P s G35 > PRICE TWENTY-FIVE CENTS ^C^[ ALONG THE MISSOURI BY HARRY VAN DEMARK THE PENN PUBLISHING COMPANY PHILADELPHIA Class; Ronk . ()opyiiglitN"_ COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. Along the Missouri A Western Rural Drama in Four Acts BY HARRY VAN DEMARK Author of "THE RANCHMAN." etc. PHILADELPHIA THE PENN PUBLISHING COMPANY 1909 .^7 /?.;^7 Copyright 1909 by The Penn Publishing Company ICI.D 1,7626 T)yPSo-00o6a5 Along the Missouri Along the Missouri CAST OF CHARACTERS William Watson John Watson . Norwood Crane DusTiN Barnes Manders Maffitt Rip Stokey Katherine Patton Virginia Maffitt Tillie Watson K?iown to his friends as " kind old Bill r . His son, a budding politiciati. Alias Randolph Radbourne, a scheming financier . Buffeted by fortune. A country banker 7vit]i prejudiced political and social views. Bill' s hired boy. The village school-teacher. . Manders' daughter. BiW s old maid sister. Time in Representation : — Three hours. ARGUMENT John Watson is a rising young lawyer and candidate for the legislature. He is engaged to Virginia Maffitt. Her father, who has political influence, is defied by John. Maffitt holds a mortgage on the Watson farm and threatens to foreclose unless Virginia gives John up, and she does so to save him and his family from nnhappiness. Maffitt him- self is in the power of Norwood Crane, alias Radbourne, a criminal adventurer, but John and Dustin Barnes, a reformed tramp, oppose and finally expose Crane and save Maffilt. SYNOPSIS Act I. — Watson Farm. Rip, a funny hired boy. Barnes tells his story. Radbourne and John. " I don't know what your game is, but I warn you to drop it, right now." SYNOPSIS Act II. — Watson Farm. Radbourne and Maffitt offer to help John win the nomination — at a price. John scorns the offer. •' You can't bribe me." Barnes defies Maffitt. "Might does make right ! " Act III. — Watson Farm. The farm to be sold. Maffitt bargains with Virginia. " To save their home to the Watsons you must give John up." " I will do as you ask." Barnes comes back reformed and finds his wife, whom Radbourne had estranged. Barnes and Radbourne (or Crane). ' ' Killing is too good for him." Act IV. — The governor's mansion in the capital. A ball going on. Radbourne forces Maffitt to give him Virginia. Barnes to the rescue. Radbourne is beaten, Maffitt repentant and Virginia is restored to John. COSTUMES "Bill" Watson. Acts I, II, and III, farmer's working clothes, high boots, flannel or cotton shirt, etc. Act IV, black "best" suit, heavy boots or shoes, black necktie. Smooth face or gray beard. John Watson. Acts I, II, III, neat business suit. Act IV, evening dress. Smooth face. Radbourne (or Crane). Acts I, II, and III, well dressed in business suit. Act IV, evening dress. Dark mous- tache and has mark on right wrist. DusTiN Barnes. Acts I and II, ragged suit, old broken shoes and hat, etc. (Tramp costume, but not too eccentric.) Act III, business suit, not fashionable but good. Act IV, evening dress. Unshaven appearance in Acts I and II. Smooth face Acts III and IV. Manders Maffitt. Acts I, II, III, dark business suit, or frock coat. Act IV, evening dress, or frock coat. Gray hair, eye-glasses. Rip Stokey. Eccentric farmer boy make up and costumes in Acts I, II, and III. During Act I changes to a suit too small for him. In Act IV has on "store clothes," red necktie, and very shiny shoes, cuffs too large for him, etc. Very much "dressed up." Katherine Patton. Acts I, II, and III, plain black or dark dress, or dresses. Hat in Act I. Act IV, elaborate and handsome evening gown. COSTUMES Virginia. Fashionably dressed throughout. Act I, riding suit and hat, gloves, whip. Acts II and III, walking suit and hat. Act IV, handsome evening gown. Aunt Tillie. Gray hair and glasses. Wears plain dress, apron and cap in Acts I, II, III, Black dress, lace collar, "mitts," gold chain in Act IV. PROPERTIES Act I. Wood crash for Rip. Water to wet Rip. Stick and knife for Bill. Bottle, pie, sandwich, card, for Barnes. Riding-whip for Virginia. Cigar for John. Act II. Soap, towel, etc., for Bill. Tray of food, dishes, etc., for Kate. Letter for Barnes. Musket for Bill. Act III. Flag, musket, letter, for Kate. Newspaper for Bill. Check-book, check and card for Maffitt. Revolver for Barnes. Act IV. Bandanna handkerchief for Bill. Check-book, fountain pen and slip of paper (receipt) for Barnes. SCENE PLOTS Acts I and III L-ANOSCMPE. OROP Scene. — The old Watson Farm near Watsonville, Missouri, and landscape drop representing foothills, wood wings r. Set house down l., with practical board and winiiovv. Fence, with gate, across back. Rustic seats by fence and 5 SCENE PLOTS down R. Well, with practical wheel or windlass, bucket and rope up r. Act II tV/ZVOOiV Scene. — Kitchen of the Watson house. Box set, with exterior backing. Cupboard up r. and old-fashioned musket lying near or hanging over it. Door L. c, window R. c, wash-bench between, with basin, soap and towel, etc. Table and chairs down r., doors R. and l., rocking-chair down r. Act IV O O TABLE O Scene. — Executive mansion, Jefferson City. Handsome interior, large door c. with portieres, doors L. and R., table and chairs down r., sofa down L., interior backing. Other furnishings to suit fancy. 6 Along the Missouri ACT I SCENE. — Bill Watson discovered down r., on bench, %vhittli7ig. He is whistling at rise, but stops after a moment and calls. Bill. Rip! {Pause — no answer.