Lively plays for live people

Characters.

• John Lawton.
• Flossie, his young daughter.
• Herbert, his son, an outcast.
• Harvey Vance, Flossie’s accepted lover.
• Jim Rogers, alias “Pay Streak,” a rustler.
• Mollie Baker, alias “The Rocky Mountain Grouse.”
• Rachel, old family servant of Lawton’s.

Time of playing, one hour, forty minutes.

Properties.

Ring for Florence, money, architect’s plan, two pistols, dishes, towels, skillet, stove for cabin, gun, card tray, card, oranges in basket, two cots, blankets, newspaper, cartridge belt.

Costumes.

The costumes of this play are all “of the day” except the make-up of Rogers and Vance in the mountains, Act II. These are: Brown coarse overalls and blouse or roundabout. (Blue will answer, but is not right.) Cartridge belt when worn is heavy and full of cartridges; slouch hats, black or white, to taste; very heavy boots (not shoes), very dusty; overalls may be in boot tops or not; for variety, one each way will do. Vance may have very long whiskers or stubble. Pay Streak is more juvenile and may be shaven. Face very brown. Clothing greasy and smeared with clay.

Hints on Presentation.

This play has been written from mining life and hotel life as the author has actually found it, except that miners employ a very energetic and picturesque profanity which can not be reproduced in a play. One caution is necessary in the characters of “Pay Streak” and the “Rocky Mountain Grouse.” The man is not a clown and the girl is not coarse. Miners are serious people, and however ludicrous their conversation and actions may appear to outsiders, to themselves it is earnestness. A man who will stand up and die in defense of his claim must be an earnest man. The other characters need no special elucidation. Great care must be taken, in the duel scene, to use blank cartridges. Any mistake here may prove real tragedy.

BILL OF THE PLAY.

STAGE DIRECTIONS.

R. means right of the stage; C., center; R. C., right center; L., left; 1 E., first entrance; U. E., upper entrance, etc.; D. F., door in flat or back of the stage. The actor is supposed to be facing the audience.

IT’S ALL IN THE PAY STREAK.

Flossie. What am I to do? (Reads.) “Meet me at eight at the old oak by the spring.” The poor boy doesn’t know that the grove is cut down and the whole place built up with cottages. Five years since he left, and we thought he was dead. He must be desperate to come back like this and take the chance of meeting father. Poor boy! Papa is so unrelenting. Snapped Rachel up for even mentioning Herbert’s name once. And he was always Rachel’s pet. Oh, if she doesn’t find him! I ought to have gone myself, but I was afraid. He’ll think that I, too, never forgave him. (Moves nervously.) I can hardly wait till Rachel returns. If she doesn’t find him—

Enter Mr. Lawton, R.

Law. Daughter, is my paper here?

Flo. It is on the table, papa. (Law. seats by table.)

Law. Rachel is very careless lately. I always want my paper in the library. I’ve spent half the time I had to read looking for it.

Flo. I’m very sorry, papa.

Law. Florence, you don’t hold a very firm rein. The servants run the house. (Reading.)

Flo. But papa, Rachel has been here ever since I can remember. Why shouldn’t she manage? She knows everything about housekeeping much better than I.

Law. You are too easy, child. Your mother always allowed herself to be imposed on through sheer good nature.

Flo. Why, papa, nobody imposes on me. Rachel is almost a mother to me.

Law. You must be firm. It may do with Rachel, but the others—(looks up.) Why Flossie, bless me, what ails you? (Flo. wipes eyes.) I didn’t mean to scold, but really—there now, never mind. Perhaps I spoke too sharply.

Flo. Dear father, you have always been so good, but—(pause.)

Law. (Gazing at her.) But what, Flossie? Don’t mind me. I forgot that you are scarcely more than a child.

Flo. (With slight opposition.) I’m not a child. I am eighteen. I want to be treated as a woman.

Law. (Laughs.) Very well, Miss Florence Lawton, what does my young lady want?

Flo. I want—(nervously) I want a great deal.

Law. All young ladies do nowadays. A new gown, or diamonds possibly?

Flo. Can’t a woman think of anything besides dress?

Law. Some women can’t.

Flo. If mother were living and asked you something seriously, you wouldn’t treat her that way.

Law. (Rises takes her hands tenderly.) Child, there is something on your mind, speak freely. As I see you before me, I see the image of your dear mother. Flossie, when you ask, you ask for two.

Flo. Then, dearest papa, may I ask a very—very great favor? So great that—I’m afraid to ask it.

Law. (Seriously.) Why, my child, what is the matter?

Flo. (Looks at him intently.) Nothing much. (With feeling.) Dear papa—

Law. Speak out. Am I such an ogre as to frighten my own child. Why make so much ado about it? (Pause.) Florence, why don’t you speak? Has Mr. Vance been disagreeable?

Flo. (With down-cast eyes.) It isn’t Harvey—how absurd—(nervously) Oh papa, do you think that—brother Herbert—

Law. (Hardening, short pause, then with effort.) Daughter, why do you wring my heart like this? That name is forbidden in this house.

Flo. But Herbert is your son and my brother.

Law. No, I have no son and you have no brother. He disgraced us and then robbed us. He sent your mother to her grave. (With feeling.) He is dead.

Flo. But if he were not dead?

Law. I know what you mean. But he is dead to us. I had some months ago a letter from him which I burned unopened. I’ve heard enough of his pretended repentance.

Flo. Oh papa—

Law. Has he written to you?

Flo. He only begs forgiveness. He does not ask for money.

