Jube. Gwine to rob him? It's all out. Can't stan' dat. Whar's dat rebolber? (points revolver at Vermont) ain't goin' to be no foo' in dis yer camp.
Win-Kye (sees paint-pot near door). Paintee man, blushee all light. Me paintee too. (Takes brush, smells of it, makes a wry face.) Smelle stlong. Smelle kelosenee. (Vermont pulls bag away.)
Jube. Buglery, buglery! but I's got de bead on him; jes' wait till he stows it away. (Vermont, on one knee, takes a bag from his breast.)
Jube. Dat's de game: take out ob whosen's bag, and put in hisen; but—but I got de bead on him. (Vermont opens Silas's bag, and pours dust from his bag into it.)
Jube. What's dat? Dar's some mistook. But I got de bead on him.
Win-Kye (with brush creeps under the window). Me paintee, Jube, whitee, all ligh'. (Vermont puts back his bag, then about to restore the other under Silas's head; as he touches him, Silas springs up. Vermont rises to his feet.)
Silas (seizing him). Ah! would you? (They wrestle; and, with a trip, Silas throws him back on stool R. of table, his back against table, draws a revolver from his hip-pocket, and points it at his head.) Yours for health.
Jube. Now, tangle hoof jes' spoiled de fun, but he's got de bead.
Vermont. Don't shoot: I'm your dad.
Silas. My dad?