^ Oh, Rip Stokey ! Rip Stokev (off h.). Well, what d'ye want? Bill, You'd better water that old brindle cow. She ain't had nothin' to wet her whistle fer so long she won't know how it tastes. Rip [still off). Gol durn it! Jest when I was tryin' to git a wink o' sleep, too. I wish that cow 'd never been horned. Bill. Well, you do what I tell ye to, an' be tarnation quick about it, or I'll tan yer jacket so ye won't know a brin- dle cow from a mushroom. Rip. Well, I'm goin' — ding, dong, dang it ! But I feel like takin' th' durn cow by the tail an' swingin' her into th' crick. Cows is alius stickin' their noses into some- body's bizness. Bill (chuckling). Well, if you kin swing her into the crick, I'll stand the loss. ( Wood crash heard suddenly off L.) Jimmineezer ! what's he doin' ? Rip (still off). Git over there, you big four-legged biped, you, afore I smash you one on th' nose. When they made you they ought to left your whistle out, an' then we wouldn't have to wet it. (Wood crash heard again.) Oh, you old she-devil, lemme git at you ! (Cotnmotiofi continues. Bill finally starts toward L. U. E., but meets Rip coming in, doubled up like a jack-knife, hands pressed across stomach, a look of pain on his face.) Yer durn old cow's kicked a hole in th' barn an' got out — ding her, dang her ! 7 ALONG THE 311880 UEI Bill {chuckling). I guess that ain't all she kicked, neither ! Rip. I don't git no sympathy, no matter what happens. Bill. Well, ye ain't hurt, be ye? Rip. Lemme kick you in the stomach like that cow did me an' see if you've got breath enuff left to ask. Bill. Well, it's yer own fault. Ye alius knew she was a tricky customer. Rip. Bet I'll kill her if it takes a year ! Bill. Yes, an' you'll come up about fifty dollars short on pay day. Rip. What's th' difference? I don't git it nohow ! Bill. Now you're fibbin'. Rip Stokey. Didn't I give ye ten dollars last Christmas to buy a suit o' clothes, an' a pair o' striped socks — an' yet ye dare accuse me o' holdin' back yer wages. (^Crosses to L.) Git out o' here now, an' don't lemme see ye agin till chore time. Rip. If that cow's about th' barn there ain't a-goin' to be no chore time. Bill. Well, git about yer business, 'fore I tan yer jacket. Rip. All right — I'm goin'. Bill. An' see 'at yer about when I want ye. (Rip shuffles up r., but when he hears Aunt Tillie Wat- son's voice as she enters from the house, he stops and leans against the tvell curb. Aunt T. has a copy of the " IVatsofwille Neivs,'^ her finger pointing at a glar- ing headline.') Aunt T. ( going to Bill, who has resumed his seat under the tree). There ! Didn't I tell ye them Jenkins kids 'd git into trouble? Bill (whittling). Well, what they done now ? Aunt T. Got into Gabe Johnson's apple orchard an' tried to carry it off. Gabe got th' constable, an' th' boys is in jail, where they'd oughter been a year ago. Bill. Humph ! I feel downright sorry fer 'em. Aunt T, Do you mean to say, Bill Watson, 'at you'd up- hold them youngsters in such lawlessness? Bill. Well, I ain't sayin' what I'd do. But I ain't fergot 'at I wuz a boy onct myself. I used to swipe apples by th' dozens, an' sneak off frum school an' eat 'em, an' then go swimmin' down by th' dam, an' never turn up at home till the chores wuz did. {Chuckles.) Aunt T. Well, I'd be ashamed to tell it. When I was 8 ALONG THE 311880 UBI young my ma used to set me on a stool in th' corner when I was bad, an' if that didn't bring th' desired re- sult, I had an interview in th' wood-shed with pa. Bill. Yes, an' you cried so hard 'at your face got all screwed up in a knot. It ain't never got unscrewed. Rip {laugJiing loudly'). He — he — ha — ha ! That's a good one ! (Starts cutting up, swings up on the well curb, loses his hold and falls in. Splash heard, viiiigled with yells and splutters.) Aunt T. (rushing to well). Land o' Goshen, if that boy ain't gone an' drowned hisself ! Bill (following her). Good riddance to bad rubbish, say I. (Together they peer into the well. Bill one side. Aunt T. tlie other.) Aunt T. Rip — oh, Rip Stokey ! Rip (in well). R-r-r-rruh — blub-blub-blub — o-o-o-o-o ! Aunt T. What'd he say. Bill ? Bill. Don't ask me — I ain't no linguist. (Bill lowers bucket.) Catch hold o' that, ye duvn fool, an' we'll see if we kin git ye out o' there. (They finally pull the bucket up with RiP clinging to it, and help him over the well curb, where he stands, soaking wet, blubbering.) Well, you're a nice-lookin' pill ! Rip. I a-a-ain't no p-p-p-pill ! Ding, dong, dang it — jest my confounded luck ! Aunt T. (pushing him). Well, you git into th' house an' git on some dry clothes. Rip. Boo-hoo I Boo-hoo ! Boo-hoo ! (Exits blubbering into house, Aunt T. follotving and push- ing him occasionally. Bill looks after them arid chuckles. Turns in time to see Virginia AIaffitt, who enters R. throiigh gate, a riding-whip in her hand. She is wear- ing a large American beauty rose.) Virginia. Good-morning, Mr. Watson ! Bill. Hello, Virginny — how be ye? (Grasps her hand.) Virginia. Feeling fine, thank you. The air is so invig- orating. ALONG THE MISSOURI Bill (^looking around). But wheve's yer boss? Virginia. Oh, I left him out there, hitched to a tree. Bill {chuckling). Rip took a bath in lli' well, jest now ! Virginia. Oh, did lie ? {Dclighled.) Bill. Yep — first time he's been near water in a week. Virginia. Then it should do him good. Where are Aunt Til lie and Kate ? Bill. Tillie's in th' house, but Kate ain't come up from school yet. (Shades eyes ivith ha7id and gazes off v..) Purty near tune she was here, though. (Deep whistle off stage.) Yep — there's th' noon whistle at th' fac- tory. She'll be along pretty quick now. Sit down on th' bench where it's cool, an' I'll tell Tillie ye're here. {She sits and he exits into house. As he goes Randolph Radbourne enters L. and through gate.) Virginia. I wonder where John is. I dare not ask his father, for he will think me too — too — well {Sees ^kv>.