Law. Florence, I forbid you to communicate with him or speak his name. If he comes back here the prison is ready for him. Flossie, no disobedience, remember.

Flo. Where are you going, papa?

Law. To the lodge. Good-bye. (Exit Law, R.)

Flo. What can I do? My duty is to a poor, needy, erring brother as well as to my father. And papa is so hard on that point.

Enter Rachel, L.

Flo. (Breathlessly.) Did you find him, Rachel?

Rach. Yes, the poor boy was that glad to see me, he fairly hugged me.

Flo. Where is he?

Rach. He came with me.

Flo. That is dangerous, he may be seen here.

Rach. He would come. He must see you.

Flo. I wonder if I’d know him?

Rach. I’m afraid not, Miss Flossie.

Flo. Is he so changed?

Rach. He looks thin an’ tired like.

Flo. Poor Herbert! Did he ask about me or papa?

Rach. You first! The poor child was wanderin’ round like a stray sheep. He didn’t know that the old place was sold for lots. It seemed to make him sad.

Flo. Rachel, what shall we do?

Rach. Did you speak to Mr. Lawton?

Flo. Yes, and papa frightened me. He seemed so bitter—and so hurt.

Rach. I’ll tell him I think he is too harsh.

Flo. No, Rachel, leave that to me.

Rach. Then Herbie will have to wait. If you don’t mind my sayin’ it, he did act pretty bad.

Flo. But we must forgive, always, Rachel.

Rach. Land, haven’t I cried for him many’s the time. Your mother and I often spoke of him between ourselves.

Flo. Where is he now?

Rach. In the kitchen.

Flo. I’ll see him here. He shall never say that his only sister received him in the kitchen.

Rach. But the risk, Miss Florence.

Flo. Papa is at the lodge, and I expect no one this evening. How does he look, Rachel? Do you think I’ll know him?

Rach. I guess not. In fact, he’s desprit shabby.

Flo. Then we must give him some clothes. Papa has plenty, and I think they are about of a size.

Rach. Yes, I think they be. Shall I fix him up a little?

Flo. Yes, get papa’s last year’s gray suit. I’ll be there in a minute. I’ll see what money I have. (Takes out purse. Exit Rach. L.) Dear me! I’ve only a pitiful two dollars and some silver. I’ve been too extravagant.

Enter Harvey Vance, R.

Vance. Good evening, Flossie.

Flo. (Drops purse.) Oh, Mr. Vance, you startled me.

Vance. (Gallantly picks up pocket-book.) Mister Vance! You are very formal. I used to be Harvey.

Flo. (Embarrassed.) But I didn’t expect you.

Vance. Of course not. I thought I’d surprise you. (Notices her.) Why, Flossie, are you ill? You are trembling like a leaf. (Be seated, offers to help her to a seat; she gently repulses him.)

Flo. (Hesitates.) I didn’t expect you.

Vance. I don’t see why my sudden appearance should affect you that way, since we are to be married in a month.

Flo. Pardon me, Harvey. I—I think I—

Vance. (Anxiously.) My dear, you are ill! Do sit down. (She refuses as before.)

Flo. I am not ill—only—(with effort) I am cross to-night.

Vance. (Laughs lightly.) If that is all I’ll talk you into a good humor. I have the plan of our new house here. It will be the finest on the hill. I’ve had that staircase changed. I wish to see if it meets your approval. It must go to the contractors by to-night’s mail; that’s why I came.

Enter Rachel, door L., then about to withdraw suddenly.

Flo. Rachel!

Rach. Miss Florence? (Putting in head again.)

Flo. I’ll give the orders later.

Rach. Yes, Miss! (Exit.)

Vance. (Sits at table.) Sit down, Flossie. This plan has been altered since—

Flo. Harvey, please—I cannot look at the plan to-night!

Vance. Why not?

Flo. I am not in the mood. Excuse me please.

Vance. But it must go immediately!

Flo. Send it! I don’t care about the changes!

Vance. But you did care.

Flo. I don’t care now.

Vance (Anxiously.) Don’t care now? Our own house? Why, Florence!

Flo. I mean I can’t look at it now.

Vance. (Rises.) Florence, don’t you think you are just a little bit capricious sometimes?

Flo. (Nervously.) Perhaps! Why not? Must a woman smile always?

Vance. Flossie, you don’t want to see me to-night, that is plain.

Flo. Harvey, you men are so exacting. There are times when one wants to—to be let alone.

Vance. There now! We’ll not quarrel. We have never quarreled yet. I thought you’d like to see me—I mean the plan. But you don’t.

Flo. Why don’t you show it to papa? He’s at the lodge. Go and meet him.

Vance. I don’t think he is interested in it very much. But I guess I’ll try it.

Flo. (Pleased.) Oh, do Harvey.

Vance. Florence, excuse my thoughtlessness. I have intruded. I beg pardon. I see there are times when even a man’s sweetheart isn’t interested in his plans.

Flo. (Coaxingly.) Harvey, don’t be absurd.

Vance. I am not absurd. I’ve only been thoughtless, that’s all. (Going R.) Good night.

Flo. Good night. (Goes to door with him.) I’m so sorry. (Exit Vance, R.) There’s a narrow escape and what will Harvey think of me. I have actually been rude. Why, he left his plan after all! (Goes L., calls Rachel.)

Enter Rachel, L.

Flo. The coast is clear, Rachel, I actually feel guilty. If papa should return—

Rach. Shall I bring him in?

