STARBOTTLE, C., carrying bouquet, preceded by SERVANT, bowing.

Starbottle. Take my kyard to Miss Morris. [Exit SERVANT.

Starbottle. Star! This is the momentous epoch of your life! It is a
moment for which you--are--I may say alone responsible,--personally
responsible! She will be naturally gratified by the--er--flowers. She
will at once recognize this bouquet as a delicate souvenir of Red Gulch,
and will appreciate your recollection. And the fact, the crushing fact,
that you have overlooked the--er--ungentlemanly conduct of her OWN
cousin Sandy, the real Alexander Morton, that you have--er--assisted
to restore the ex-vaquero to his rights, will--er--er--at once open
the door to--er--mutual confidence and--er--a continuance of
that--er--prepossession I have already noticed. Ahem! here she is.

Enter MISS MARY in full dress.

Miss Mary. You are early, Col. Starbottle. This promptitude does honor
to our poor occasion.

Col. Starbottle. Ged, Miss Mary, promptness with a lady and an adversary
is the first duty of--er--gentleman. I wished that--er--the morning
dew might still be--er--fresh in these flowers. I gathered them myself
(presenting bouquet) at--er--er--flower-stand in the--er--California
market.

Miss Mary (aside). Flowers! I needed no such reminder of poor Sandy.
(Aloud.) I thank you, colonel.

Starbattle. Ged, ma'am, I am repaid doubly. Your conduct, Miss Mary,
reminds me of little incident that occurred at Richmond, in '58. Dinner
party--came early--but obliged to go--as now--on important business,
before dessert--before dessert. Lady sat next to me--beautiful
woman--excuse me if I don't mention names--said to me, "Star,"--always
called me Star,--"Star, you remind me of the month of May."--"Ged,
madam,"--I said, "delighted, proud; but why?"--"Because," she said, "you
come in with the--er--oysters."--No! Ged, pardon me--ridiculous
mistake! I mean--er--"you come in with the--er--flowers, and go before
the--er--fruits."

Miss Mary. Ah, colonel! I appreciate her disappointment. Let us hope,
however, that some day you may find that happy woman who will be able to
keep you through the whole dinner and the whole season, until December
and the ices!

Starbottle. Ged! excellent! Capital! (seriously.) Miss Mary! (Suddenly
inflating his chest, striking attitude, and gazing on MISS MARY with
languishing eyes.) There is--er such a woman!

Miss Mary (aside). What can he mean?

Starbottle (taking seat beside her). Allow me, Miss Mary, a few moments
of confidential--er--confidential disclosure. To-day is, as you are
aware--the day on which, according to--er--agreement between parties, my
friend and client, Mr. Morton, sen.,--formally accepts his prodigal son.
It is my--er--duty to state that--er--the gentleman who has for the
past year occupied that position has behaved with great discretion,
and--er--fulfilled his part of the--er--agreement. But it
would--er--appear that there has been a--er--slight delusion regarding
the identity of that prodigal,--a delusion shared by all the parties
except, perhaps, myself. I have to prepare you for a shock. The
gentleman whom you have recently known as Alexander Morton, jun., is not
the prodigal son; is not your--er--cousin; is, in fact, no relation to
you. Prepare yourself, Miss Mary, for a little disappointment,--for--
er--degradation. The genuine son has been--er--discovered in the person
of--er--low menial--or--vagabond,--"Sandy," the--er--outcast of Red Gulch!

Miss Mary (rising in astonishment). Sandy! Then he was right. (Aside.)
The child is his! and that woman--

Starbottle. Compose yourself, Miss Mary. I know the--er--effect
of--er--revelation like this upon--er--proud and aristocratic nature.
Ged! My own, I assure you, beats in--er--responsive indignation. You
can never consent to remain beneath this roof, and--er--receive
a--er--vagabond and--er--menial on equal terms. The--er--necessities
of my--er--profession may--er--compel me; but you--er--never! Holding
myself--er--er--responsible for having introduced you here, it is
my--er--duty to provide you with--another home! It is my--er--duty to
protect--

Miss Mary (aside). Sandy here, and beneath this roof! Why has he not
sought me? Ah, I know too well: he dare not face me with his child!

Starbottle (aside). She turns away! it is maiden coyness. (Aloud.) If,
Miss Mary, the--er--devotion of a life-time; if the--er--chivalrous and
respectful adoration of a man--er--whose record is--er--not unknown in
the Court of Honor (dropping on one knee with excessive gallantry); if
the--er--measure--

Miss Mary (oblivious of COL. STARBOTTLE). I WILL--I MUST see him! Ah!
(looking L.) he is coming!

Enter SANDY.

