Nevada

(Dick comes slowly down, goes R., and sits on rock. Jerden stands beside him.)

Jube. By golly, he's took!

(Enter Vermont, R. 2 E.)

Vermont. Who's took?

Jube. Dandy Dick. He's de twenty fousan feller.

Vermont. Ah! we've a traitor in the camp. Who has done this? (Crosses to L.)

Tom (descends run). Tom Carew.

Vermont. You, Tom? (Levels pistol.) Then, take that.

Moselle (throws herself before Tom). No, daddy, not Tom. O Tom! why have you done this?

Tom. For your sake, little one: he has deceived you.

Dick. 'Tis false!

(Enter Agnes, from cabin.)

Agnes. Who's that? Ah! (Runs across stage, and falls on Dick's neck.) Richard!

Dick. Agnes!

Tom. Look there, Moselle. (Points to Dick.)

Moselle. No, no! (Throws herself into Vermont's arms.) O daddy, my heart is breaking!

(Curtain on Picture. – Tom C., points to Dick. Agnes kneeling, her arms about Dick's neck. Jerden behind them. Jube L. C., scratching his head. Mother at door L., her hands clasped, looking at Dick. Vermont with Moselle's arms about his neck L.)

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.