SCENE 1.—MR. MORTON'S villa, Russian Hill, Night. OAKHURST'S bedroom. Sofa in alcove C., door in flat left of C. SANDY MORTON discovered, unconscious, lying on sofa; OAKHURST standing at his head, two policemen at his feet. Candles on table L.

Oakhurst. That will do. You are sure he was unconscious as you brought him in?

First Policeman. Sure, sir? He hasn't known anything since we picked him up on the sidewalk outside the bank.

Oakhurst. Good! You have fulfilled your orders well, and your chief shall know it. Go now. Be as cautious in going out as you were on entering. Here is the private staircase. (Opens door L.) [Exit policeman.

Oakhurst (listening). Gone! and without disturbing any one. So far, luck has befriended me. He will sleep to-night beneath his father's roof. His father! umph! would the old man recognize him here? Would he take to his heart this drunken outcast, picked from the gutters of the street, and brought here by the strong arm of the law? Hush! (A knock without.) Ah, it is the colonel: he is prompt to the hour. (Opens door cautiously, and admits COL. STARBOTTLE.)

Starbottle (looking around, and overlooking SANDY). I presume the other—er—principal is not yet on the ground?

Oakhurst (motioning to sofa). He IS!

Starbottle (starting as he looks towards sofa). Ged, you don't mean to say it's all OVER, without witnesses, without my—er—presence?

Oakhurst. Pardon me, Col. Starbottle; but, if you look again, you will perceive that the gentleman is only drunk.

Starbottle. Eh? Ged! not uncommon, sir, not uncommon! I remember singular incident at—er—Louisville in '47. Old Judge Tollim—know old Judge Tolly?—Ged! he came to ground drunk, sir; couldn't stand! Demn me, sir, had to put him into position with kitchen poker down his back, and two sections of lightning-rod in his—er—trousers, demn me! Firm, sir, firm, you understand, here (striking his breast), but—here (striking his legs)—er—er—wobbly! No, sir! Intoxication of principal not a bar, sir, to personal satisfaction! (Goes towards sofa with eyeglass.) Good Ged! why, it's Diego! (Returning stifly to OAKHURST.) Excuse me, sir, but this is a case in which I cannot act. Cannot, sir,—impossible! absurd! pre—post—or—ous! I recogmze in the—er—inebriated menial on yonder sofa a person, sir, who, having already declined my personal challenge, is—er—excluded from the consideration of gentlemen. The person who lies there, sir, is Diego,—a menial of Don Jose Castro,–alias "Sandy," the vagabond of Red Gulch.

Oakhurst. You have omitted one title, his true one. He is Alexander Morton, the son of the master of this house.

Starbottle (starting in bewilderment). Alexander Morton! (Aside.) Ged! my first suspicions were correct. Star, you have lost the opportunity of making your fortune as a scoundrel; but you have at a pecuniary sacrifice, preserved your honor.

Oakhurst. Yes. Hear me, Col. Starbottle. I have summoned you here to-night, as I have already intimated, on an affair of honor. I have sought you as my father's legal counsel, as a disinterested witness, as a gentleman of honor. The man who lies before you was once my friend and partner. I have wronged him doubly. As his partner, I ran away with the woman he believed, and still believes, to be his wife; as his friend, I have for a twelvemonth kept him from the enjoyment of his home, his patrimony, by a shameful deception. I have summoned you to-night to witness my confession; as a lawyer, to arrange those details necessary to restore to him his property; as a man of honor, to receive from me whatever retribution he demands. You will be a witness to our interview. Whatever befalls me here, you will explain to Mr. Morton—to Jovita—that I accepted it as a man, and did not avoid, here or elsewhere, the penalty of my crime. (Folding his arms.)

Slarbottle. Umph! The case is, as you say, a delicate one, but not—not—peculiar. No, sir! Ged, sir, I remember Tom Marshall—know Tom Marshall of Kentucky?—said to me, "Star!"—always calls me Star,—"how in blank, sir, can you remember the REAL names of your clients?"—"Why," says I, "Tom," always called him Tom,—"yesterday I was called to make will—most distinguished family of Virginia—as lawyer and gentleman, you understand: can't mention name. Waited for signature—most distinguished name: Ged, sir, man signed Bloggins,—Peter Bloggins. Fact, demme! 'Mistake,' I said,—'excitement; exaltation of fever. Non compos. Compose yourself, Bob.'—'Star,' he said,—always called me Star,—'for forty-seven years I have been an impostor!'—his very words, sir. 'I am not'—you understand: 'I AM Peter Bloggins!'"

