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?