Two Men of Sandy Bar

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 Well, Jack, it amounts to 'bout this: I've withdrawn my account from Parkinson's, in Sacramento, and I've got a pretty heavy balance on hand—nigh on two hundred thousand—in bonds and certificates here; and if it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.