Starbottle (rising with great readiness and tact). I have found it
(presenting flower). It had fallen beneath the sofa.

Sandy (to MISS MARY, stopping short in embarrassment). I did not know
you--I--I--thought there was no one here.

Miss Mary (to STARBOTTLE). May I ask you to excuse me for a moment? I
have a few words to say to--to my COUSIN!

STARBOTTLE bows gallantly to MISS MARY, and stiffly to SANDY, and exit
R. A long pause; MISS MARY remains seated pulling flowers, SANDY remains
standing by wing, foolish and embarrassed. Business.

Miss Mary (impatiently). Well?

Sandy (slowly). I axes your pardon, miss; but you told THAT gentleman
you had a few words--to say to me.

Miss Mary (passionately, aside). Fool! (Aloud.) I had; but I am waiting
to first answer your inquiries about your--your--child. I have fulfilled
my trust, sir.

Sandy. You have, Miss Mary, and I thank you.

Miss Mary. I might perhaps have expected that this revelation of our
kinship would have come from other lips than a stranger's; but--no
matter! I wish you joy, sir, of your heritage. (Going.) You have found a
home, sir, at last, for yourself and--and--your child. Good-day, sir.

Sandy. Miss Mary!

Miss Mary. I must make ready to receive your father's guests. It is his
orders: I am only his poor relation. Good-by, sir. [Exit L.

Sandy (watching her). She is gone!--gone! No! She has dropped on the
sofa in the ante-room, and is crying. Crying! I promised Jack I wouldn't
speak until the time came. I'll go back. (Hesitating, and looking toward
L.) Poor girl! How she must hate me! I might just say a word, one word
to thank her for her kindness to Johnny,--only one word, and then go
away. I--I--can keep from liquor. I swore I would to Jack, that night
I saw the old man--drunk,--and I have. But--I can't keep--from--her!
No--damn it! (Going toward L.) No!--I'll go! [Exit L.

Enter hurriedly and excitedly JOVITA, R., followed by MANUELA.

Jovita. Where is she? Where is HE?--the traitor!

Manuela (entreatingly). Compose yourself, Dona Jovita, for the love
of God! This is madness: believe me, there is some mistake. It is some
trick of an enemy,--of that ingrate, that coyote, Concho, who hates the
Don Alexandro.

Jovita. A trick! Call you this a trick? Look at this paper, put into my
hands by my father a moment ago. Read it. Ah! listen. (Reads.) "In view
of the EVIDENT PREFERENCES of my son, Alexander Morton, I hereby revoke
my consent to his marriage with the Dona Jovita Castro, and accord him
full permission to woo and win his cousin, Miss Mary Morris!" Call you
this a trick, eh? No, it is their perfidy! This is why SHE was brought
here on the eve of my betrothal. This accounts for his silence, his
absence. Oh, I shall go mad!

Manuela. Compose yourself, miss. If I am not deceived, there is one here
who will aid us,--who will expose this deceit. Listen: an hour ago, as
I passed through the hall, I saw Diego, our old Diego,--your friend and
confidant, Diego.

Jovita. The drunkard--the faithless Diego!

Manuela. Never, Miss Jovita; not drunken! For, as he passed before me,
he was as straight, as upright, as fine as your lover. Come, miss, we
will seek him.

Jovita. Never! He, too, is a traitor.

Manuela. Believe me, no! Come, Miss Jovita. (Looking toward L.) See, he
is there. Some one is with him.

Jovita (looking). You are right; and it is she--SHE, Miss Mary! What? he
is kissing her hand! and she--SHE, the double traitress--drops her head
upon his shoulder! Oh, this is infamy!

Manuela. Hush! Some one is coming. The guests are arriving. They must
not see you thus. This way, Miss Jovita,--this way. After a little,
a little, the mystery will be explained. (Taking JOVITA'S hand, and
leading her R.)

Jovita (going). And this was the correct schoolmistress, the preceptress
and example of all the virtues! ha! (laughing hysterically) ha!

[Exeunt JOVITA and MANUELA.


SCENE 6.--The same. Enter SERVANT; opens folding doors C., revealing
veranda and view of distant city beyond. Stage, fog effect from without.
Enter STARBOTTLE and OAKHURST, R., in full evening dress.

Starbottle (walking towards veranda). A foggy evening for our
anniversary.

Oakhurst. Yes. (Aside.) It was such a night as this I first stepped
into Sandy's place, I first met the old man. Well, it will be soon over.
(Aloud.) You have the papers and transfers all ready?

Starbottle. In my--er--pocket. Mr. Morton, sen., should be here to
receive his guests.

