Tom. Right, stranger. Where you left your mark, I'll look for gold. (Exit C. and off L. Vermont passes window, and stops in door looking after Tom.)
Vermont. Tom Carew, I reckon, scootin' away like a cotton-tailed rabbit. Outer my ranch, too. (Comes down.) Can't find a trace of that tender foot: he's shook me clean. (Sees Silas.) Thar he is. (Sits R. of table.) Blamed if the chap ain't been underground. He's struck dirt, and it sticks to him. (Places elbow on knee, chin on hand, and watches Silas. Jube appears at window.)
Jube. Golly! dat ole man means mischief. He's jes' been trailin' arter dat ar tender hoof. What's de cunundrum? what he want? Go slow, ole man, I's watchin'.
Win-Kye (stealthily sticking his head in at door). Paintee man sleepee, Vellemontee watchee, Win-Kye alle samee.
Vermont. Sleepin' jest like a little kid, dreaming of the old mother way down East. Well I remember the time when the old boys, young then, used to think of the old folks, and long for the time to come when they should get fixed up with dust, and go home. How we did dream! and what a sorter lonesome feelin' would come over us, and then we'd get careless. They seemed so far away, till news would come that somebody we knew had passed in his checks, and was farther, farther away. (Draws his sleeve across his eyes.)
Jube. Golly! de ole man's crying. See de weeps! See de weeps!
Vermont. Tender foot shall go back well fixed. I've been watching for a chance, and now's the time. (Rises and looks about cautiously. Jube and Win-Kye disappear. Vermont creeps toward Silas. Jube and Win-Kye reappear as before.)
Jube. What's de racket?
Vermont. His bag of dust is under his head. I must have it. (Creeps nearer, and places his hand on bag.)