Flo. Yes, be quick. (Exit Rachel, L.) I must get him away. To think that he must be driven like a tramp from his own home.

Enter Herbert, L. He advances and then stands with down-cast look.

Flo. Oh Herbert, dear brother! (Advances toward him.) Why, Herbie, can’t you speak to me?

Herb. (Advances.) Little Flossie!

Flo. Not so little now! (Grasping both his hands, hesitates.) I thought you might kiss your sister.

Herb. Flossie, can you forgive me? (Kisses her.)

Flo. Am I not your sister?

Herb. (Admiring her.) How you have grown! and how pretty you are! Just the image of mother. (Starts, wipes away tear.) Dare I ask her forgiveness, too? I cannot look her in the face.

Flo. Oh Herbert!

Herb. What is it, Flossie? How strange you look! Where is mother?

Flo. (Takes him gently by the hand and leads him to portrait.) There!

Herb. (Looks at picture then at Flo., staggers to chair.) Dead! God forgive me, I killed her. (Buries his face in his hands.)

Flo. (With handkerchief to eyes, in broken voice.) Herbert, we must all die. She is happy now.

Herb. And I, miserable wretch, repaid her love with disobedience. I broke her heart.

Flo. (Gently takes his hand.) Brother, have you asked God to forgive you?

Herb. Yes, but my prayers are in vain.

Flo. No, God forgives, and she has forgiven. She died with your name on her lips.

Herb. (Moved.) I must go now. For months I have dwelt upon the time when I could fall on my knees at her side and ask her forgiveness. Now there is only the hard world for me. And father—

Flo. You must not see him yet.

Herb. He is still relentless? I do not blame him, but he might have written me that she was dead—

Flo. We thought—

Herb. (Looks at her.) You thought I was dead, too? I wish I had died.

Flo. Herbert, you are still young, there is time yet.

Herb. Too late. I know father too well. He never will forgive me. When I took mother’s jewels—that turned his heart to stone.

Flo. Dear brother, I will win him over if you give me time. But he must know that you have truly repented. What are you doing now?

Herb. God knows, I am trying. I have had hard luck. I came to the door like a tramp. And here I am in his clothes. I’d sooner beg than take them, but Rachel made me put them on.

Flo. But you have been earning something.

Herb. (Bitterly.) Something! Yes, fifteen dollars per month in a livery stable and sleep in the stable.

Flo. Oh Herbert!

Herb. And I lost that job three months ago. Times were so hard they couldn’t keep me.

Flo. Have you no money?

Herb. (Bitterly.) Money! and out of work so long! Florence, you don’t know the world.

Flo. I’ll give you some. But I have so little, only two dollars. Take that. (Gives money.)

Herb. (Smiling.) I suppose you’ll think I want to work the family for money. That is about all I ever did.

Flo. Nonsense, Herbie. I only wish I had more. Isn’t there some friend?

Herb. Friend! (Laughs bitterly.) Friends! Mine all quit me when my money was done.

Flo. (Suddenly.) Oh, I know of one, he’ll help you.

Herb. I haven’t a friend in the world. Who is he, Flossie?

Flo. (Hesitating.) A friend of—of the family. A good friend.

Herb. (Pause, he regards her.) A very good friend?

Flo. Yes, the noblest friend in the world.

Herb. (Smiling.) I begin to see, little sister. Going to marry him?

Flo. Yes, next month.

Herb. Lucky fellow!

Flo. And then papa will be lonely and he may—I’ll try my best.

Herb. He never will, not for years any way, if ever. Who is your friend?

Flo. Harvey Vance. You don’t know him. He is a new man who started a carriage factory here. He doesn’t even know that I have a brother.

Herb. You had better tell him, Flossie. Don’t keep anything back. He mightn’t like it if he heard afterwards from some one else.

Flo. I don’t like to speak against you.

Herb. Then just say there is a black sheep in the family. If he wants to know more, he’ll ask.

Flo. Oh, he is so honorable, he’d never ask; and he’ll help you.

Herb. I’d rather work my own way. I look pretty well in these clothes, though they are not exactly a fit. The governor is stouter than he used to be.

Flo. Papa is very well and strong.

Herb. (Laughs.) Yes, and I imagine it wouldn’t be healthy for me if he caught me here.

Flo. Oh no, and—I can’t tell you—but you must go. And you must leave town, too.

Herb. I can’t leave town on two dollars unless I tramp it. And that puts me back beyond hope. If I could only get to Chicago. Times are improving and I might get work.

Flo. How much do you need?

Herb. I couldn’t do with less than twenty dollars.

Flo. And I’ve been such an extravagant little goose. I’ve spent all my money. My jewels—

Herb. (Starting.) Jewels! My God, don’t mention jewels!

Flo. Pardon me Herbie, I forgot.

Herb. Rachel always has money.

Flo. But it is all in the savings bank. She deposited to day.

Herb. I’ll wait till to-morrow.

Flo. No, no, you must not wait till to-morrow. You must go to-night.

Herb. (Bitter feeling returning.) But why are you all so anxious to get rid of me. I’ll go soon enough.

Flo. I can’t tell you! Papa—

Herb. (Starting.) I remember now. (Bitterly.) Prison! He threatened me. No, there is no place here for me.

Flo. There is no way but the jewels. Papa gave me a necklace.

Herb. Never! I’ll never touch his money after that threat. I’ll tramp first. Perhaps he’d like to have his son a tramp. Perhaps the people of this town would like to see me further disgraced, curse them.

Flo. Herbert! Herbert, how can you speak so? But you must go.