— starts.) Oh— oh— Mr. Radbourne! I — I thought for a moment that you were some one else. Rad. So I observe, Miss Maffitt, and from the blush which mantles your cheek, I should say some one near and dear to you. Virginia. Why, I — I {Interrupted.) Rad. Oh, never mind ! I did not mean to be inquisitive. I envy him his good luck, that's all. Do you call often at the Watsons' ? Virginia. Oh, I run over occasionally when my horse is restless and I feel that a good spin will do him good. Rad. {smiling). In at least one direction our tastes run in the same channel. We both love fine horse-flesh. Virginia. I wonder that you are not riding. We have plenty of horses in the stable. You are welcome to your choice at any time, except my Maribell. Rad. I'm sure 1 thank you, but as I am on my way to the village to meet your father, I preferred walking. Won't you go with me ? Virginia. Thank you, but I am waiting for Miss Palton. Rad. {ivith a slight start). Patton ? Virginia. Yes, the village school-teacher. I had forgotten you did not know her. She boards with Mr. Watson and his sister. Rad. {down r.). Patton! Humph — it can't be ! {This lO ALONG THE MISSOURI is said half aside.') Very well, Miss Maffitt. Good- morning " Virginia. Good-morning, Mr. Radbourne. {He bows and exits through gate ami R. u. E. Virginia starts toward tJie Jiouse, but meets John Watson, wJw enters l. u. e., above house.) Oh — er — ahem ! Is — is that you, John ? {Turns from him, timidly hitting her skirt with her riding- 7vhip.) John. Who does it look like ? Virginia. Well, it looks something like a man ! {Laughs.') John. I thought I heard voices a moment ago. Who were you talking to? {Looks off R.) Oh, I see ! Ah, ha ! Who is he ? Virginia. Why — why, that is Mr. Radbourne. He is staying over at our house. John {looking at her keenly). A friend of yours? Virginia. VVell — er — not exactly ; say, rather, a friend of papa's from London. John. London ? Virginia. Yes — that is, he was formerly of London. He is now interested in Wall Street, and is financing a new road they are building to the copper mines. John. Then you are not interested in him, personally? Virginia. No, but I think he is interested in me. {Laughs.) John {smiling also). Well, I can't say that I blame him ; and you look especially sweet and pretty this morning. Virginia {archly). Do I, John ? John. Your cheeks are like roses — far prettier than that American beauty on your dress. Virginia. Oh, do you like American beauties, John ? John. I love one. Virginia. Oh, do you? Then I'll see that you have a bunch on your desk to-morrow. John. One American beauty is enough for me Virginia. On — on your desk, John? John. Yes, if she will condescend to sit there. Virginia. Oh, John, — I — I {Interrupted.) John. The American beauty that I have reference to has entwined itself about my heart, Virginia. How very, very uncomfortable that must be ! {Laughs. ) ALONG THE 5IISS0UBI John, Come, Virginia— be serious. You well know my sentiments toward you. I have told them over and over again. {Takes her hand, she turning away and hanging her head.) Virginia, do you love me ? Virginia. Why, John, I — I {As she hesitates Bill comes out of the house. Virginia sees him, gives vent to a startled " Oh .'" John turns and sees him, laughs guiltily. Virginia, laughing, runs off back of house, l. u. e., John follozving. When Bill sees what he has blundered ifito, he makes a hur- ried exit into house, and after a moment sticks his head out of the windo7v, peeping slyly around to see if they have gone. Enters from house.) Bill {as he goes up and peeks around the corner of the house). I'll bet that brindle cow agin a nickel with a hole in it that John's popped th' question. He's been figurin' on it fer some time, but ain't had the courage. {Laughs, then grows suddenly sober.) He alius thought he warn't good enuff fer her. Good enuff ? "Why, I'd like to see th' gal what's good enuff fer my boy John. He's good enuff fer — fer — well, he's good enuff, any- how. I kinder wish he'd come back. I want to know if she said yes. Makes me feel kittenish to think of it. {He does a dance step or two, and Rip, who enters hurriedly from house, catches one leg while it is in the air. Rip has chajiged his wet clothes for a suit of ^' store'' clothes, much too small.) Durn your skin, Rip Stokey, leggo — leggo, I say ! Rip. Yes, it's leggo — leg's goin* all right. (/// surprise, dropping Bill's leg.) Well, durn laie, is that you, Mr. Watson ? Bill. Ain't ye got eyes in your head? Rip. Gee ! I thought it was th' old brindle cow, an' I knew if I could git her with her leg in th' air, I'd sort o' have her at a disadvantage. Bill. Well, durn my pictur' — no, durn yours ! Took me fer a cow, did ye? I'll make mince pie out o' you ! {Starts for him, but Rip laughs and rims out r. As Bill turns back down c, he runs on again.) Rip. Say, Mr. Watson. Bill {starting). I thought I told ye to {Interrupted.) ALONG THE MISSOURI Rip. Ye did, but I forgot to tell ye that th' black heifer's