Oakhurst. But, my dear colonel, I—

Starbottle (loftily). Say no more, sir! I accept the—er position. Let us see! The gentleman will, on recognition, probably make a personal attack. You are armed. Ah, no? Umph! On reflection I would not permit him to strike a single blow: I would anticipate it. It will provoke the challenge from him, leaving YOU, sir, the—er—choice of weapons.

Oakhurst. Hush! he is moving! Take your stand here, in this alcove. Remember, as a gentleman, and a man of honor, Col. Starbottle, I trust you not to interfere between the injured man and—justice! (Pushes COL. STARBOTTLE into alcove behind couch, and approaches SANDY.)

Sandy (waking slowly—and incoherently). Hush, Silky! hush! Eh? Oh, hush yourself! (Sings.)

Oh, yer's yer Sandy Morton,
Drink him down!

Eh! Oh! (Half sits up on couch.) Eh! (Looking around him.) Where the devil am I?

Oakhurst (advancing and leaning over SANDY'S couch). In the house of your father, Alexander Morton.

Sandy (recoiling in astonishment). His voice, John Oakhurst! What—ah! (Rises, and rushes towards OAKHURST with uplifted hand.)

Starbottle (gesticulating in whisper). A blow! a single blow would be sufficient.

Sandy (looking at OAKHURST, who regards him calmly). I—eh! I—eh! Ha, ha! I'm glad to see—old pard! I'm glad to see ye! (COL. STARBOTTLE lifts his hand in amazement.)

Oakhurst (declining his hand). Do you understand me, Sandy Morton? Listen. I am John Oakhurst,—the man who has deceived your father, who has deceived you.

Sandy (without heeding his words, but regarding him affectionately). To think of it—Jack Oakhurst! It's like him, like Jack. He was allers onsartain, the darned little cuss! Jack! Look at him, will ye, boys? look at him! Growed too, and dressed to kill, and sittin' in this yer house as natril as a jaybird! (Looking around.) Nasty, ain't it, Jack? and this yer's your house—the old man's house—eh? Why, this is—this is where she came. Jack, Jack! (Eagerly.) Tell me, pard, where is she?

Starbottle (aside, rubbing his hands). We shall have it now!

Oakhurst. She has gone,—gone! But hear me. She had deceived you as she has me. She has gone,—gone with her first husband, Henry Pritchard.

Sandy (stupefied). Gone! Her first husband! Pritchard!

Oakhurst. Ay, your wife!

Sandy. Oh, damn my wife! I'm talking of Mary,—Miss Mary,—the little schoolma'am, Jack; the little rose of Poker Flat. Oh! I see—ye didn't know her, Jack,—the pertiest, sweetest little—

Oakhurst (turning away coldly). Ay, ay! She is here!

Sandy (looking after him affectionately). Look at him, boys! Allers the same,—high-toned, cold, even to his pardner! That's him,—Jack Oakhurst! But Jack, Jack, you're goin' to shake hands, ain't ye? (Extends his hand, after a pause. OAKHURST takes it gloomily.)

Col. Starbottle (who has been regarding interview with visible scorn and disgust, advancing to OAKHURST). You will—er—pardon me if, under the—er—circumstances, I withdraw from this—er—disgraceful proceeding. The condonation, by that man, of two of the most tremendous offences to society and to the code, without apology or satisfaction, Ged, sir, is—er—er—of itself an insult to the spectator. I go, sir—

Oakhurst. But, Col. Starbottle—

Starbottle. Permit me to say, sir, that I hold myself for this, sir, responsible, sir,—personally responsible.

[Exit STARBOTTLE, glancing furiously at SANDY, who sinks on sofa laughing.

Oakhurst (aside). He will change his mind in half an hour. But, in the mean time, time is precious. (Aloud.) Sandy, come!

Sandy (rising with alacrity). Yes, Jack, I'm ready.

Oakhurst. We are going (slowly and solemnly)—we are going to see your father.

Sandy (dropping back with bashful embarrassment, and struggling to release his arm from OAKHURST). No, Jack! Not just yet, Jack; in a little while, ole boy! in about six months, or mebbe—a year, Jack! not now, not now! I ain't feelin' exactly well, Jack,—I ain't.

