George M. Baker

“ Not for Jacob.
Moselle. Ho, ho! You are the deacon.
Vermont. I was. Now I'm only Vermont.
Moselle. And my daddy.
Vermont. Last night I wrastled again. I was thrown, and by a boy—my kid—from old Vermont.
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Moselle. Your son?
Vermont. You bet.
Moselle. Oh, daddy! ain't you glad?
Vermont. Glad! Why, Mosey, he's got the angel trip, by which the parson threw me.
Moselle. But ain't you glad he's found you? It must be so good to hear news from home.
Vermont. Well, Mosey, you keep quiet: I don't want the boys to know he's my son. I've told you—
Moselle. A fairy story. I understand. ”

“ Silas. So I am. What nobler mission than mine, to proclaim to a suffering world, sunk in misery by aches and torments, the advent of the wonderful cure-all that will eradicate the ills with which the body groans, from bald head to bunions? For further particulars see small bills. (Looks off R.) Ah! there's a bowlder I missed; must secure that before Foggarty's Liniment, or some other quack nostrum, defaces the fair face of nature with a lie. (Goes up run, turns.) Good-by, widow. Give the parson's benediction to the boys. ”

“ Silas. Yes. For if Vermont is your daddy, and Mother Merton your mammy, and Deacon Steele is my father, and Hannah Steele is my mother, I must belong somewhere among the boys—of the old boy.
Moselle. Why, you must be the kid—Abigal's son. Ha, ha, ha!
Silas. Abigal! (Aside.) What! Another family springing up! Oh, this is too much! Hannah Steele's young ones—Mother Merton's boys—Abigal's kid. The old Turk! I must get the old man home. ”

“ They would have believed his story to be but the wild speech of his wandering mind, had they not found in his tangled hair, mingled with dirt and blood, flakes of gold.
Vermont. Poor old chap.
Silas. With a gold-mine in his hair. Rich old beggar.
Tom. Nevada is no beggar; though no cabin is shut against him, no miner's friendly hand withheld. He will neither eat nor sleep until he has earned both food and shelter. For a willing mate in an ugly tunnel, with a steady grip and a strong arm, give me Nevada.
Nevada (outside) . Who calls Nevada? (Dashes down run, and stands C.; music pianissimo.) ”

“ Moselle. Come, come, Nevada, you need rest and quiet. (Takes his hand, and leads him into cabin.)
Nevada. Yes, little one, with you. (Music until off.)
Tom. He's safe for to-night.
Silas. Now, if some good Samaritan would take me in, I'd esteem it a favor for which I will pay liberally. (Takes bag from his breast.) Art is my mistress; but, when I get hungry, I turn my eyes from her lovely face to the ground, and dig like the rest of you. There's a little left in the bag.
Tom. You can't pay here.
Vermont. No, tender foot; but you shall bunk with me.
Tom. With you, Vermont? ”

“ 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. ”

“ Oh! you're the fairy, for you are always doing good. But where is he? I must see him.
Vermont. In my ranch.
Moselle. I'll just run down and have a peep at him,—the boy who threw the deacon—no, the fairy. Ha, ha, ha! (Runs off R. 2 E.)
Vermont. I reckon I'm a healthy old fairy.
(Enter Mother, from cabin.)
Mother. Where's Moselle?
Vermont. She's just run down to have a look at the kid—
Mother. A look at what?
Vermont (aside) . Hang it! There's a slip for the fairy. (Aloud.) She's just run down to my ranch. She'll be back in a minute. Widder, you believe that story about the creek and Mosey? ”

“ Win-Kye. All ligh'! you catchee, you clippee, you Mosee, me mosee too.
Tom (outside) . Be careful of that rock, Miss. Give me your hand. Now you're all right.
Moselle. Oh! what am I thinking of? Mother, I've brought you a visitor,—Miss Fairlee, one of our teachers, and a very dear friend of mine.
Jube. Dat's what I tole yer, de Queen ob Shebang.
(Tom and Agnes appear on run descending.)
Mother. She is heartily welcome.
Tom (on platform) . You hear that, Miss,—she speaks for us all. A rough set we miners, rough and rugged as the soil in which we search for gold ”

“ Forgery, twenty thousand dollars.
(Vermont and Jube R., Tom and Win-Kye L.)
Tom. You're a detective?
Jerden. Yes. Shall I have your help in securing this fugitive from justice?
Tom (coldly) . We're not man-hunters. Many a poor fellow, made criminal by passion or misfortune, has drifted among us to be made better by a life of hardship and privation. We ask no man's past history. If he be knave or fool, he shows his hand, and he is lost. Miner law is swift and sure. ”

“ 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 ”

“ Tom. Stopping with the widow?
Silas. No: only a chance acquaintance. She came from Vermont.
Vermont. So did I.
Silas. Did you? Then, you're the man I've been looking for.
Vermont (starts) . Eh?
Silas. My old man took it into his head about twelve years ago to start west, minin'; and we've never seen him from that day to this. Nice old fellow, the deacon, but queer. Started off without so much as a good-by, Hannah, and has been lost to his family, the church, and Switcham, ever since. But we heard from him occasionally in the shape of gold-dust to mother, but no word or clew to his whereabouts. ”

“ Win-Kye. She snapee eyes, she smilee so (grins) , she smashee me.
Moselle (outside) . Never mind me, Tom, help Agnes; my foot is on my native heath, my name's (appears on run) —
All. Mosey?
Moselle. Yes, Mosey, Moses, Moselle,—we three. Ha, ha, ha! that's me. (Runs down into Mother Merton's arms.) O you dear old soul, ain't I glad I'm home!
Mother. 'Tis a happy day for us, darling.
Moselle (breaking away) . Where's daddy?
Vermont. Right here, little one. ”