fell down an' skinned her eye teeth ! Bill. What ? Hey ? Fell down an' — say, look here, durn you, that black heifer ain't got no eye teeth ! Rip. Guess I must 'a' made a mistake. (Shuffles out R., whistling.) Bill (Jookuig after him). Some day I'll run a pitchfork through his in'nards. {Enter Dustin Barnes, r., and through gate.') Barnes {iipon seeing Bill). Ahem ! Bill. Hello ! you're a nice-lookin' chicken. Who be you, anyway ? Barnes. Sh ! Let me whisper it ! I'm a nature faker ! Bill {chuckling). Or a tramp — which ? Barnes. They're both alike — neither loves work. Bill. I should say not. What ye doin' around here, any- way ? Barnes. Sh ! Another secret ! Maybe you think I'm looking for a chance to invest my money, but I'm not. But, just between you and me and the man in the moon, I'd like to dally a few minutes with some grub. Bill. Well, I guess ye kin git that, all right, but first tell me who you be. Barnes {posing). I am the lily of the valley. I toil not, neither do I spin, yet Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of me. Bill. Well, I should say not. Barnes. Pardon me, sir. Your use of the English lan- guage is what we call unpardonable. You should say "nit." Bill. Well, what'd ye like to eat, hey ? Barnes. Hay? Not on your life! But I might take some patty de foy graw. Bill. Never heered of it. Barnes. It is composed of cheese and rusty nails, with a little mustard mixed. Bill. I ain't got none of it on my program, but how'd some cold meat an' pumpkin pie strike you ? Barnes. Like a stick of wood hits a kitchen stove — grate ! 13 ALONG THE MISSOURI Bill {half aside). Ain't he a queer son of a gun? Just you wait here. Barnes. I'd never run away with pie in sight. (Bill laughs and exits into house.) Now, I like that old man — there seems to be a lot of good nature in his composition. I believe if he'd offer me the chance, I'd go to work. But here — I'm getting serious again. {Takes bottle from pocket.) Now, there's the friend that makes you forget even your worst enemy. (Hears Bill returning and puts bottle in pocket. Bill enters from house with tray of food.) Bill. Well, here's that pie, an' I've thrown in a ham sandwich fer good luck. Barnes (taking pie and sandwich off plate). Thanks, old man, thanks ! Now, I'll just go down to the bank Bill. The bank ? What bank ? Barnes. The river bank, and draw (Interrupted.) Bill. What ye goin' to draw? Barnes. My breath ! Bill. Ye don't look as if ye'd drawn much else for some time. Barnes (seriously). Well, to tell the truth, I haven't. I've had a downright case of hard luck. Bill. I don't doubt it. What made ye a tramp, any- way? Everyman has to have a beginnin'. I'm in- terested. (Sits on steps.) Barnes (seriously, laying food on bench and turning to- 7vard Bill). What made me a tramp ? What has made thousands of other good men tramps ? Bill. Don't know. Barnes. Misfortune — misfortune and dissipation. Bill. Well, you look as though you'd had your share of both of 'em. Barnes. Hold on, old man, don't judge me till you've heard my story. A woman, pard (Interrupted. ) Bill. Now, you hold on yourself — ye ain't goin' to blame all this on a woman, be ye? Barnes. No — I'm not blaming any one but myself and the man who came between us. Bill. That's right. A woman, ye know, is pretty much 14 ALONG THE MISSOURI what we make her. We often make her bad, but we seldom make her good. But go on with your story, Barnes. Six years ago I was full of fire and ambition. I fell in love with one of the prettiest creatures God's sun ever shone upon. I worshiped her. Bill. Did ye marry her ? Barnes. Yes, and settled down in the East. For a time everything went well, but when property declined in value, and I failed in business she grew discontented with lier lot. Bill. Was her folks good, moral people ? Barnes. Yes. They lived in New Orleans. One day she came to me and said she wanted to visit them, so I scraped together what money I could and sent her to New Orleans. For a time I received the most loving letters, but one day there came a note — only a little piece of scented paper, but the memory of it will never be erased from my mind — telling me she had ceased to love me and was never coming back. Bill. That was a durn shame. Barnes. Don't sympathize with me, old man; I had a friend in those days who sympathized with my troubles, and showed me how to forget them. I did and I for- got self-respect, business, everything. One day I woke up, and I hadn't a cent. Everything that had ever bound me to respectable society had vanished. Bill. And your friend — what became of him ? Barnes. He, also, went to New Orleans. When I found that out I followed, riding, walking, as best I could, for I was dead broke. Once there, I learned the bitter truth — wife and friend had gone to Chicago together. I found some of the letters that passed between them, so I have ample proof of her guilt. Well, I went West, but the cards I held grew worse and worse, until I was almost ready to give up this battle of life. But one day something rekindled in my breast a spark of the old fire, and I became possessed of a desire to go East again. I started two weary months ago, and here I am ! Bill. An' ye never got any trace of your wife an' friend ? Barnes. No, but I will some day, and when I do — well, I'll kill him — throttle him as I would a yellow cur — and her — and her {^Interrupted.') 