Oakhurst. He will be here presently: until then the duty devolves on
me. He has secluded himself even from me! (Aside.) Perhaps it is in very
shame for his recent weakness.

Enter SERVANT.

Servant. Don Jose Castro, Miss Castro, and Miss Morris.

Enter DON JOSE with JOVITA and MISS MARY on either arm. All formally
salute MR. OAKHURST, except MISS JOVITA, who turns coldly away, taking
seat remotely on sofa. COL. STARBOTTLE gallantly approaches MISS MARY,
and takes seat beside her.

Oakhurst (aside). They are here to see my punishment. There is no
sympathy even in her eyes.

Enter SERVANT.

Servant. Mr. Concepcion Garcia and Mr. Capper.

Concho (approaching OAKHURST, rubbing his hands). I wish you joy, Mr.
Alexander Morton!

Oakhurst (excitedly, aside). Shall I throw him from the window! The
dog!--even he!

Capper (approaching MR. OAKHURST). You have done well. Be bold. I will
see you through. As for THAT man (pointing to CONCHO), leave him to ME!
(Lays his hand on Concho's shoulder, and leads him to sofa R. OAKHURST
takes seat in chair L. as SANDY enters quietly from door L., and stands
leaning upon his chair.)

Starbottle (rising). Ladies and gentlemen, we are waiting only for the
presence of Mr. Alexander Morton, sen. I regret to say that for the last
twenty-four hours--he has been--er--exceedingly preoccupied with the
momentous cares of the--er--occasion. You who know the austere habits
of my friend and--er--client will probably understand that he may be at
this very moment engaged in prayerful and Christian meditation, invoking
the Throne of Grace, previous to the solemn duties of--er--er--tonight.

Enter SERVANT.

Servant. Mr. Alexander Morton, sen.

Enter OLD MORTON, drunk, in evening costume, cravat awry, coat
half-buttoned up, and half-surly, half-idiotic manner. All rise in
astonishment. SANDY starts forward. OAKHURST pulls him back.

Morton (thickly). Don't rish! Don't rish! We'll all sit down! How do you
do, sir? I wish ye well, miss. (Goes around and laboriously shakes hands
with everybody.) Now lesh all take a drink! lesh you take a drink, and
you take a drink, and you take a drink!

Starbottle. Permit me, ladies and gentlemen, to--er--explain: our friend
is--er--evidently laboring under--er--er--accident of hospitality! In a
moment he will be himself.

Old Morton. Hush up! Dry up--yourself--old turkey-cock! Eh!

Sandy (despairingly). He will not understand us! (To STARBOTTLE.) He
will not know me! What is to be done?

Old Morton. Give me some whishkey. Lesh all take a drink! (Enter SERVANT
with decanter and glasses.)

Old Morton (starting forward). Lesh all take a drink!

Sandy. Stop!

Old Morton (recovering himself slightly). Who says stop? Who dares
countermand my orderish?

Concho (coming forward). Who? I will tell you: eh! eh! Diego--dismissed
from the rancho of Don Jose for drunkenness! Sandy--the vagabond of Red
Gulch!

Sandy (passionately seizing OLD MORTON'S arm). Yes, Diego--Sandy--the
outcast--but, God help me! no longer the drunkard. I forbid you to touch
that glass!--I, your son, Alexander Morton! Yes, look at me, father: I,
with drunkenness in my blood, planted by you, fostered by you--I whom
you sought to save--I--I stand here to save you! Go! (To SERVANT.) Go!
While he is thus, I--I, am master here!

Old Morton (cowed and frightened). That voice! (Passing his hand over
his forehead.) Am I dreaming Aleck, where are you? Alexander, speak, I
command you: is this the truth?

Oakhurst (slowly). It is!

Starbottle. One moment--a single moment: permit me to--er--er--explain.
The gentleman who has just--er--dismissed the refreshment is, to the
best of my legal knowledge, your son. The gentleman who for the
past year has so admirably filled the functions of that office
is--er--prepared to admit this. The proofs are--er--conclusive. It is
with the--er--intention of offering them, and--er--returning your lawful
heir, that we--er--are here to-night.

Old Morton (rising to his feet). And renounce you both! Out of my
house, out of my sight, out of my heart, forever! Go! liars, swindlers,
confederates! Drunk--

Oakhurst (retiring slowly with SANDY). We are going, sir!

Old Morton. Go! open the doors there WIDE, wide enough for such a
breadth of infamy! Do you hear me? I am master here!

Stands erect, as OAKHURST and SANDY, hand in hand, slowly retreat
backward to centre,--then suddenly utters a cry, and falls heavily on
sofa. Both pause: OAKHURST remains quiet and motionless; SANDY, after a
moment's hesitation, rushes forward, and falls at his feet.