Herb. Yes, I must go. Ha! ha! I’ll go. The governor will soon be back from the lodge and he—no I can’t say anything against him for I have wronged him too deeply. (Pause, looks at her ring.) Florence, that ring is worth one hundred dollars. I could easy get twenty on it.

Flo. But that is his ring, my engagement ring. I couldn’t part with that.

Herb. No, of course not, Flossie. Forgive me for suggesting such a thing. I’ll try to get along somehow.

Flo. Go to the next town, keep quiet, and I’ll send the money.

Herb. Everybody knows me there.

Enter Vance, R., unobserved, stops surprised.

Flo. Of course! I could meet you somewhere. (Vance surprised stops.)

Herb. That might be arranged, but where?

Flo. I’m afraid I couldn’t get away to-morrow. (Vance puzzled, moves as if to go out.)

Herb. Dear Flossie, I’ll leave it all to you. You are my only hope. (Vance struck with suspicion stops, then stands like a statue.)

Flo. Herbert, I shall never give you up, no matter what happens. I think of you night and day. (Vance hand to head with gesture of anguish.) Pshaw! this is no time for hesitation. (Takes off ring.) Take this! If he misses it I’ll make some excuse. It’s easy enough to put him off. (They go L.)

Vance. (With anguish, low tone.) Oh God! my ring!

Flo. (Turns, sees V., screams.) Oh! Mr. Vance, how you startle me! Why did you come in that way?

Vance. (In husky voice.) I startle you! Heaven help me! What have you done to me? Stabbed me to the heart.

Flo. Oh, Mr. Vance, please—

Vance. Save your words, false woman, traitress, shameless creature, you drove me away to meet him here. (Flo. totters back grasping chair. Vance advances in a furious passion.) Oh the shame! Woman! woman! (She shrinks back speechless.) I could strangle such a viper. (Drops his hands, head falls on breast.) No, I can’t strike her for I loved her. Traitress, farewell! (Flo. drops senseless.)

Herb. Help! Rachel! (Dropping on knees beside Flo., raises her head.) Coward! Wretch! You shall answer for this.

Vance. (With passionate scorn and deliberation.) Yes, I’ll answer, and I’ll kill you at sight like a dog.

Quick Curtain.

ACT. II.

Pay S. That pesky thread is enough to rile ole Job, I reckon. It takes my pard to sew on buttons. He goes at it ’sif he’d been a tailor in his time. He’s the coolest cuss in camp anyway. Wy, when we struck it rich in the “Little Lucy” lode what did he do? Jump round an’ holler an’ say, “Boys, we’ve got it bigger’n an elephant?” Nary time; jest said, “I ’low if it holds out we’re pretty well heeled.” Didn’t seem to care whether it held out or not. Bet yer boots I care. I’ve been poor as a church mouse too long not to care. What did I do when I seen the assay went $500 to the ton? Wy, I jist slipped over to ole man Baker’s place an’ asked the Grouse if she’d like to hitch. I was afraid o’ that cuss from Tenderfoot Gulch, that Lonesome Mose. He’s struck it, too. What d’ye s’pose she said? “Pay Streak, what does she go to the ton?” “Five hundred, Mollie,” sez I, awful anxious, fur I didn’t know what Mose’s assay showed. An says the Grouse, “I’ll think about it, Jim.” Called me Jim instead o’ Pay Streak. I couldn’t stand that, an’ cust if I didn’t give her a smack ’at sounded like a giant cap bustin’. She didn’t git very mad, an’ then I knowed it was good as settled. (Pulls at thread and breaks it.) Cuss that thread! I reckon that’ll hold till Mollie takes charge o’ my traps. (Lawton raps at door, with cane, R.)

Pay S. Come in, stranger!

Law. Is this Vance & Rogers’ place?

Pay S. It is; step right in; there ain’t no call to rap at any miner’s door in the Rocky Mountains, but of course you don’t know that, bein’ a tenderfoot.

Law. Oh, yes, I know that a miner’s door is always open. Are you Rogers?

Pay S. Correct y’are! Squat. (Wipes off chair with towel.)

Law. This is just as good. (Seats himself on one of logs, Pay S. on the other.) Are you the man they call Pay Streak?

Pay S. That’s my sobriquet (sobrikwet), as the editor calls it. The boys called me Pay Streak because I’ve a way o’ askin’ how wide the pay streak is when they git to talkin’ about their claims. I al’ays look at the pay streak first. A man’s the same as a mine; when ye’ve seen the width of his pay streak, ye’ve got his measure.

Law. It’s not a bad name, either.

Pay S. Becherlife it aint. Some sense in it. Now if they’d called me Lonesome Mose as they do that inexorable cuss over in Tenderfoot Gulch I’d a killed a few of them jist to change my luck.

Law. I hear you boys have struck it rich.

Pay S. Bigger’n a four-hoss team an’ band wagon, stranger.

Law. Let me see, what is your partner’s full name?

Pay S. Vance! Harvey Vance! The boys call him “Old Silence” ’cause he says mighty little an’ don’t talk no minin’ guff about his claims.

Law. Where does he hail from?

Pay S. Illinois.

Law. Where is he to-day? I believe I know him.

Pay S. (Jumping up.) What! you know my pard, stranger! Now why did ye go beatin’ round the bush? That aint a square deal! Why didn’t ye jist walk in an’ hang up yer hat? Take that there chair! No, but ye must. (Law takes chair.) We haint much hyur, but all we got belongs to any friends o’ Old Silence. Scuse me, I mean your friend Vance.