15 ALONG THE 3IISS0URI Bill. Now, hold on— not her ! You wouldn't hurt her, would you ? Barnes. Yes, I would ; I'd — I'd (^Interrupted.) Bill. No, ye wouldn'i; not after ye'd thought it over. Maybe she thought she had reasons fer doin' as she did. Have ye ever thought of that ? Barnes. No. What excuse could a woman have for a thing like that ? Bill. Don't ye know there's such a thing as th' mind of a woman bein' pizened by a villain against those she loves ? Barnes. Even then I would not forgive her. Bill. Well, neither would ye harm a hair of her head. Remember that, an' remember another thing (Bill rises and going to Barnes lays a hand on his arm.) Remember your mother was a woman ! Barnes. Well — I know. I'll try and bear those things in mind if — if I ever meet her. {Shakes Bill's hand.) Bill. When you're down to th' village, call on my son, John Watson. He's runnin' fer th' state legislatur'. He may be able to help you. He's got right smart in- fluence 'round these parts. Barnes. Thanks, Mr. Watson — I'll take your advice. Bill. An' throw away that bottle I see stickin' out of your pocket — it's durn bad to quench thirst with. An' say, you haven't told me your name. Barnes. Ah, yes, I'd forgotten. I ought to have a card about me somewhere. (^Searches.) Yes, here it is. i^Gives it.) Bill (taking it). I never thought you'd be guilty o' carryin' a card. (Reads.) " Dustin Barnes, New York." Dustin Barnes, eh? Barnes. Yes, Dustin Barnes, at present a dealer in real estate. ( Takes a bird's-eye view of himself and 7tnnks.) Well, I'm much obliged for the food, old man. See you later ! {Takes pie fro7n bench and exits L. through gate ^ Bill {looking after him). Well, he's about th' queerest fish I ever saw, but I reckon, as he says, he's seen better days. (Katherine Patton enters from R, through gate.) Hello ! School out, Kate ? i6 ALONG THE MISSOURI Kate (wearily). Yes, Uncle Bill. Bill. Why, what's th' matter, gal — ye look all worn out? Kate. It has been a trying morning, Uncle Bill — I'll sit here on the bench a few minutes ; I will soon be all riglit. i^They botli sit on bench under tree.) Bill. I know what's th' matter — you've been whippin' too many o' them Dobbins kids. Kate. No — no — it's not that. Bill. Then what's ailin' ye, Kate? Come — an honest confession 's good fer th' soul, they say. There's been somethin' on your mind ever since you've been boardin' here. Out with it — p'r'aps yer Uncle Bill kin help ye, Kate. No — no — I — that is, it is nothing. Just a little shadow of the past that is ever flitting before my vision. I — I've tried so hard to dispel it, but in vain. Bill. Tell me what it is, Kate — there's alius a remedy fer worry. Kate. Yes, I know, but — but it would do no good to tell you this. It is something that could not interest you in any way. Bill. How d'ye know that? Kate. Some time perhaps I'll unburden my soul to you, but not now, Uncle Bill — not now ! Bill. As ye will, Kate ; but remember this — we all gits a taste o' th' bitter side o' life, no matter what we do, or where we are. So cheer up ; whatever it is, it'll come out all right in th' end. Kate. Your words give me hope an* cheer. But how is it. Uncle Bill, that you seem to understand trouble so well — a happy, prosperous farmer like you ? Bill. I fergot, Kate, ye didn't know th' old farm was mort- gaged to Manders Maffit, Virginny's father. An' th' worst of it is, it'll soon be due, an' I don't know how I'm goin' to pay it, Kate, particularly as I've got to help John git his nomination. Aunt T. {in house). Be that you, Kate? Kin ye help me with dinner? Kate (rising). I'll be right in, Aunt Tillie. Aunt 'F. {appearing in door, sleeves rolled up, hands cov- ered with flour). Virginny Mafhtt was here lookin' fer you a while ago, Kate — that is, she snid she were lookin' fer you (^JVinks significantly.) 17 ALONG THE SIISSOUEI Kate (smiVing). But in reality she was looking for John. Oh, I know these little tricks of our sex, Aunt Tillie. Aunt T. Like as not — like as not. I wonder if John ain't popped th' question ? Bill. Well, I reckon if he ain't he's a-goin' to. Kate. Virginia will make hiui a good wife. I admire her very much. (^Enter Rip, r.) Rip. Say, Mr. Watson Bill {rising in a threatening attitude^. Now, you git out o' here ! Rip. Guess I must 'a' made a mistake ! {Exits, shuffling, R.) Bill. That durn boy's th' plague o' my life. Aunt T. I reckon he won't never git no sense. Kate. Oh, Rip's all right. He hasn't had the advantages most boys have. He'll be a smart man some day. Aunt T. Well, p'r'aps he will, but th' prospect are mighty dubious lookin' to me. {Exits into house, Y^ki'E, following.') Bill {still on bench'). It kinder gits next to me to see Kate lookin' so pale an' thin, jest as if she didn't have no more interest in life. Got to do somethin' to pull her out o' that, an' durn quick, too. {Enter John, l. u. e.) John [joyously). Father ! Bill. Hello, boy ! ^Vhere's Virginny ? John. She went in the back way to tell Kate and Aunt Tillie all about it. Bill {hoppins; around in great glee). Ye don't mean — ye don't mean that she — she {Interrupted.) John. That's wliat I do mean. Bill. I'm sure tickled ! {Grows suddenly serious.) But — but wliat about her father, John? John. Hang her father ! I haven't taken him into con- sideration. Bill. But ye'U have to — don't fergit that. He has high ambitions for Virginny. i8 ALONG THE MISSOURI John. Yes ; he'd sacrifice her happiness if need be for so- cial position, but I'll fool him this time ! Bill {proudly). My