Oakhurst. Nonsense, Sandy! Consider your duty and my honor.

Sandy (regaining his seat). That's all very well, Jack; but ye see, pard, you've known the old man for nigh on a year, and it's twenty-five since I met him. No, Jack; you don't play any ole man on to me to-night, Jack. No, you and me'll just drop out for a pasear. Jack, eh? (Taking OAKHURST'S arm.) Come!

Oakhurst. Impossible! Hush! (Listening.) It is HE passing through the corridor. (Goes to wing R., and listens.)

Sandy (crowding hastily behind OAKHURST in alarm). But, I say, Jack! he won't come in here? He's goin' to bed, you know. Eh? It ain't right for a man o' his years—and he must be goin' on ninety, Jack—to be up like this. It ain't healthy.

Oakhurst. You know him not. He seems to need no rest (sadly). Night after night, long after the servants are abed, and the house is still, I hear that step slowly pacing the corridor. It is the last sound as I close my eyes, the first challenge of the morning.

Sandy. The ol' scound—(checking himself)—I mean, Jack, the ol' man has suthin' on his mind. But, Jack (in great alarm), he don't waltz in upon ye, Jack? He don't p'int them feet in yer, Jack? Ye ain't got to put up with that, Jack, along o' yer other trials?

Oakhurst. He often seeks me here. Ah—yes—he is coming this way now.

Sandy (in ludicrous terror). Jack, pard, quick I hide me somewhere, Jack!

Oakhurst (opening door R.). In there, quick! Not a sound, as you value your future! [Exit SANDY hurriedly R.

SCENE 2.—The same. Enter door R., OLD MORTON, in dressing-gown, with candle.

Old Morton. Not abed yet, Alexander? Well, well, I don't blame you, my son it has been for you a trying, trying night. Yes, I see: like me, you are a little nervous and wakeful. (Slowly takes chair, and comfortably composes himself.)

Oakhurst (aside). He is in for a midnight gossip. How shall I dispose of Sandy?

Old Morton. Yes (meditatively),—yes, you have overworked lately. Never mind. In a day or two more you shall have a vacation, sir,—a vacation!

Oakhurst (aside). He knows not how truly he speaks. (Aloud.) Yes, sir, I was still up. I have only just now dismissed the policemen.

Old Morton. Ay. I heard voices, and saw a light in your window. I came to tell you, Alexander, Capper has explained all about—about the decoy! More; he has told me of your courage and your invaluable assistance. For a moment, sir,—I don't mind telling you now in confidence,—I doubted YOU—

Oakhurst (in feigned deprecation). Oh, sir!

Old Morton. Only for a moment. You will find, Alexander, that even that doubt shall have full apology when the year of your probation has expired. Besides, sir. I know all.

Oakhurst (starting). All!

Old Morton. Yes, the story about the Duchess and your child. You are surprised. Col. Starbottle told me all. I forgive you, Alexander, for the sake of your boy.

Oakhurst. My boy, sir!

Old Morton. Yes, your boy. And let me tell you, sir, he's a fine young fellow. Looks like you,—looks as you did when YOU were a boy. He's a Morton too, every inch of him, there's no denying that. No, sir. You may have changed; but he—he—is the living image of my little Alexander. He took to me, too,—lifted his little arms—and—and— (Becomes affected, and leans his head in his hands.)

Oakhurst (rising). You are not well, sir. Let me lead you to your room.

Old Morton. No! it is nothing: a glass of water, Alexander!

Oakhurst (aside). He is very pale. The agitation of the night has overcome him. (Goes to table R.) A little spirits will revive him. (Pours from decanter in glass, and returns to MORTON.)

Old Morton (after drinking). There was spirits in that water, Alexander. Five years ago, I vowed at your mother's grave to abandon the use of intoxicating liquors.

Oakhurst. Believe me, sir, my mother will forgive you.

Old Morton. Doubtless. It has revived me. I am getting to be an old man, Aleck. (Holds out his glass half-unconsciously, and OAKHURST replenishes it from decanter.) Yes, an old man, Aleck; but the boy,—ah, I live again in him. The little rascal! He asked me, Aleck, for a "chaw tobacker!" and wanted to know if I was the "ol' duffer." Ha, ha! He did. Ha, ha! Come, come, don't be despondent. I was like you once, damn it,—ahem—it's all for the best, my boy, all for the best. I'll take the young rascal (aside)—damn it, he's already taken me—(aloud) on equal terms. There, Aleck, what do you say?

