Silas. Strike him! Do you s'pose I'm such a fool as to tackle a grizzly with his war-paint on? I struck for home: I never had such a longing for the dearest spot on earth in all my life. You see, stranger, I started out to do a little embalming for the balm: your friend Vermont's hospitality and bacon had made it necessary for me to take a little exercise. Well, I took a long constitutional, practising a little here and there with the brush, until I espied away up a bowlder,—such a bowlder for a six-sheet poster!—that seemed to offer uncommon facilities for the display of the pronunciamento.
Tom. The what?
Silas. Oh! that staggers you, does it? Well, that's high jinks for the balm. It was the wildest spot I ever scrambled through, the hardest climb I ever attempted; but I reached it, spread the balm in gigantic letters, and was just putting a stop to it, when the earth gave way, and down I went. I didn't have time to take out my watch, but I should think it was about an hour before I stopped dropping. When I did, I found I was underground, evidently in a deserted mine. I might have taken an observation; but an ugly growl in the interior convinced me that the inhabitant of that sequestered spot was not at home for company, so I came out. A little too hurriedly for good manners, perhaps, but with a celerity that astonished me, if it didn't the grizzly. (Sits on bench.) Whew! such a run! Excuse me, stranger, if I stretch out a bit. (Lies on bench.) I've had enough of the balm (yawns) for one day, now I'm going in for a little of the balmy (yawns) sleep. Stop a bit. (Raises himself.) Must look out for the dust. (Takes bag from his breast, and places it under his head. Yawns.) Such a tramp (yawns) along the ravine, three miles. (Nevada, who has been crouching looking into the fire, raises his head, and looks at Silas.) Then over the bowlders to where the big tree lies across (yawns) across the creek. (Nevada rises, and approaches stealthily.) Across it to the gorge, beyond (yawns), a good mile. (Nevada still nearer, agitated, glaring at Silas. Tom seated R. of table watches him.) And then to the right (yawns); no, to the—(Yawns and sleeps.)
Nevada. He's found it! (About to rush upon Silas, Tom steps before him; they struggle, and Tom forces him back to door.)
Tom. Madman, what would you do?
Nevada (in door). Kill him. He has struck the trail. He would rob me of my treasures, but I'll be before him. Let him dare to meet me there; let him attempt to enter, and he shall find old Nevada a giant defending his own. His river of gold! ha, ha! The old man has not lost his cunning nor his strength. (Shaking his fist at Silas.) Beware of him! (Exit C.)
Tom. Off again as wild as ever. (Comes down, and looks at Silas.) Another moment, and he'd have been at his throat. What could have moved him so?
Silas (moves). Along the ravine—
Tom (starts back). Ah! that old story. How often have we heard it! Nevada's oft-told story in this stranger's mouth. Has he in truth, as Nevada said, struck the trail that leads to the lost mine? Has he found the clew to the mystery of years? If he has, 'tis marked, and should be found. There's a fortune for him who strikes it. A fortune would set Dick free, and make Agnes my wife. So, Tom Carew, for love and friendship try your luck, and—
Silas (moves and mutters). Look out for paint.