boy, John ! But say, John, don't fergit another thing — old Mafifitt's got a mortgage on the farm, an' if ye displease him there's no tellin' what he's goin' to do. John. 1 am prepared for him. I haven't forgotten what he said to me when he first learned that I aspired for Virginia's hand. Bill. Ye never told me, John. ' John. He said I had better get a reputation and money enough to support her. Bill. Durn his skin ! An' what did ye tell him? John. That I would like to have his consent, but that if I couldn't get it, I'd manage to get along somehow. Bill {chuckling). My boy, John ! But be careful, John be careful. John. I don't believe he'd dare make us trouble. Bill. I'm not so sure about that. Manders Maffitt ain't no paragon o' virtue. John. I know, father, but you trust this business to me. Once I am elected, I will pay off this mortgage, and never again will the old place bow its head in shame. {Exits i?ito house.) Bill {as he goes). I hope so, John — 1 hope so. {Sits on bench again. Virginia peeps slyly around the corner of the house, L. , and seeing that he is alone, enters and tiptoeing up behind hitn, puts her hands quickly over his eyes.) Gosh all hemlock — who's that? {Starts to get tip, then sinks down again.) It's Virginny, I'll bet a nickel ! Virginia {releasing him). How did you guess ? Bill {taking both her hands and pulling her dotun on the bench beside hitn). Because I thought it was about time ye was tellin' me about it. Virginia {bashfully). Why — why, about what, Mr. Wat- son? Bill. Oh, come now, that ain't fair. Especially as John has jest been here. Virginia. Oh, did he tell you ? I thought I might sur- prise you. Bill. Virginny, you've made us all happy by promisin' to 19 ALONG THE MISSOURI be John's wife. John's goin' to be a great man some day. Virginia. I am sure of that. I shall try so hard to make him a good wife. Did you bring my horse up, Mr. Watson ? (^Rises and looks off R.) Bill. Gosh, no — I clean fergot it. Virginia. Never mind, then. I'll walk down there in a moment. Here come papa and Mr. Radbourne. Bill. Radbourne? Radbourne? Lemme see — where have I heered that name ? Virginia. Oh, it's been in the papers a great deal lately. Mr. Radbourne is interested in some mining schemes at present, I believe. Bill. Oli, yes. Ain't he th' man that's talkin' about buildin' a road through Watsonville to th' mines? Virginia. Yes, he's the man. I believe papa also is in- terested in it, though I don't know very much about his business affairs. Bill (Jialf aside). H'm ! They ain't comin' up here fer no good whatever. Virginia. Beg pardon ! Bill, Oh, I was jest mumblin' to myself, Virginny. (Virginia seats herself on the steps just as Manders Maf- FITT atid Rad. e7iter from R., througli gate.) Maffitt. What are you doing here, Virginia? Virginia. I came over to see Kate. Rad. {lifting hat). Ah, still here, I see, Miss Maffitt ? Virginia. Yes. Maffitt. How do you do, Mr. Watson? Allow me to introduce Mr. Radbourne of Jefferson City, formerly of Wall Street. Bill. Pleased to meet you, Mr. Radbourne. {They shake hands. All three stand do7vn r.) Rad. {casting his eye about). A pretty place you have here, Mr. Watson. (John enters from house and talks to Ymcmix on porch.) Bill. Well, I calk' late it ain't so bad to look at. (Maffitt and Rad. exchange significant glances.) Maffitt. Er — Mr. Watson, we — er — we have called to 20 ALONG THE MISSOUBI see if we cannot interest you in the new railroad to the mines. Bill. They're goin' to build it, then ? Maffitt. Yes, it is an assured fact, thanks to Mr. Rad- bourne. Bill. H'm, I reckon it'll pass pretty close to my farm, won't it? Maffitt. There's the rub. That's what we want to see you about. It will have to pass through it. Other- wise it will cost our corporation large and unnecessary expenditures of money. Bill. An' what do ye want me to do? Maffitt. Why, er — er {^luierrupted.') Rad. We thought perhaps, Mr. Watson, you would like to take some stock in the road. It is sure to be an excel- lent investment fi om the start ; we have had good luck in securing a second-hand equipment of rolling stock for a very reasonable price. Bill. I don't like th' idee of its goin' through my farm. The old place has been my home for nigh onto twenty years, an' I'm kinder sot agin puttin' a railroad on it. Them steam cars make too much noise. (^Enter John, from house. He and Virginia are strolling slowly toward K., when Rad. observes them.) Rad. Going, Miss Maffitt? Won't you allow me to see you to your horse ? Virginia. Oh, thank you very much, Mr. Radbourne, but I have asked Mr. Watson. (John and Virginia exeunt R., laughifig and talking.') Rad. {an^ri/y). I do not like your daughter's action, Mr. Maffitt. ' Maffitt. She meant no disrespect, Mr. Radbourne. I will speak to her later. (7.,fro>n L., through gate.) Rad. Ah, a pretty picture. Kate {springing to her feet and facing him). Go ! You must go at once. Rad. Indeed! Why? Kate. You have done enough mischief. He must not find you here with me. Go. Rad. He ? Who ? Kate. My husband. Rad. What! That good-for-nothing? Has he turned up? Why, you wouldn't look at him — a disreputable vagabond. {Enter Barnes and John from house.) Come, Kate, let's be friends. What do we care for that tramp? {Puts arm around her. Barnes starts foriuard, but John cliecks him.) 52 ALONG THE 3nSS0UIiI Kate (graspi//g Kad.