Oakhurst. Really, sir, this forbearance,—this kindness—(aside) I see a ray of light.

Old Morton. Nonsense! I'll take the boy, I tell you, and do well for him,—the little rascal!—as if he were the legal heir. But, I say, Aleck (laughing), ha, ha!—what about—ha, ha!—what about Dona Jovita, eh? and what about Don Jose Castro, eh? How will the lady like a ready-made family, eh? (Poking OAKHURST in the ribs.) What will the Don say to the family succession? Ha, ha!

Oakhurst (proudly). Really, sir, I care but little.

Old Morton (aside). Oh, ho! I'll sound him. (Aloud.) Look ye, Alexander, I have given my word to you and Don Jose Castro, and I'll keep it. But if you can do any better, eh—if—eh?—the schoolma'am's a mighty pretty girl and a bright one, eh, Aleck? And it's all in the family—eh? And she thinks well of you; and I will say, for a girl brought up as she's been, and knowin' your relations with the Duchess and the boy, to say a kind word for ye, Aleck, is a good sign,—you follow me, Aleck,—if you think—why, old Don Jose might whistle for a son-in-law, eh?

Oakhurst (interrupting indignantly). Sir! (Aside.) Stop! (Aloud.) Do you mean to say, sir, that if I should consent to this—suggestion—that, if the lady were willing, YOU would offer no impediment?

Old Morton. Impediment, my dear boy! you should have my blessing.

Oakhurst. Pardon me a moment. You have in the last year, sir, taught me the importance of business formality in all the relations of life. Following that idea, the conditions of my engagement with Jovita Castro were drawn up with your hand. Are you willing to make this recantation as formal, this new contract as businesslike and valid?

Old Morton (eagerly). I am.

Oakhurst. Then sit here, and write at my dictation. (Pointing to table L. OLD MORTON takes seat at table.) "In view of the evident preferences of my son Alexander Morton, and of certain family interests, I hereby revoke my consent to his marriage with the Dona Jovita Castro, and accord him full permission to woo and win his cousin, Miss Mary Morris, promising him the same aid and assistance previously offered in his suit with Miss Castro."

Old Morton (signing). Alexander Morton, sen. There, Aleck! You have forgotten one legal formality. We have no witness. Ha, ha!

Oakhurst (significantly). I will be a sufficient witness.

Old Morton. Ha, ha! (Fills glass from decanter, after which OAKHURST quietly removes decanter beyond his reach.) Very good! Aleck, I've been thinking of a plan,—I've been thinking of retiring from the bank. I'm getting old, and my ways are not the popular ways of business here. I've been thinking of you, you dog,—of leaving the bank to you,—to you, sir, eh—the day—the day you marry the schoolma'am—eh. I'll stay home and take care of the boy—eh—hic! The little rascal!—lifted his arms to me—did, Aleck! by God! (Incoherently.) Eh!

Oakhurst. Hush! (Aside.) Sandy will overhear him, and appear.

Old Morton (greatly affected by liquor.) Hush! eh!—of course—shoo! shoo! (The actor will here endeavor to reproduce in OLD MORTON'S drunken behavior, without exactly imitating him, the general characteristics of his son's intoxication.) Eh!—I say, Aleck, old boy! what will the Don say? eh? Ha, ha, ha! And Jovita, that firebrand, how will she—hic—like it, eh? (Laughs immoderately.)

Oakhurst. Hush! We will be overheard! The servants, sir!

Old Morton. Damn the servants! Don't I—hic—pay them wages—eh?

Oakhurst. Let me lead you to your own room. You are nervously excited. A little rest, sir, will do you good. (Taking his arm.)

Old Morton. No shir, no shir, 'm nerrer goin' to bed any more. Bed's bad habit!—hic—drunken habit. Lesh stay up all ni, Aleck! You and me! Lesh nev'r—go—bed any more! Whar's whiskey—eh? (Staggers to the table for decanter as OAKHURST seizes him, struggle up stage, and then OLD MORTON, in struggle, falls helplessly on sofa, in same attitude as SANDY was discovered.)

Enter SANDY cautiously from door L.

Sandy (to OAKHURST). Jack! Eh, Jack—

Oakhurst. Hush! Go! I will follow you in a moment. (Pushes him back to door L.)