“ 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) . ”

“ Agnes, you must know my daddy. (Brings Vermont up C. from L.) Miss Fairlee, daddy; daddy, Miss Fairlee.
Vermont (bowing) . Very glad to meet you.
Agnes (offering her hand) . And I am proud to know you. Moselle is a bright scholar: she has made many friends at school, but I know the warmest corner in her heart is kept for you.
Vermont. Thank you, marm: if I can serve you, call on Vermont every time.
Jube. An' when de ole man ain't roun', jes' look dis way. I's spry, and dreffel willin'.
Win-Kye. Alle same so lookee me.
Agnes. Thank you all.
Mother. You must be hungry after your long ride. ”

“ Dick. Stephen Corliss!
Agnes. That man!
Jerden. Yes, that man. Agnes Fairlee, to win you I have plotted. I have failed, and now await my sentence.
Tom. I told you miner law was swift and sure. (Jube creeps up run, and crouches behind masking rocks.)
Jerden. I understand,—a rope, a tree, and murder. (Draws pistol.) Not for me. (Dashes up run. Jube rises before him.)
Jube (wrests pistol from him) . Dis is a private way, dangerous passing.
Jerden. Curse the luck! (Turns, and runs off L. behind cabin.)
Vermont. Not that way, man.
Tom. The ledge! the ledge!
Jube. Don't you do it. Ah! ”

“ This way, Miss Fairlee. (Exeunt Mother and Agnes into cabin.)
Jube. Come on, Win. Tote de luggage in. (Exit into cabin.)
Win-Kye. All ligh'! Schoolee-marm some punkee. (Exit to cabin.)
Moselle. Ain't she lovely, daddy? (Goes to door, turns, and looks at Tom, who stands L. C. looking at door.) Tom (puts her hand on heart, and sighs) , I'd pity you, but I'm so hungry. Ha, ha, ha! (Exit.)
(Vermont crosses, and sits on rock R., watching Tom, who stands with his eyes on door.)
Tom. Lovely? Never was a more tempting bait set before the eyes of a hungry miner to lure him back to civilization. ”

“ Tom. Then, call on me. (Stops on platform)
Moselle. Tom!
Tom. Dick, you're free. Look there! (Throws canvas down on stage: it opens, showing a mass of dirt, and nuggets of gold.)
Dick. Gold!
Jube (runs up, and picks up a nugget) . Look at dar, look at dar!
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Vermont. What have you struck, Tom?
Tom. What for ten long years has been to us a legend,—the lost mine of Nevada. See! here's the very pick he left in the hole. Detective, I cover your offer, and take your man.
Jerden. Not with stolen gold.
Tom (comes down L.) . Stolen?
Jerden. Ay, stolen. You have jumped another man's claim. ”

“ There's no knife here. (Unrolls blanket. Sitting on rock, photograph drops out.) What's this? A picture! (Looks at it, rises.) It's Agnes, Agnes Fairlee; and he, Dick, is the runaway, her lover, perhaps her husband, Fairlee? (Pulls other picture from belt.) Why, this (looks at it closely) is Dick. Put a beard on that face, and 'tis Dick the forger. I sha'n't have to go far to find him; and he and I both love the same woman. One word to that detective, he is in prison and she is free. ”

“ Betray my partner, the man with whom I have eaten and slept, dug and quarried? No, no, not for so bright a pair of eyes as yours, Agnes Fairlee.
Dick (outside) . Moselle, where are you?
Moselle (laughing) . Ha, ha, ha! Seek and find, seek and find.
Tom. Ah! I had forgotten our Moselle. She loves him; and he, villain that he is, has trifled with her. She must be protected, saved, though justice overtake him. (Darts up run.)
(Enter Jube, R. 2 E.)
Jube. Say, Tom, Thomas, whar's de fire? Say! so he's [25] off: yas, so's ole Vermont. ”

“ Dick. In my heart.
Tom. You can trust him, Nevada; and he's had such bad luck, he deserves a nugget.
Moselle. Thank you, Tom. One of these days I'll speak a good word for you with his sister.
Tom. Do I need it, Agnes?
Agnes (gives her hand) . Not with me, Tom.
Jube (R.) . Golly! see 'em parin' off. Nex' couple, slaminade. Say, tender hoof, whar's your pardner?
Silas (R.) . There don't seem enough to go round; but I'm on the lookout—
Win-Kye. Lookee out for paint. See small billies. All ligh'.
Vermont (points to gold) . Nevada, shall I gather up the dust for you? ”

“ Jerden. All right: I'll find my man without your help; but, if you should change your minds, there's a thousand dollars for the man who gives information.
Tom and Vermont (draw revolvers, cover Jerden, and speak together) . You get!
(Jerden turns, and runs up run, against Silas, who is descending.)
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Silas. Look out for paint. (Exit Jerden.) Seems to be in a hurry. (Comes down to stage.) How are you, boys? White, black, and yellow. The widow said she had an assortment of colors, and here they are. Put up your shooting-irons, gentlemen: I'm a friend of the widow's. ”

“ 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.
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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) . ”

“ Well, I guess, Mosey, dar was a yearthquake jes' flopped ober dis year camp las' night: seed it, seed it, felt de shock fro my physical cistern; an' I guess de ole man is scourin' round to kill a fatted calf or a mule.
Moselle. What are you talking about, Jube?
Jube. Mosey, brace yerself: be a man. De Book ob Rebelation am open. Abigal's son am returned.
Moselle. Who's son?
Jube. Abigal's son. Don't you know what de good Book says?
Moselle. The prodigal son, Jube.
Jube. What's de dif? what's de dif? Dat gal's son am returned to his fadder's buzzum; and you're shook. You may cry, "Hi, daddy! ”

“ 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.) ”