Law. Oh, that’s all right, no apologies.

Pay S. Stranger, I’m cussed glad to see you. Shake! Wy, we’ve been hyur two year and never a soul come along that was an old friend. I’ve a whole raft o’ kin in Missouri, but none of ’em drifts to this camp. You kin bet yer liver, pard’ll be glad to see ye.

Law. I hope so, it’s a good while since I saw him.

Pay S. I’ll bet my share in the Little Lucy—an’ we was offered $100,000 last week fur it—that my pardner haint any friends he’s ashamed of.

Law. No, he isn’t that kind.

Pay S. That’s straight! ye can’t tell me nothin’ about him an’ his outfit. Anything he says goes, on this hill. That’s ’cause he doesn’t say much.

Law. Where is Mr. Vance to-day?

Pay S. I was jist wonderin’ myself, when you dropped in. The gun aint gone so I ’low he isn’t far away.

Law. Could I have a short talk with him privately?

Pay S. Could you talk with him privately? Stranger, hain’t I jist said this place was your’n. When he comes I’ll vamoose quick, savvy? I ’low he’s out at the Lucy lookin’ at the truck. Pard, it’s good fur sore eyes to look at that truck, $500 to the ton.

Law. I might walk out and meet him, if you don’t object.

Pay S. Object! Stranger, really ye’re not talkin’ on the square. How could I object. Wy, the mountain’s your’n! Everything in sight is your’n!

Law. Thank you, Pay Streak! By the way, what is your full name?

Pay S. Rogers, Jim Rogers. I’ll take ye to the Lucy. No, I recken you want to see him private. (Goes to door.) Well, foller the path straight ahead about two hundred yards.

Law. Thank you, Mr. Rogers. I’ll see you again.

Pay S. Krect. (Exit Law R.) I’ll bet he’s a financer an’ wants to buy the Little Lucy. Well, he can’t. She has a pay streak wuth talkin’ about, two feet wide an’ five hundred to the ton. (Looks out.) Great guns, if they aint ladies a comin’! Wonder if they’ll stop here fur a drink o’ water or anything? I haint been in society sence I left Missouri. I’ll be shot if it aint the Grouse an’—an’ a strange lady. The Grouse is comin’ to take us by s’prise. This place is in a nice ruction fur company. Haint made my bed yet. (Runs to bed R., turns up the blankets and tries to smooth out the pillow.) That pillar’s harder’n one o’ Lonesome Mose’s flapjacks. (Hammers at pillow.) Ought ter been filled at the sawmill long ago. An’ that towel aint been washed fur a month. (Flips towel under the bed.) I’ll git one o’ Vance’s towels. (Takes clean towel out of cupboard and hangs it across chair back.) Pard’s a purty good cook but he aint in it washin’ dishes. Them plates looks tough. (Picks up plates from table, drops knife, picks that up and drops plate, which breaks.) Damn it! (Picks up pieces, throws the whole into cupboard with a bang, closes door.) Look at that skillet, an’ fried onions, too, scentin’ the whole mountain. Wher’n thunder kin I put them? I guess that’s about the place fur them. (Tosses skillet out of window.) There, I s’pose that’s the best I kin do on short notice. (Sits on log and pretends to be reading old soiled paper, rap at door.) Come in!

Enter Grouse and Flo.

Grouse. Hello, Mr. Rogers!

Pay S. Well, I’ll be—(catches himself) this is a s’prise, Grouse.

Grouse. Miss Baker if you please, Mr. Rogers.

Pay S. (Surprised.) Oh—of course! Excuse me. No offense I hope, Miss Baker.

Grouse. Mr. Rogers, let me interduce Miss Lawton. She’s travelin’ to see the mountains.

Pay S. (Bows awkwardly.) I’m awful glad to see you, Miss Lawton. You take the chair. Grouse, I reckon you’ll have to squat on a log.

Grouse. (Sitting on table.) Jim Rogers, where’s yer manners? Nicknames don’t go afore company.

Pay S. No, of course not. (To Flo.) I beg pardon, Miss Lawton, but ye see all the miners called her the Rocky Mountain Grouse, long ago when she was a little tot.

Grouse. (Making face.) Long ago! I like that. I s’pose I’m old Methusalem now.

Pay S. (Embarrassed.) Now looky hyur, Grouse—I mean Miss Mollie Baker, what ails ye? I didn’t mean nothin’. Ye’re techy as powder to-day. (To Flo.) Excuse me, Miss, but I’m a little off on talkin’ to ladies. Haint been in society sence I left Joplin, Missouri, five years ago.

Flo. Oh, don’t be formal, Mr. Rogers, I like the mountain ways.

Pay S. Wy, to be sure, the mountains is best, lots of room, lots of rocks, lots of—of everything. I say, Miss Lawton, kin I show you Little Lucy? She’s a daisy.

Flo. (Surprised.) Little Lucy! I don’t understand.

Grouse. Pay Streak, you are a greeny. What d’ye s’pose the lady knows about your lingo. (To Flo.) The Little Lucy’s a mine.

Flo. (Laughing.) I should be delighted to see Lucy but I can not to-day, thank you.

Pay S. Oh well, any day’ll do. Besides my pardner, I reckon he could talk to ye. He’s a lady’s man.

Flo. (Nervously.) Oh no! I saw the mines at Leadville. I just wanted to say that there’s a man looking for Mr.—for your partner and—

Pay S. Yes, Miss, I told him where to find him.

Flo. (Trying to appear calm.) You told him! Miss Baker, they musn’t meet.

