ACT II.--_Interior of VERMONT'S cabin of rough logs, door C.,

window with swinging shutter L. C. mountain, wood and rocks as in ACT I.; fireplace R., with fire; stool near. Table L. C., with stools R. and L. of it. Bench R., near first entrance, on which DICK is discovered asleep, covered with a blanket. JERDEN sitting R. of table watching DICK; WIN-KYE at window, looking in; candle burning on table. Lights down._

WIN-KYE. All ligh'! Catchee man, and man he catchee: all ligh'. Jube he say 'Win-Kye watchee catchee man; no let catchee man kille man he catchee.' Gollee! me pleceman: all ligh'.

JERDEN. How he sleeps! No wonder, poor devil! These miners are any thing but sociable, when the officers of the law are to be entertained. Every cabin shut against us. Fortunately old Vermont took himself off to-night; and I've taken possession, no doubt to be turned out on his return. This beard's mighty uncomfortable. (_Takes off beard, and lays it on table._)

WIN-KYE. Ki, yi! Catchee man shabee click, no soapee, no lazor.

JERDEN. He little dreams who his captor is. Curse him! he stood between me and the dearest wish of my life; but I have him now. A rare streak of luck. I forged the check he bungled with. Like a fool, he cut and run. That was all right, for had he faced the music it might have been hot for me; but she, Agnes Fairlee, she, too, disappeared. I had risked all for nothing. But as Jerden, the detective, I have tracked him, and found her. Now let me get him away from here: she will follow, and then--(_DICK moves._) Ah! (_Hastily replaces beard._)

WIN-KYE. Catchee man flaid he catchee cold. Sh! schoolemarm. Me hoppee stick. (_Runs by door, and exit R._)

JERDEN (_rises_). Ah! who's there?

(_Enter, past window through door, AGNES._)

AGNES (_at door_). May I speak with your prisoner?

JERDEN (_bows_). I hate to refuse a lady; but my orders are, to let none communicate with him until he is placed in jail.

AGNES. In jail?

JERDEN. Still, as you seem to be a very dear friend of his--

AGNES. You will grant my request?

JERDEN. If you will give me your word he shall not escape.

AGNES. You will leave us alone?

JERDEN. Certainly.

AGNES. I give you my pledge he shall not escape.

JERDEN (_goes up_). Then, I will retire--out of hearing, but not out of sight. My eyes will still be upon him; and, if he attempts flight, a well-aimed bullet shall be the signal for my return. (_Exit past window off L._)

(_AGNES looks after him, then comes down, and taps DICK on shoulder._)

AGNES. Richard!

DICK (_starting up_). No, no, Moselle, 'tis false, false. (_Rubs his eyes._) Ah! Agnes, is it you?

AGNES. Yes, Richard. How can you sleep at such a time?

DICK. At such a time? It is the first real rest I have had for a year. Agnes, if you had skulked and hid as I have, if you had started from sleep at every sound, had trembled at the approach of every stranger, had feared an enemy would spring from every bush you passed, you would know what a blessed relief it is to feel that all is over.

AGNES (_sits on stool R. of table_). Then, why did you fly from justice?

DICK. Because I was a coward. Afraid to face that same justice, and so have suffered more torments than even her sternest sentence would have inflicted. Now I am going back to face her, and proclaim my innocence.

AGNES. Your innocence?

DICK. Have you ever doubted it?

AGNES. Yes. Your strange flight, your silence for a year, the circumstances--

DICK. Were all against me. Agnes, I am suffering for the crime of another. You knew him,--Stephen Corliss.

AGNES. Your friend?

DICK. So he called himself. You know how we became acquainted. He was a friend of the junior partner of the firm of Gordon, Green, & Co., by whom I was employed. He took a fancy to me, invited me to his rooms, insisted on my being his companion in drives, to the theatres, and in other amusements. It was at his request that I brought him home, and introduced him to you.

AGNES. I never liked him: I told you his companionship would do you no good.