Sandy (catching sight of OLD MORTON). Hallo! What's up?

Oakhurst. Nothing. He was overtaken with a sudden faintness. He will revive presently: go!

Sandy (hesitating). I say, Jack, he wasn't taken sick along o' me, eh, Jack?

Oakhurst. No! No! But go (pushing him toward door).

Sandy. Hold on: I'm going. But, Jack, I've got a kind of faintness yer, too. (Goes to side-table, and takes up decanter.) And thar's nothing reaches that faintness like whiskey. (Fills glass.) Old Morton (drunkenly and half-consciously from couch). Whiskey—who shed—whiskey—eh? Eh—O—gimme some, Aleck—Aleck, my son,—my son!—my old prodigal—Old Proddy, my boy—gimme—whiskey—(sings)—

Oh, yer's yer good old whiskey,
Drink it down!

Eh? I com—mand you,—pass the whiskey!

SANDY, at first panic-stricken, and then remorsefully conscious, throws glass down, with gesture of fear and loathing. OAKHURST advances to his side hurriedly.

Oakhurst (in hurried whisper). Give him the whiskey, quick! It will keep him quiet. (Is about to take decanter when SANDY seizes it: struggle with OAKHURST.)

Sandy (with feeling). No, no, Jack, no! (Suddenly with great strength and determination, breaks from him, and throws decanter from window.) No, NEVER!

Old Morton (struggling drunkenly to his feet). Eh—who sh'd never? (OAKHURST shoves SANDY in room L., and follows him, closing door.) Eh, Aleck? (Groping.) Eh, where'sh light? All gone. (Lapses on sofa again, after an ineffectual struggle to get up, and then resumes his old attitude.)

(Change scene quickly.)

SCENE 3.—Ante-room in MR. MORTON'S villa. Front scene. Enter DON JOSE CASTRO and CONCHO, preceded by SERVANT, L.

Servant. This way, gentlemen.

Don Jose. Carry this card to Alexander Morton, sen.

Servant. Beg pardon, sir, but there's only one name here, sir (looking at CONCHO).

Don Jose (proudly). That is my servant, sir. [Exit SERVANT.

Don Jose (aside). I don't half like this business. But my money locked up in his bank, and my daughter's hand bound to his son, demand it. (Aloud.) This is no child's play, Concho, you understand.

Concho. Ah! I am wise. Believe me, if I have not proofs which shall blanch the cheek of this old man, I am a fool, Don Jose!

Re-enter SERVANT.

Servant. Mr. Morton, sen., passed a bad night, and has left word not to be disturbed this morning. But Mr. Morton, jun., will attend you, sir.

Concho (aside). So the impostor will face it out. Well, let him come.

Don Jose (to SERVANT) I wait his pleasure. [Exit SERVANT.

Don Jose. You hear, Concho? You shall face this man. I shall repeat to him all you have told me. If you fail to make good your charge, on your head rests the consequences.

Concho. He will of course deny. He is a desperate man: he will perhaps attack me. Eh! Ah! (Drawing revolver.)

Don Jose. Put up your foolish weapon. The sight of the father he has deceived will be more terrible to him than the pistol of the spy.

Enter COL. STARBOTTLE, C.

Starbottle. Mr. Alexander Morton, Jun., will be with you in a moment. (Takes attitude by door, puts his hand in his breast, and inflates himself.)

Concho (to DON JOSE, aside). It is the bullying lawyer. They will try to outface us, my patron; but we shall triumph. (Aloud.) He comes, eh!—Mr. Alexander Morton, gentlemen! I will show you a cheat, an impostor!

Enter, in correct, precise morning dress, SANDY MORTON. There is in his make-up and manner a suggestion of the father.

Concho (recoiling, aside). Diego! The real son. (Aloud, furiously.) It is a trick to defeat justice,—eh!—a miserable trick! But it shall fail, it shall fail!

Col. Starbottle. Permit me, a moment,—a single moment. (To Concho.) You have—er—er—characterized my introduction of this—er—gentleman as a "cheat" and an "imposture." Are you prepared to deny that this is Alexander Morton?

Don Jose (astonished, aside). These Americanos are of the Devil! (Aloud and sternly.) Answer him, Concho, I command you.

Concho (in half-insane rage). It is Alexander Morton; but it is a trick,—a cowardly trick! Where is the other impostor, this Mr. John Oakhurst?