Sandy. Father, forgive me!

Old Morton (putting his hand round SANDY'S neck, and motioning him
to door). Go! both of you, both of you! (Resisting SANDY'S attempt to
rise.) Did you hear me? Go!

Starbottle. Permit me to--explain. Your conduct, Mr. Morton, reminds me
of sing'lar incident in '47--

Old Morton. Silence!

Oakhurst. One word, Mr. Morton! Shamed and disgraced as I am, I leave
this roof more gladly than I entered it. How I came here, you best know.
How I yielded madly to the temptation, the promise of a better life; how
I fell, through the hope of reformation,--no one should know better than
you, sir, the reformer. I do not ask your pardon. You know that I did my
duty to you as your presumed son. Your real son will bear witness, that,
from the hour I knew of his existence, I did my duty equally to him.
Col. Starbottle has all the legal transfers and papers necessary to
make the restoration of your son--the integrity of your business
name--complete. I take nothing out of this life that I did not bring in
it,--except my self-respect! I go--as I came--alone!

Jovita (rushing towards him). No! no! You shall take ME! I have wronged
you, Jack, cruelly; I have doubted you; but you shall not go alone. I
care not for this contract! You are more to me, by your own right, Jack,
than by any kinship with such as these!

Oakhurst (raising her gently). I thank you, darling. But it is too late
now. To be more worthy of you, to win YOU, I waived the title I had to
you in my own manhood, to borrow another's more legal claim. I who would
not win you as a gambler, cannot make you now the wife of a convicted
impostor. No! Hear me, darling! do not make my disgrace greater than it
is. In the years to come, Jovita, think of me as one who loved you well
enough to go through shame to win you, but too well to ask you to share
with him that shame. Farewell, darling, farewell! (Releases himself from
JOVITA'S arms, who falls beside him.)

Concho (rubbing his hands, and standing before him). Oho! Mr. John
Oakhurst--eh--was it for this, eh--you leaped the garden wall, eh? was
it for this you struck me down, eh? You are not wise, eh? You should
have run away with the Dona when you could--ah, ah, impostor!

Sandy (leaping to his feet). Jack, you shall not go! I will go with you!

Oakhurst. No! Your place is there. (Pointing to old MORTON, whose head
has sunk drunkenly on his breast.) Heed not this man; his tongue carries
only the borrowed lash of his master.

Concho. Eh! you are bold now--bold; but I said I would have revenge--ah,
revenge!

Sandy (rushing toward him). Coward!

Don Jose. Hold your hand, sir! Hold! I allow no one to correct my
menials but myself. Concho, order my carriage!

Concho. It is ready, sir.

Don Jose. Then lead the way to it, for my daughter and her husband, John
Oakhurst.--Good-night, Mr. Morton, I can sympathize with you; for we
have both found a son. I am willing to exchange my dismissed servant for
your dismissed PARTNER.

Starbottle (advancing). Ged, sir, I respect you! Ged, sir, permit me,
sir, to grasp that honorable hand!

Old Morton (excitedly). He is right, my partner. What have I done!
The house of Morton & Son dissolved. The man known as my partner--a
fugitive! No, Alexander!

Starbottle. One moment--a single moment! As a lawyer, permit me to
say, sir, that the whole complication may be settled, sir, by
the--er--addition of--er--single letter! The house of Morton & Son shall
hereafter read Morton & Sons. The papers for the legal adoption of Mr.
Oakhurst are--er--in my pocket.

Old Morton (more soberly). Have it your own way, sir! Morton & Sons be
it. Hark ye, Don Jose! We are equal at last. But--hark ye, Aleck!
How about the boy, eh?--my grandson, eh? Is this one of the sons by
adoption?

Sandy (embarrassedly). It is my own, sir.

Capper (advancing). He can with safety claim it; for the mother is on
her way to Australia with her husband.

Old Morton. And the schoolma'am, eh?

Miss Mary. She will claim the usual year of probation for your prodigal,
and then--

Sandy. God bless ye, Miss Mary!

Old Morton. I am in a dream! But the world--my friends--my patrons--how
can I explain?

Starbottle. I will--er--explain. (Advancing slowly to front--to
audience.) One moment--er--a single moment! If anything that
has--er--transpired this evening--might seem to you, ladies
and gentlemen--er--morally or--er--legally--or honorably to
require--er--apology--or--er--explanation--permit me to say--that
I--Col. Culpepper Starbottle, hold myself responsible--er--personally
responsible.

Capper. Concho.

Old Morton. Sandy. Miss Mary. Don Jose. Jovita. Oakhurst.

Col. Starbottle.

Curtain.





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