DICK. You did. One day he asked me to step round to the bank, and cash a check made in his favor by Gordon, Green, & Co. It was for twenty thousand dollars. I was not surprised at the amount; as I knew he was considered a man of wealth, and had large dealings with the concern. I laughingly asked him if he was not afraid to trust me with so large an amount, to which he replied, "No: if you are not afraid to draw it." I went to the bank, agreeing to meet him at his rooms with the money. On presenting it at the bank, the teller looked at the check suspiciously, and took it to the cashier. One of the clerks whispered to me, "Look out for yourself, Dick, that check's a forgery." Forgery! I started at the word: to me it had always been a horror. I left the bank, not knowing what I was doing. I flew to Corliss's rooms: the door was locked, and on it a placard, "Gone to Europe." I turned and ran, that word "forgery" burning into my brain, through the city, out into country, as if pursued by tormenting fiends. A fever attacked me; and, when I recovered, I found myself in the hands of strangers. Then commenced my wanderings, which have ended here where they should have begun,--in capture.

AGNES. Have you never communicated with your employers, avowed your innocence?

DICK. Never.

AGNES. Why, Richard, you have acted like a madman!

DICK. Haven't I? Perhaps the word "Fool" would be better. How easily I might have cleared myself. How--Oh, well! I'm not the first man who has been wrecked on the reefs of "Might have been."

AGNES. But this man's motive? Why did he act thus?

DICK. Because he loved you. I was in the way.

AGNES. Loved me? Then, through that love I can save you.

DICK. Perhaps you can, but you shall not. I'll take my chances with the law.

AGNES. I shall return with you.

DICK. No: you must stay here in the charge of a friend, the only man I can trust,--Tom Carew.

AGNES. He your friend? Why, he betrayed you!

DICK. So he did: I forgot that. But then, he put me out of my misery, so we'll forgive him.

AGNES. You may, but I, never. I had begun to like your friend. (_TOM appears at window._) I thought him good and noble: I find him base and treacherous. I hate this Tom Carew. (_Crosses to L._)

TOM (_aside_). If you don't, you're not the woman I thought you.

DICK. Oh! Tom's a good fellow, only just now he's in love.

(_Enter TOM, door C._)

TOM (_to AGNES_). If he had no other excuse than that, he would be what you just now styled him,--base and treacherous.

AGNES. Have you not proved yourself so, betrayed your friend, deceived me?

TOM. Deceived you?

AGNES. Did you not promise to seek him I sought, to bring him to me? How have you kept your word? By betraying him to the man from whom I sought to save him. Is this a token of your boasted regard for mothers, wives, and sisters?

TOM. Hear me before you condemn. In these wild lands is a tender flower, gladdening the hearts of rough miners by its fragrance and beauty. From its coming it has been fondly cherished and tenderly cared for. Yesterday it was trampled in the dust by one who knew the fearful wrong he was committing.

DICK. Ah! The flower is Moselle.

TOM. And the despoiler you. That fact known among the miners, your life would answer for it; but, knowing there was one to whom you were very dear, for her sake I checked the first promptings of vengeance, and gave you into the hands of justice.

DICK. To save me from Judge Lynch. I see.

TOM. Whose sentence you richly deserve.

DICK. Don't be too sure of that.

TOM. Now, having saved you from Judge Lynch, it is your turn to save yourself from the detective. My horse is tied outside. Take yourself off.

AGNES. No, you must not attempt escape: his eyes are upon you. A movement, and he will shoot.

MOSELLE (_outside_). Ha, ha, ha! (_Runs in door, C._) Shoot! I guess not, when he's strapped to a tree. Hear him holler.

JERDEN (_in the distance_). Help! Help!

DICK. Moselle, what does this mean?

MOSELLE. Fun! I told you I was all ready for it; and so, while Tom held the "catchee man," as Win calls him, I gave him the benefit of a rope.

DICK. Hung him?