Grouse. Now you have done it, Jim. They were lookin’ fur each other.

Pay S. Holy Moses! How did I know they was lookin’ fur each other?

Grouse. Pay Streak, have you been in the mountains five years an’ don’t know what a man means when he says he’s lookin’ fur somebody? You don’t know enough to pound sand in a rat hole.

Pay S. (Scratching his head.) Well, I don’t, ladies, an’ that’s a fact. Why cuss it! (To Flo.) Excuse me, Miss, I may haf to actooally swear afore this job’s over. But how could I know that that slick chap was lookin’ fur pard? He only said he wanted to see him.

Grouse. Well, he mustn’t.

Flo. Oh no, Mr. Rogers—I—I can’t tell you why, but they must not meet.

Pay S. (Bowing awkwardly.) Bet yer life you don’t need to tell why. When a lady says she wants a thing that’s enough fur me. I aint askin’ why. (Admiring glance at Grouse.)

Grouse. Then don’t stand like a dummy. Git a gait on an’ stop ’em afore—

Pay S. Wont I, great guns! (Gets revolver and belt from under pillow.) I’ll stop ’em if I have to take a hand in the game myself.

Flo. (Alarmed.) Oh no, Mr. Rogers! Please don’t do that!

Pay S. (Surprised.) No? Then I wont. I’ll jist argy pardner out of it; I aint much on talk, but I’m used to him.

Flo. An’ I’ll be so grateful!

Pay S. Don’t mention it, Miss. (Struck with idea.) I’ll convince pardner an’ then we’ll both convince tother chap if we have to pump him full o’ lead to do it.

Flo. Oh, not that, either. You must not do anything.

Pay S. (Puzzled.) Well, I’ll be—this is a puzzler. I give it up.

Grouse. Why don’t you go, Jim? Don’t stand there like a mud hen on a log.

Pay S. I’ll vamoose instanter, savvy? (Exits hastily R.)

Flo. Miss Baker, you’ll think this very strange.

Grouse. Not a bit, Miss. I’ve been there.

Flo. (Surprised.) But I mean—

Grouse. Never mind. Jim’ll straighten it all out. And if you don’t want to meet Mr. Vance, you’d better skip right off, fur he’s liable to turn up any minnit. There haint been no shootin’ yet or we’d heard it.

Flo. Oh, I’m so glad. I’ll go now and you wait to bring me word.

Grouse. But you may meet tother one on the mountain.

Flo. I want to meet him. One word would fix it all right. (Exit.)

Grouse. Well, I never! These fine ladies play a big game. Keeps both on the hooks till they git fightin’ mad an’ then goes tearin’ round tryin’ to make peace. Humph! Wants to meet tother one. Well, I s’pose he’s the one an’ Vance gits left. I’m awful sorry for Vance fur he’s white an’ Jim likes him awful well. (Sits on table and swings feet.) That comes o’ havin’ too many fellers at onct. I’ve been there, but I reckon I shipped Lonesome Mose jist in time. Good Lord, only think o’ Pay Streak an’ Lonesome Mose cavortin’ round the mountains lookin’ for each other. Why, it makes Jim hot fur me even to mention Mose. There’s a good deal worse than Mose, but I wouldn’t look at him beside Jim. I’ve been dreamin’ o’ Jim ever since we led the ball at Cottonwood Pass two years ago last winter. If anything ’ud happen Jim—well, the Rocky Mountain Grouse wouldn’t fly so high, that’s all. But it wouldn’t do for me to tell him all that. A little at a time kind o’ keeps a man lookin’ for more an’ then Jim’s sort o’ gone on himself an’ it would make him sassy. (Looks out.) Why, there he comes runnin’.

Enter Pay S., R.

Pay S. (Breathlessly.) Run all the way an’ back. Can’t find ’em nowhere. Where’s she?

Grouse. Gone. She’s a sly one.

Pay S. There yer off yer lead. She’ll run away up on assay.

Grouse. I didn’t mean that. She’s playin’ two suckers at onct, I guess.

Pay S. I don’t b’lieve it. That woman’s no coquette (cokwet).

Grouse. Why, she said so herself.

Pay S. No!

Grouse. Fact! But she’s had a lesson. She’s run to the end of the tether an’ she knows which ’un she’ll take.

Pay S. Then it’s my pard, sure.

Grouse. Taint nether.

Pay S. Why, tother one is old enough to be her pap.

Grouse. Don’t care if he is. Them city gals don’t care fur age. They jist look at the rocks.

Pay S. Well, pardner’ll have plenty of stuff when we git the Lucy goin’ two shifts a day. Say, Grouse, why didn’t ye mention that to her an’ say a good word fur pardner?

Grouse. Mention that! To her! Land o’ twilight! It’s a heap you know about women.

Pay S. (Puts arm round her waist.) I know they are sweeter than all creation.

Grouse. (Withdrawing.) Oh, you do, do you?

Pay S. (Shoving closer to her on table.) I mean there’s one that is ole peaches an’ honey. (Tries to kiss her.)

Grouse. (Slaps him, but not very defiantly.) Pay Streak, I al’ays thought you’d some sense.

Pay S. Bet yer boots I know a good thing. Say, I’m awful sorry for pard. I cotton to that gal.

Grouse. Indeed! Then I’d better clear the way.

Pay S. (Hastily.) I mean fur him. I believe she’s actooally good enough fur him.

Grouse. It’s no use. He is off the lead. Tother chap’s campin’ on the claim. All ye kin do now is keep him away from tother one.