^s arm and throwing it frovi her). Care for him ! I have always cared for him. You deceived rue for a few weeks into thinking 1 did not. But I know now that I always loved him, and I always will. Barnes (^coining down, a?id holding out arms to her). Kate ! Kate. Oh, Dustin ! {She hides head OJi his shoulder, sobbing.) Rad. The reconciliation ! [Laughs.) A very touching picture — very. Barnes {springi?ig toward him — while John takes Kate's hand). You scoundrel — you stole her from me once, but you cannot part us again. Rad. Oh, you're welcome to her — such as she is ! Barnes (^furious). You unspeakable coward. I swore I'd kill you, and by heaven I will, [Draws revolver and points it. Rad. coivers. Kate springs toward Barnes, grasps his wrist, and turns pistol up into air.) Kate. Dustin, don't ! Don't shoot him ! [Tableau.) Barnes. What! You love him, then, after all? [To Rad., who makes a step.) Don't move ! Kate. No. I hate him. But — it would be murder, Dustin — and it would be my fault. Oh, Dustin, 1 have enough to bear, without that ! Let him go ! Barnes. What ! Let him go — that snake Kate. Yes, For my sake, Dustin. John. She's right, Barnes. Killing is too good for him. Barnes [lowering pistol). I guess you're right. [To Rad.) Go. You owe your life to her. [Points to Kate.) [Exit Rad. through gate and off L.) [Enter Bill atid A\]'!^t T.,from house.) Bill [coming down). Why, it's Barnes again ! Barnes. Yes, it's Barnes again. That's just it. I'm a man once more and master of myself, — thanks to you, and to my wife. [Drazvs Kate to him.) 53 ALONG THE MJSSOUi:/ . ' T, I Your wife ! Aunt T. j Barnes. Yes. We have buried the past. The villain who injured our happiness has been plotting also against yours. But don't worry, good friends. (^Draws Kate to him with right hand, and gives left hand to '^WA..') The good old Missouri sun is still shining, and it's all coming out right — coming out right. {Tableau. Kate, l., Barnes, l. c, Bill, c, Aunt T., R. c, and JOHti, r.) CURTAIN 54 ACT IV SCENE. — Haridsome interior, with large arch or ivide door up c, or may be on the oblique, up\.. Doors L. a7id R. Table and chairs down R. Sofa down L. In- terior backing. Dance 7nusic heard off L. (Maffitt and Rad. discovered, entering through arch at rise. They go to table and sit, Maffitt, r., Rad., l.) Rad. You can evade the issue no longer, Maffitt — I must have an answer. Maffitt. Do not press me for an answer to-nig]it. Rad. I am not pressing you unduly. Are you not under obligations to me ? Maffitt. Yes, yes. Rad. When the finances of your bank were at a low ebb, I tided you over, did I not ? Maffitt. Yes. Rad. Thereby saving you from ruin ? Maffitt. Yes, but at what a cost. Ever since that day I have been completely in your power. Rad. Oh, don't put it that way. Say, rather, that I have exerted a beneficial influence over you. Maffitt. But you are not satisfied with a mortgage on all my available property, but want a mortgage on Vir- ginia's hand, as well. Rad. Well, that need not worry you. Virginia loves me. Maffitt. I fear she does not. Rad. Has she said so? Maffitt. Yes. Rad. Well, she'll learn to love me, anyway. Maffitt. I do not think so. Rad. She must ! Maffitt (/« despair). Do as you will. I am in your power. Rad. (laughing). Yes, you're in my power. One snap of my fingers can spell ruin in large letters for you. So remember, I must have my answer within half an hour. (^Rises.) 55 ALONG THE MISSOURI Maffitt. You shall have it if matters can be brought to a crisis within that time. {Also rises.) Rad. If matters are not brought to a crisis within that time, I shall take immediate steps to foreclose the mortgage. Maffitt. Yes, I suppose so. I did not hope for mercy from such as you. Virginia {off l.). Very well, Miss Watson, I shall see papa at once. He will be glad to have news from home. Maffitt. Virginia is coming. Leave us. Rad. Very well, but remember — within half an hour, {Exits through arch.) {Enter Virginia, l. She is laughing, but stops when she sees her father's sober face.) Virginia. Why, papa, what's the matter ? {Goes to hitn.) Maffitt. Virginia, I have a painful subject to discuss with you, — your engagement to Randolph Radbourne. Virginia {sitting on settee). Why speak of that now? Maffitt. Because it is necessary, imperative, that a deci- sion be reached at once. Virginia. But what can I do ? Maffitt. I know how you feel about the matter. But he is pressing me closely, and unless I comply with his wishes within a half hour, he will foreclose the mort- gage he holds on my property, and we will be ruined, for I have not a cent with which to face the world. Virginia. And he is forcing you to this ? Maffitt. Yes. Virginia. Well, he expects too much. Why should I be made to pay the price of my father's extravagance? Maffitt. I don't know, Virginia — I don't know. Virginia. How can a man like this Radbourne expect to marry a woman with a spotless reputation ? Maffitt. Oh, I know Radbourne was indiscreet while young, but every young man must sow his wild oats. Virginia. Is that any reason why we women should reap the whirlwind? Maffitt. I have nothing more to say, Virginia. Do as you wish. ( Totters toward table. ) Virginia {springing toward him, supports him, hands on 56 ALONG THE IHSSOUEI his shoulders). Papa, tell me truthfully, do you want me to marry this man ? Maffitt. It means ruin for me if you do not ! Virginia. And you would rather see me in his arms, knowing who and what he is and how I loathe him, than have ruin stare you in the face ? Maffitt {after some