MOSELLE. Ha, ha, ha! No, only quartered him--under a tree.

TOM. Now, Dick, off with you. Here's my dust (_offers bag_), and the horse will carry two.

DICK. Not your dust, Tom. I'm to have a companion: who is it?

TOM (_with a glance at Agnes_). Can you ask?

DICK. I can. Moselle, will you go with me?

MOSELLE. Me?

TOM (_seizes MOSELLE and places her behind him_). Do you dare, before (_points to AGNES_) the one who has come miles to reclaim you? You know where your duty lies. Take her (_takes AGNES by the hand, and leads her up to DICK_), and away!

DICK. What! Run off with my own sister?

TOM (_staggering back to window_). Sister?

MOSELLE. His sister! Ain't this jolly! O Dick! (_Runs into his arms._) I'm just dying for a run.

DICK. Then, off we go. (_Exit door C., with arm about MOSELLE._)

TOM. His sister! (_AGNES sits L. of table, throws her arms on table, face on her arms._) Well, Tom Carew, you've struck bed-rock now, and no mistake. His sister; and there she is, grieving, because he's gone. (_Comes down R._) And she hates me. "I had just begun to like your friend." Hang it! and I, like a blamed mule, have kicked over the pan, and scattered the dust. (_Sits R. of table, puts his arms on it, looks at AGNES a moment, then puts his face down on his arms. AGNES looks up, smiling._)

AGNES (_aside_). He _is_ a good fellow: only, as Dick says, he's in love. (_TOM raises his head. She quickly drops hers, as before._)

TOM. I wish I could say something to comfort her; but no: she hates me. (_Drops as before. She raises her head._)

AGNES. How nobly he has acted, good fellow! Better than that,--he's noble! (_TOM moves. She drops her head. After a pause, both heads raised at the same time._)

AGNES (_smiling_). Have you been dreaming, Mr. Carew?

TOM. I wish I had.

AGNES. Dreaming of "the tender flower that gladdened the hearts of the rough miners," or of "the visionary woman"?

TOM. Whom I see when I look at you. And you hate me.

AGNES. No! I admire you.

TOM (_rising_). Miss Fairlee!

AGNES (_rising_). You have saved my brother from a horrible death. You have offered him the means of escape.

TOM. He will escape: my horse is swift.

AGNES. No! He is innocent of crime, so will not make the attempt. He is probably now in the hands of the detective.

TOM. But he went with Moselle.

AGNES. Yes, to free the detective.

TOM. Well, I've blundered again. And you are his sister. I never dreamed of that. Ah, if I had a sister!

AGNES. You would be very fond of her?

TOM. Indeed I should.

AGNES. Well, as you have none, and you are Dick's partner, why shouldn't you be fond of his sister?

TOM. Miss Fairlee! Agnes!--May I call you Agnes?

AGNES. Dick does, and you are his partner.

TOM. Agnes, I love you.

AGNES. And I love--

TOM (_holding out his hands_). Well?

AGNES. To have you love me. (_Walks into his arms._)

TOM (_clasping_). Oh, I've found a nugget!

(_Enter MOSELLE, C._)

MOSELLE. Lucky Tom. How much does it weigh? (_AGNES and TOM separate._) What are you doing with my teacher, Tom? Has she set you conjugating? I love--you love--or do you both love? I guess if you'd had as much of that as I had, you'd want a vacation.

TOM. Well, we've been considering Dick's case.

MOSELLE. And Dick's settled his case by giving himself up to the detective, whom he mag-nan-i-mously--that's a big word: hope I got it right--set free from the tree; and here they are.

(_Enter DICK and JERDEN._)

JERDEN (_approaching TOM threateningly_). So, you are the one with whom I am to settle.

TOM. Yes: I'm the one (_presenting pistol_), and here's the other.

JERDEN (_retreating_). Take care: that might go off.

