Tom. The ledge! the ledge!
Jube. Don't you do it. Ah! he's gone ober de ledge, down three hundred feet. Good-by, detect! (Comes down.)
Agnes. What a horrible fate!
Tom. Better that than the tree.
Vermont (comes C., and takes up pick). This is the pick that opened Nevada's bonanza. Why, it's little better than—What's this? a name cut into it? (Looks at it closely.) Ah (drops it agitated), widder, widder! (Enter Mother from cabin.)
Mother. What is it, Vermont?
Vermont (seizes her by wrist, and leads her R.). Widder, it's come, it's come. My old head couldn't strike it, but Tom has,—the name.
Widow. What name?
Vermont. A name long forgotten, but now brought to light,—John Murdock.
(Enter Nevada from cabin followed by Moselle.)