hesitation). No — Virginia, no ! {Takes her hand.) Do as you think best, and I will abide by your decision. {They go up toward r.) Virginia. Oh, thank you, thank you. Maffitt. But he must have an answer, one way or an- other, within half an hour. [They exeunt, talking, R.) {Enter Bill, through arch. He is looking back, waving a '^ bandantia" handkerchief to some one in the ball- room. Turns.) Bill. Listen to that moosic, would ye? Why, th* fiddlin' they have at these Jefferson City balls beats Tom Smith all to smash. {Sees footstool.) Hello, durned if they ain't got pincushions on th' floor. This is a strange town, anyway. I run about three blocks this mornin' to tell a feller his wagon was leakin', but he said it was all right — it was a sprinklin' cart. I went so far I had to take a street-car to git back. I took hold o' one o' them harnesses what's hangin' from th' top o' th' car, an' th' way I swung around on them ladies' laps was a caution. 1 reckon I stepped on one lady's foot, fer she said, "Old man, look where you put your feet." I says, " Young lady, I brung them feet in with me, an' I've got to put 'em somewhere." Th' only thing that bothers me about them blame street-cars is that clock they've got hangin' in one end o' th' place with a clothes-line tied to it. Every time the conductor got a nickel he'd pull th' clothes-line, an' the clock says "Ding ! " One minute the thing says "In," and th' next minute it says "Out." Th' only conclusion I could reach was that it told how much th' conductor was in, an' how much th' company was out. {Etiter Rip and Km^t T., through arch.) Rip [pointing at Bill). Huh — there he is, Aunt Tillie. 57 ALONG THE 3IISS0UBI Bill. Hullo — where you folks been ? Aunt T. Where have you been, Bill Watson ? We've been huntin' all over this blessed place fer you. Come pretty nigh gittin' lost. Lawsee — if anybody back to Watsonville had told me th' governor of Missoury had sich a fine place, I'd have called them a prevaricator right to their face. Bill. Well, you better get used to it. Here's our John in the legislature, and he may be governor and livin' right here before ye know it. Aunt T. Well, it beats me. (^Looks about.') Bill. You've got some few things to learn yet, Tillie. Rip. You bet she has. {She strikes at hitn; he dodges.) Say, Mister Watson. Bill. Well, what is it ? Rip. You know that old lop-eared mule o' ourn? Bill. Yep — v/hat about him ? Rip. Nothin', only he's still there ! Bill. Now you git out o' here 'fore I git mad an' tan your jacket. (^Starts for him. Rip runs out L.) Aunt T. Fer goodness' sake behave yourself while you're here, Bill, an' don't let your nasty temper git the best of you. Bill, You mind your own business, an' I'll 'tend to mine. Aunt T. Well, I'll have to keep an eye on that boy. {Over to L. I E.) No tellin' what he'll do if he's allowed to roam around the ballroom. He might make John sorry he got us this invite to th' ball. i^Exits.) (Rad. appears in arch, looking off.) Bill. Well, durn me, if there ain't that feller, Radbourne, all dressed up in swaller-spikes. Rad {turning). Ah, Mr. Watson, how are you? {Offers hand. Bill looks at it a tninute, shakes his head.) Bill. No, I reckon not. Rad. You won't shake hands with me? Bill. No. Before I left Watsonville, they told me to look out fer bunco steerers. I'd rather shake hands any day with a common sneak-thief than one who steals under th' name o* financierin'. 58 ALONG THE MISSOURI {Enter John, through arch, listens.) Rad. If you were a younger man, Mr. Watson, I'd make you regret that speech. Bill. Oh, ye would ? [Starts to roll up his sleeves.") Rad, Yes, but your age entitles you to some consideration. John (coming down between them). I am not entitled to that consideration. In regard to age, you and I are equal. Bill {proudly). My son, John ! Rad. Men of my set do not quarrel with their inferiors, {Turns away.) John. There are no inferiors to the set to which you belong. Rad. {laughing). I have become used to vulgar boasts since coming to America, yet it will be a great consola- tion when I return to England next month, with Miss Mafifitt as my bride, to know that I shall never again be forced to set foot on American soil, or speak to people who are not my equals. John. With such blood in your veins you could never be- come an American. Rad. I don't want to. The sun never sets on the British Empire, and it's good enough for me. Bill. Do you know why the sun never sets on the British Empire? It's because th' Lord's afraid to trust such Englishmen as you in th' dark ! John. And now we can dispense with your presence. Rad. No — I shall dispense with yours. {Exits, angrily, through arch.) Bill. Boy, th' society that feller belongs to is so durned rotten it's beginnin' to decay. It's bad enuff to be robbed ofVirginny, without havin' it slung in your face by a rat like that. John. Father, I've heard to-day from Dustin Barnes. He and Kate are in town, and I've invited them here. If he and Radbourne meet there may be trouble. Bill. That's so. Well, we'll hope they won't meet. My, but I'll be glad to see them. How are they? John. Very well. And, father, I hear Barnes has struck 59 ALONG THE MISSOURI it rich. They found a copper mine on that Montana land of his. Bill. Ye don't say ! Well, they deserves it, him and Kate. {Enter Maffitt, r. i e.) Maffitt. Ah, Mr. Watson. I am glad to see you in Jefferson City. How do you do, John ? Bill. Well, if it ain't Manders Maffitt ! (Zr