TOM. I'm afraid it will, if you don't. Hark you, stranger! I gave Dick up under a mistake; and I'm afraid, that, when the boys find it out, you'll have hard work to get away. So, what's your figger?

JERDEN. I don't understand you.

TOM. No? And you call yourself a detective. When banks send out detectives, they want the rogue and the money. When they can't have both, they'll take one. You can't have Dick; so, what's the figger?

JERDEN. Twenty thousand dollars.

TOM. Twenty! Look here, stranger, ain't you settin' it a leetle high? There's not so much money in the whole camp.

JERDEN (_aside_). So I thought. He's mine. (_Aloud._) That's the sum. If you can't pay it, I take my man.

TOM. Never.

DICK. Oh, yes, he will! I'm a little anxious to get East, and he'll pay the travelling expenses.

TOM. Well, you are a cool one; but you just wait until I can wake up some of the boys. I shouldn't wonder--No, no. Twenty--

AGNES (_to TOM_). Don't interfere, Tom: Dick's innocent.

TOM. All right, if you say so.

AGNES. Moselle, we must go. Dick, will you walk with me? I've something particular to say to you.

DICK. If Mr. Jerden makes no objection.

JERDEN. All right. I'll follow.

DICK. Of course. (_Gives arm to AGNES, and goes to door._)

AGNES. Good-night, Tom.

TOM. Good-night, Agnes.

DICK. Agnes! Tom, you haven't--

TOM. Oh, yes, I have! Rich find. A nugget, Dick. She's mine.

MOSELLE. Yes, Dick: I caught them _mine_ing.

JERDEN (_aside_). Ah! I have a rival here.

DICK. Tom, old boy, it's glorious: you were made for each other. (_Exit with AGNES, door C._)

MOSELLE. Tom, hunt up daddy: he's lots of dust.

JERDEN. Miss Moselle, shall I attend you?

MOSELLE. You?

TOM. No: Moselle goes with me.

MOSELLE. No, Tom, you look out for daddy. Come, Mr. Jerden, I'm your prisoner.

JERDEN (_offers arm_). Prisoner?

MOSELLE (_taking his arm_). Why not? One good turn deserves another: you were mine a little while ago, now I am yours: ha, ha, ha! how you did struggle to escape!

JERDEN. Ah! that was clever. Do you know, I would like to present you with something for that?

MOSELLE. With what, pray?

JERDEN. Something ladies are fond of.

MOSELLE. Oh, do tell me quick!

JERDEN (_showing handcuffs_). Bracelets.

MOSELLE. Mercy! come along. (_Exeunt C._)

TOM. Twenty--oh, it's no use to think of it; but I must and will find a way to save him!

(_NEVADA passes window and enters door C._)

NEVADA (_excitedly_). Tom Carew, Tom, quick, rouse the boys: I've found it!

TOM. The mine?

NEVADA. Yes, yes!

TOM. Glory! Dick's free. Yes, Nevada, you've found it where, where?

NEVADA. Hush, not so loud; we must be secret, secret: while I was asleep it all came to me.

TOM. Yes.

NEVADA. I saw the narrow path my feet had made in many journeys to it, I saw the tunnel I had dug into the earth, the rocks I had blasted,--I can go straight to it. And then I saw, Tom, I saw an open vein of running gold, pouring out broad and deep. I dabbled my hands in it, dashed it over my head, and then--

TOM. O heavens! 'tis only his madness.

NEVADA. I woke.

TOM. To find it but a dream.

NEVADA. Yes, yes; but there's luck in dreams, and I shall find it. (_Shivers._) I'm cold: may I sit by the fire?

TOM. Yes, Nevada.

NEVADA (_goes and sits by fire rubbing his hands and warming them_). I like this, I like to sit before a fire: I can see faces in the fire,--her's and the little one. See the tall flame back there; that's her face, but oh so haggard and pale! She thinks I will never come; and see, there's a bright little flame dancing up towards her, just as the little child used to climb up into her lap; and there's the little one's face now, and her little fingers beckoning to me. Yes, yes, I'll come, I'll come, with the gold to make us all happy.