Sandy (advancing with dignity and something of his father's cold manner). He will answer for himself, when called for. (To DON JOSE.) You have asked for me, sir: may I inquire your business?

Concho. Eh! It is a trick,—a trick!

Don Jose (to CONCHO). Silence, sir! (To SANDY, with dignity.) I know not the meaning of this masquerade. I only know that you are NOT the gentleman hitherto known to me as the son of Alexander Morton. I am here, sir, to demand my rights as a man of property and a father. I have received this morning a check from the house of Morton & Son, for the amount of my deposit with them. So far—in view of this complication—it is well. Who knows? Bueno! But the signature of Morton & Son to the check is not in the handwriting I have known. Look at it, sir. (To SANDY, handing check.)

Sandy (examining check). It is my handwriting, sir, and was signed this morning. Has it been refused?

Don Jose. Pardon me, sir. It has not been presented. With this doubt in my mind, I preferred to submit it first to you.

Starbottle. A moment, a single moment, sir. While as a—er—gentleman and a man of honor, I—er—appreciate your motives, permit me to say, sir, as a lawyer, that your visit is premature. On the testimony of your own witness, the identification of Mr. Alexander Morton, jun., is—er—complete; he has admitted the signature as his own; you have not yet presented the check to the bank.

Don Jose. Pardon me, Col. Starbottle. It is not all. (To SANDY.) By a written agreement with Alexander Morton, sen., the hand of my daughter is promised to his son, who now stands before me, as my former servant, dismissed from my service for drunkenness.

Sandy. That agreement is revoked.

Don Jose. Revoked!

Sandy (handing paper). Cast your eyes over that paper. At least you will recognize THAT signature.

Don Jose (reads). "In view of the evident preferences of my son, Alexander Morton, and of certain family interests, I hereby revoke my consent to his marriage with the Dona Jovita Castro, and accord him full permission to woo and win his cousin, Miss Mary Morris; promising him the same aid and assistance previously offered in his suit with Miss Castro.—ALEXANDER MORTON, SEN."

Concho. Ah! Carramba! Do you not see the trick,—eh, the conspiracy? It was this man, as Diego, your daughter's groom, helped his friend Mr. Oakhurst to the heiress. Ah, you comprehend! It was an old trick! You shall see, you shall see! Ah! I am wise, I am wise!

Don Jose (aside). Could I have been deceived? But no! This paper that releases HIM gives the impostor no claim.

Sandy (resuming his old easy manner, dropping his formality, and placing his hand on DON JOSE'S shoulder). Look yar, ole man: I didn't allow to ever see ye agin, and this yer ain't none o' MY seekin'. But, since yer here, I don't mind tellin' ye that but for me that gal of yours would have run away a year ago, and married an unknown lover. And I don't mind adding, that, hed I known that unknown lover was my friend John Oakhurst, I'd have helped her do it. (Going.) Good-morning, Don Jose.

Don Jose. Insolent! I shall expect an account for this from your—father, sir.

Sandy. Adios, Don Jose. [Exit C.

Concho. It is a trick—I told you. Ah, I am wise. (Going to DON JOSE.)

Don Jose (throwing him off). Fool! [Exit DON JOSE.

Concho (infuriated). Eh! Fool yourself—dotard! No matter: I will expose all—ah! I will see Jovita;—I will revenge myself on this impostor! (Is about to follow, when COL. STARBOTTLE leaves his position by the door, and touches CONCHO on the shoulder.)

Starbottle. Excuse me.

Concho. Eh?

Starbottle. You have forgotten something.

Conhho. Something?

Starbottle. An apology, sir. You were good enough to express—er—incredulity—when I presented Mr. Morton: you were kind enough to characterize the conduct of my er—principal by—an epithet. You have alluded to me, sir,—ME—

Concho (wrathfully). Bully! (Aside.) I have heard that this pomposo, this braggart, is a Yankee trick too; that he has the front of a lion, the liver of the chicken. (Aloud.) Yes, I have said, you hear I have said, I, Concho (striking his breast), have said you are a—bully!

Starbottle (coolly). Then you are prepared to give me satisfaction, sir,—personal satisfaction.

Concho (raging). Yes, sir, now—you understand, now (taking out pistol), anywhere, here! Yes, here. Ah! you start,—yes, here and now! Face to face, you understand, without seconds,—face to face. So. (Presenting pistol.)

Starbottle (quietly). Permit me to—er—apologize.