Pay S. How’ll I do it? Where the deuce is pardner, anyway? He went out after breakfast an’ never said anything about goin’ away.

Grouse. We’ll fix up a scheme. I’m sort o’ sorry for her. She’s awful anxious.

Pay S. (Enthusiastically.) Yes, I’d do anything fur her.

Grouse. (Looks meaningly.) Oh, indeed!

Pay S. I mean fur your sake, Mollie. Say, it’s awful nice to call you Mollie, savvy?

Grouse. Jim, ye’re silly. Why don’t you try to think.

Pay S. I jist can’t when you are hyur. You think.

Grouse. Well, where do you guess Vance is?

Pay S. You didn’t meet him goin’ to town, so he must ’a gone over the mountain to look at the Jumbo.

Grouse. Then I’ll tell ye what to do. You take the gun an’ meet him an’ say that the jumpers are after pap’s claim again over in the basin.

Pay S. He’ll want me to go ’long then.

Grouse. Tell him you are goin’ back to camp fur more men.

Pay S. I’ll be cust! The very thing. (Gets gun.)

Grouse. An’ do hurry. I’ll wait till you come back. I’m gittin’ skeered.

Pay S. Don’t you worry. Jist let any body sass you an’ I’ll—

Grouse. Do go on, quick! (Pushes him out.) It’s downright silly the way men act about women, wantin’ to shoot and sayin’ they’ll die. Humph! An’ a woman, she can’t do nothin’ but git scart an’ cry an’ carry on. I do hope he’ll git Vance away. It serves her right, though, to git a good scare; she’ll know how it is herself. (Knocking at door, Grouse starts.) Come in!

Herbert at door.

Herb. Whose cabin is this?

Grouse. It’s Rogers & Vance’s, owners of the Little Lucy.

Herb. Is Mr. Vance around?

Grouse. He ain’t fur away, I guess. Will Rogers do? He’s jist gone. I kin call him back, but he’s in a powerful hurry.

Herb. Don’t call him, I’ll drop in again. Could you give me a drink of water?

Grouse. Certingly, come in! (Herb. steps inside, she gets dipperful of water from pail, he drinks.)

Herb. Thank you, very much.

Grouse. Don’t mention it. (Looks at him.) You’re a tenderfoot, I guess!

Herb. (Smiles.) Yes, that is, I have been in Colorado only six months. They told me of this Vance over at Dead Man’s Gulch. (Rests foot on log.)

Grouse. Did you want to see him pertickler?

Herb. Rather particular, yes.

Grouse. If it’s business, Rogers knows.

Herb. It’s a private matter. Perhaps he is at the Lucy?

Grouse. He’s most likely at the Jumbo. Take the trail straight up an’ it’s jist over the ridge.

Herb. Thank you, I’ll meet him perhaps. Good day. (Exit H., R.)

Grouse. Pr’aps ye wont. I wonder who’ll be wantin’ Vance next? He’s peaceable, I guess. Wants to buy the mine mebbe. If he had been an old man—(Pause.) Great Jerusalem! I’ll bet we’re clean off the lead, digging away in country rock. S’pose that is the feller ’at’s lookin fur Vance. That gal wouldn’t leave no young feller like Vance fur an old man. An’ I’ve told! Well, I’m a bigger fool than I said Jim was. (Runs around.) I’m excited now! This is a case, sure! Minds me of the time Slim Jim shot Club Foot Pete fur cheatin’ at kyards, when pap kep’ the tavern at Cottonwood Pass. Pap was jist reachin’ fur his gun when Pete kind o’ staggered an’ threw up his hands like that, and says he: “Baker, I’m done fur—I pass.” Them was his last words.

Enter Pay S., excitedly, R.

Pay S. I can’t find nobody nowhere!

Grouse. Pay Streak, you’re a fool!

Pay S. (Nettled.) S’pose I am, what’s the use o’ tellin’ me every five minutes.

Grouse. Cause you are, you can’t see an inch from yer nose. Wat did ye say he was an old man, fur?

Pay S. Cause he was!

Grouse. He aint ether, an’ we might a knowed it. He’s been hyur, an’ he’s a young feller.

Pay S. A young feller lookin’ fur my pardner?

Grouse. Yes, lookin’ fur him pertikler.

Pay S. When it comes to that, if there’s any fly young feller ’round this hill lookin’ fur somebody, he’ll find a man sure. Mebbe he’ll find me afore he quits. If he wants a scrap, he needn’t wear out shoe leather lookin’ fur it in Ruby Camp.

Grouse. (Seriously.) Pay Streak, don’t you take up nobody else’s rows till ye haf to. You’ll find enough o’ yer own in this world. I’ve seen more o’ these mountains than you have. Pap kep’ tavern fur years at the Pass, an’ I’ve seen shootin’ scrapes enough. I seen Club Foot Pete killed, an’ it’s an awful sight when it’s right afore yer eyes.

Pay S. I ain’t a lookin’ fur anybody.

Grouse. But what’ll we do?

Pay S. I don’t know.

Grouse. We’ve got to do somethin’.

Pay S. Well, Mollie, wat’s your idee?

Grouse. Go down to camp right away, an’ tell pap an’ git some o’ the miners out. Pretend it’s jumpers over in the Basin.

Pay S. Will you go ’long to camp?

Grouse. No, I’ll wait hyur for Vance. If he comes I’ll send him to the Basin.

Pay S. (Going.) I’ll round ’em up.

Grouse. An’ give that strange feller a tip that it ’ud be healthier fur him to take the next stage back to Dead Man’s Gulch.