TOM. Poor old fellow!

(_Enter past window through door C, SILAS, his coat torn, his hat out of shape, his clothes and face daubed with dirt; paint-pot in his hand. Singing_),--

Out of the wilderness, Out of the wilderness, Ain't I glad I'm out of the wilderness.

In the classic vernacular of this benighted region, "you bet." Oh for a bottle of Busted's Balm! I'm sore from crown to heel. (_Drops pail near door R._)

TOM. Well, stranger, I should say you'd been having a rough and tumble with a grizzly.

SILAS. Wrong, stranger. Grizzly and I have been having a "go as you please," and I'm several laps ahead.

TOM. Where did you strike him?

SILAS. Strike him! Do you s'pose I'm such a fool as to tackle a grizzly with his war-paint on? I struck for home: I never had such a longing for the dearest spot on earth in all my life. You see, stranger, I started out to do a little embalming for the balm: your friend Vermont's hospitality and bacon had made it necessary for me to take a little exercise. Well, I took a long constitutional, practising a little here and there with the brush, until I espied away up a bowlder,--such a bowlder for a six-sheet poster!--that seemed to offer uncommon facilities for the display of the pronunciamento.

TOM. The what?

SILAS. Oh! that staggers you, does it? Well, that's high jinks for the balm. It was the wildest spot I ever scrambled through, the hardest climb I ever attempted; but I reached it, spread the balm in gigantic letters, and was just putting a stop to it, when the earth gave way, and down I went. I didn't have time to take out my watch, but I should think it was about an hour before I stopped dropping. When I did, I found I was underground, evidently in a deserted mine. I might have taken an observation; but an ugly growl in the interior convinced me that the inhabitant of that sequestered spot was not at home for company, so I came out. A little too hurriedly for good manners, perhaps, but with a celerity that astonished me, if it didn't the grizzly. (_Sits on bench._) Whew! such a run! Excuse me, stranger, if I stretch out a bit. (_Lies on bench._) I've had enough of the balm (_yawns_) for one day, now I'm going in for a little of the balmy (_yawns_) sleep. Stop a bit. (_Raises himself._) Must look out for the dust. (_Takes bag from his breast, and places it under his head. Yawns._) Such a tramp (_yawns_) along the ravine, three miles. (_NEVADA, who has been crouching looking into the fire, raises his head, and looks at SILAS._) Then over the bowlders to where the big tree lies across (_yawns_) across the creek. (_NEVADA rises, and approaches stealthily._) Across it to the gorge, beyond (_yawns_), a good mile. (_NEVADA still nearer, agitated, glaring at SILAS. TOM seated R. of table watches him._) And then to the right (_yawns_); no, to the--(_Yawns and sleeps._)

NEVADA. He's found it! (_About to rush upon SILAS, TOM steps before him; they struggle, and TOM forces him back to door._)

TOM. Madman, what would you do?

NEVADA (_in door_). Kill him. He has struck the trail. He would rob me of my treasures, but I'll be before him. Let him dare to meet me there; let him attempt to enter, and he shall find old Nevada a giant defending his own. His river of gold! ha, ha! The old man has not lost his cunning nor his strength. (_Shaking his fist at Silas._) Beware of him! (_Exit C._)

TOM. Off again as wild as ever. (_Comes down, and looks at SILAS._) Another moment, and he'd have been at his throat. What could have moved him so?

SILAS (_moves_). Along the ravine--

TOM (_starts back_). Ah! that old story. How often have we heard it! Nevada's oft-told story in this stranger's mouth. Has he in truth, as Nevada said, struck the trail that leads to the lost mine? Has he found the clew to the mystery of years? If he has, 'tis marked, and should be found. There's a fortune for him who strikes it. A fortune would set Dick free, and make Agnes my wife. So, Tom Carew, for love and friendship try your luck, and--

SILAS (_moves and mutters_). Look out for paint.