Concho. Ah! It is too late!

Starbottle (interrupting). Excuse me, but I feared you would not honor me so completely and satisfactorily. Ged, sir, I begin to respect you! I accede to all your propositions of time and position. The pistol you hold in your hand is a derringer, I presume, loaded. Ah—er—I am right. The one I now produce (showing pistol) is—er—as you will perceive the same size and pattern, and—er—unloaded. We will place them both, so, under the cloth of this table. You shall draw one pistol, I will take the other. I will put that clock at ten minutes to nine, when we will take our positions across this table; as you—er—happily express it, "face to face." As the clock strikes the hour, we will fire on the second stroke.

Concho (aside). It is a trick, a Yankee trick! (Aloud.) I am ready. Now—at once!

Starbottle (gravely). Permit me, sir, to thank you. Your conduct, sir, reminds me of singular incident—

Concho (angrily interrupting). Come, come! It is no child's play. We have much of this talk, eh! It is action, eh, you comprehend,—action.

(STARBOTTLE places pistols under the cloth, and sets clock. CONCHO draws pistol from cloth; STARBOTTLE takes remaining pistol. Both men assume position, presenting their weapons; STARBOTTLE pompously but seriously, CONCHO angrily and nervously.)

Starbottle (after a pause). One moment, a single moment—

Concho. Ah, a trick! Coward! you cannot destroy my aim.

Starbottle. I overlook the—er—epithet. I wished only to ask, if you should be—er—unfortunate, if there was anything I could say to your—er—friends.

Concho. You cannot make the fool of me, coward. No!

Starbottle. My object was only precautionary. Owing to the position in which you—er—persist in holding your weapon, in a line with my right eye, I perceive that a ray of light enters the nipple, and—er—illuminates the barrel. I judge from this that you have been unfortunate enough to draw the—er—er—unloaded pistol.

Concho (tremulously lowering weapon). Eh! Ah! This is murder! (Drops pistol.) Murder!—eh—help (retreating), help!

[Exit hurriedly door C., as clock strikes. COL. STARBOTTLE lowers his pistol, and moves with great pomposity to the other side of the table, taking up pistol.

Starbottle (examining pistol). Ah! (Lifts it, and discharges it.) It seems that I am mistaken. (Going.) The pistol WAS—er—loaded! [Exit.

SCENE 4.—Front scene. Room in villa. Enter MISS MARY and JOVITA.

Miss Mary. I tell you, you are wrong, you are not only misunderstanding your lover, which is a woman's privilege, but you are abusing my cousin, which, as his relative, I won't put up with.

Jovita (passionately). But hear me, Miss Mary. It is a year since we were betrothed; and such a betrothal! Why, I was signed, sealed, and delivered to him, on conditions, as if I were a part of the rancho; and the very night, too, I had engaged to run away with him! And during that year I have seen the gentleman twice,—yes, twice!

Miss Mary. But he has written?

Jovita. Mother of God! Yes,—letters delivered by my father, sent to HIS CARE, read by him first, of course; letters hoping that I was well, and obeying my father's commands; letters assuring me of his unaltered devotion; letters that, compared with the ones he used to hide in the confessional of the ruined mission church, were as ice to fire, were as that snow-flower you value so much, Mary, to this mariposa blossom I wear in my hair. And then to think that this man—this John Oakhurst, as I knew him; this man who used to ride twenty miles for a smile from me on the church porch; this Don Juan who leaped that garden wall (fifteen feet, Mary, if it is an inch), and made old Concho his stepping-stone; this man, who daily perilled death for my sake—is changed into this formal, methodical man of business—is—is—I tell you there's a WOMAN at the bottom of it! I know it sure!

Miss Mary (aside). How can I tell her about the Duchess? I won't! (Aloud.) But listen, my dear Jovita. You know he is under probation for you, Jovita. All this is for you. His father is cold, methodical, unsympathetic. HE looks only to his bond with this son,—this son that he treats, even in matters of the heart, as a BUSINESS partner. Remember, on his complete reformation, and subjection to his father's will, depends your hand. Remember the agreement!

Jovita. The agreement; yes! It is the agreement, always the agreement! May the Devil fly away with the agreement! Look you, Miss Mary, I, Dona Jovita, didn't fall in love with an agreement: it was with a man! Why, I might have married a dozen agreements—yes, of a shorter limitation than this! (Crossing.)