Pay S. Stage! Humph! walkin’s good that direction. (Exit hurriedly R.)

Grouse. Men’s all fools, I guess. Fightin’ about claims an’ women as if there wasn’t plenty o’ both to go round. Women’s bigger fools to egg ’em on. I needn’t brag, ether. S’pose I’d drawed on Lonesome Mose a little furder, there’d been music in camp.

Enter Vance, R.

Vance. Hello, Grouse, you here!

Grouse. I guess so, ye see me, don’t ye?

Vance. I have that pleasure. (She courtsies.) You are waiting to see Jim of course. Where is that boy, anyway?

Grouse. (With toss of head.) Waitin’ fur Jim. I guess not. When I wait fur a man I wait at home.

Vance. Of course, Miss Baker, no offense.

Grouse. Where in creation have you been all mornin’?

Vance. I felt out of sorts and I went over to the mineral spring to take a good drink of that water.

Grouse. I’ll bet you are the first man in Ruby Camp that ever walked two miles fur a drink o’ water.

Vance. I like to watch the silver bubbles boiling up from the clear depths.

Grouse. Well, I don’t go much on them silver bubbles. The silver in em’s too thin. Did ye meet anybody?

Vance. (Laughs.) Yes, Lonesome Mose going to his claim. He looks lonesomer than ever, lately. (Meaning look at her.)

Grouse. Humph! Lonesome Mose! I mean, didn’t ye meet nobody at all?

Vance. Nobody else. (At stove.) Any one lookin’ for me? Where’s our skillet? I want to get dinner.

Grouse. (Impatiently.) I don’t know nothin’ about yer ole skillet. Say, Mr. Vance, did you know any young ladies in Illinois?

Vance. (Surprised.) Why, to be sure, plenty of them. (Looking.) What on earth has become of that skillet? I’m as hungry as a wolf.

Grouse. That’s like a man, he’d haf to eat if he died next minnit.

Vance. He’d die if he didn’t.

Grouse. Dyin’ with yer boots on aint so funny.

Vance. (Surprised.) Why, what do you mean, Miss Baker. You seem excited.

Grouse. (Laughs.) I aint the kind to git excited bad. (He looks inquiringly.) An’ ye don’t know any pertickler young lady?

Vance. (With serious tone.) Mollie, every man in his time has known some particular young lady. Sometimes she is too particular and sometimes not particular enough.

Grouse. I guess this un’s jist about right.

Vance. (Starting.) What do you mean, Mollie? Any lady in camp that knows me?

Grouse. (Laughing.) It ’pears so. She’s been hyur.

Vance. Here! Did she want to see me?

Grouse. No, she didn’t want to see you.

Vance. Then why the deuce did she come here! There’s some mistake. (Turns to look for skillet.) I wish Jim would let the cooking outfit alone.

Grouse. Never mind yer ole skillet. I thought mebbe you’d meet her on the road.

Vance. (At cupboard.) Jim is very careless. He has been chucking things round again.

Grouse. You’re a nice man to prefer a skillet to a young lady.

Vance. (Surprised.) Excuse me, Grouse, I thought we were good enough friends to be informal. I’ll not look for the skillet any more.

Grouse. I’m talkin’ about her. She was a bute.

Vance. Since she did not want to see me I hardly think I am interested in her beauty.

Grouse. It’s too funny that you didn’t meet anybody. They’re lookin’ fur you all over the mountain to go to the Basin. Jim said ye must go right off. The Leadville outfit is tryin’ to jump pap’s claim agin.

Vance. I don’t believe that. It must be a false report.

Grouse. But it aint! Git yer gun and take the trail. Ye kin git dinner at Jack’s cabin.

Vance. Why Mollie, Lonesome Mose was in the Basin yesterday and he says the Leadville gang have all gone.

Grouse. (With petulance.) Lonesome Mose, indeed! As if pap didn’t know better about his own claim. Would you put Mose Randall’s word up agin’ pap’s er a lady’s?

Vance. Well, Mollie, I didn’t mean to contradict you. I’ll enquire as soon as I get a bite to eat.

Grouse. An’ yer goin’ to wait to eat?

Vance. Yes, I’ll take a snack.

Grouse. Some men ’ud eat if an earthquake was comin’.

Vance. I can easily catch them before they get to Jack’s cabin.

Grouse. An’ ye wont go now? Oh do, please, Mr. Vance.

Vance. I don’t see the necessity of starving.

Grouse. I do.

Vance. Ever try it?

Grouse. Please don’t wait, Mr. Vance.

Vance. It won’t take fifteen minutes.

Grouse. Well, they’s no use tryin’ to do anything with a man—or a mule. I’ve got to do something. (Starts hastily.)

Vance. What’s the rush? Hold on, Miss Baker.

Grouse. I wont! (Exit R.)

Vance. What on earth ails the Grouse. She always was a kitten and I’m afraid she has a temper. Jim’ll have to hold a pretty steady rein. (Looking round for skillet.) I guess that skillet has taken wings. There’s Jim’s dirty towel under the bed and my clean one on the chair back. There has been some one here I guess. I wonder if any sneak thief has paid us a visit? (Looks at Jim’s pillow.) His revolver is gone. (Looks at his own cot.) Mine is all right. (Puts his pistol on table.)

Herbert knocks at door.

Vance. Hello stranger! Come in!

Herb. Is this Mr. Vance’s place?

Vance. My name is Vance.

Herb. (Advances. With meaning.) I’ve been looking for you.