TOM. Right, stranger. Where you left your mark, I'll look for gold. (_Exit C. and off L. VERMONT passes window, and stops in door looking after TOM._)

VERMONT. Tom Carew, I reckon, scootin' away like a cotton-tailed rabbit. Outer my ranch, too. (_Comes down._) Can't find a trace of that tender foot: he's shook me clean. (_Sees SILAS._) Thar he is. (_Sits R. of table._) Blamed if the chap ain't been underground. He's struck dirt, and it sticks to him. (_Places elbow on knee, chin on hand, and watches SILAS. JUBE appears at window._)

JUBE. Golly! dat ole man means mischief. He's jes' been trailin' arter dat ar tender hoof. What's de cunundrum? what he want? Go slow, ole man, I's watchin'.

WIN-KYE (_stealthily sticking his head in at door_). Paintee man sleepee, Vellemontee watchee, Win-Kye alle samee.

VERMONT. Sleepin' jest like a little kid, dreaming of the old mother way down East. Well I remember the time when the old boys, young then, used to think of the old folks, and long for the time to come when they should get fixed up with dust, and go home. How we did dream! and what a sorter lonesome feelin' would come over us, and then we'd get careless. They seemed so far away, till news would come that somebody we knew had passed in his checks, and was farther, farther away. (_Draws his sleeve across his eyes._)

JUBE. Golly! de ole man's crying. See de weeps! See de weeps!

VERMONT. Tender foot shall go back well fixed. I've been watching for a chance, and now's the time. (_Rises and looks about cautiously. JUBE and WIN-KYE disappear. VERMONT creeps toward SILAS. JUBE and WIN-KYE reappear as before._)

JUBE. What's de racket?

VERMONT. His bag of dust is under his head. I must have it. (_Creeps nearer, and places his hand on bag._)

JUBE. Gwine to rob him? It's all out. Can't stan' dat. Whar's dat rebolber? (_points revolver at VERMONT_) ain't goin' to be no foo' in dis yer camp.

WIN-KYE (_sees paint-pot near door_). Paintee man, blushee all light. Me paintee too. (_Takes brush, smells of it, makes a wry face._) Smelle stlong. Smelle kelosenee. (_VERMONT pulls bag away._)

JUBE. Buglery, buglery! but I's got de bead on him; jes' wait till he stows it away. (_VERMONT, on one knee, takes a bag from his breast._)

JUBE. Dat's de game: take out ob whosen's bag, and put in hisen; but--but I got de bead on him. (_VERMONT opens SILAS'S bag, and pours dust from his bag into it._)

JUBE. What's dat? Dar's some mistook. But I got de bead on him.

WIN-KYE (_with brush creeps under the window_). Me paintee, Jube, whitee, all ligh'. (_VERMONT puts back his bag, then about to restore the other under SILAS'S head; as he touches him, SILAS springs up. VERMONT rises to his feet._)

SILAS (_seizing him_). Ah! would you? (_They wrestle; and, with a trip, SILAS throws him back on stool R. of table, his back against table, draws a revolver from his hip-pocket, and points it at his head._) Yours for health.

JUBE. Now, tangle hoof jes' spoiled de fun, but he's got de bead.

VERMONT. Don't shoot: I'm your dad.

SILAS. My dad?

JUBE. Golly! de ole man's a fader. Ought to be ashamed ob hisself.

WIN-KYE. Jubee! (_Crouching, sticks brush straight above his head._)

JUBE. Well, was de matter? (_Leans down, WIN-KYE thrusts the brush into his face._)

WIN-KYE. Lookee out for paintee. (_JUBE starts back with a yell quick._)

(CURTAIN ON PICTURE.--_JUBE grasping the window-sill with both hands, his face contorted, and streaked with paint. WIN-KYE grinning. VERMONT on stool, pressed back against table SILAS'S hand on his throat, with pistol pointed, looking into each other's faces._)