Nevada (goes and sits by fire rubbing his hands and warming them). I like this, I like to sit before a fire: I can see faces in the fire,—her's and the little one. See the tall flame back there; that's her face, but oh so haggard and pale! She thinks I will never come; and see, there's a bright little flame dancing up towards her, just as the little child used to climb up into her lap; and there's the little one's face now, and her little fingers beckoning to me. Yes, yes, I'll come, I'll come, with the gold to make us all happy.
Tom. Poor old fellow!
(Enter past window through door C, Silas, his coat torn, his hat out of shape, his clothes and face daubed with dirt; paint-pot in his hand. Singing),—
Out of the wilderness,
Out of the wilderness,
Ain't I glad I'm out of the wilderness.
In the classic vernacular of this benighted region, "you bet." Oh for a bottle of Busted's Balm! I'm sore from crown to heel. (Drops pail near door R.)
Tom. Well, stranger, I should say you'd been having a rough and tumble with a grizzly.
Silas. Wrong, stranger. Grizzly and I have been having a "go as you please," and I'm several laps ahead.
Tom. Where did you strike him?