^ 7a mn s Z«k THE IMMORTAL JprlL _ ?\VuV.\,*\V.V> ■i o:r, >teJbm £%mm Sdttme. A DRAMA IN FOUR ACTS, WRITTEN AND DRAMATIZED BY MISS DELL. HENDERSHOT. [Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1875, by Miss Dell Hendershot, in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. 6.] ^*"""1 "**«^. Lon. S. Weeks' Printing House, over Dollar Store, Jackson, Mich ?&:l r &\ H^ r FRANK LEWIS, a Wealthy Gentleman. Mr. ROSS. WILLIAM GOODWIN, a Young Lawyer. ALFRED BAKER, Full of Fun, and Bound to be Jolly. MARTIN BOLTON, the Rash. SIMONS, the Fox. MOSHER, the Thinker. DOUGLASS, the Bait. HOWARD RANDALL, a Man of To-Day. CHARLEY ROSS. WALTER ROSS. LITTER, Servant to Mr. ROSS. POLICE, &c. Mrs. LEWIS, a Woman o Nerve. Mrs. BAKER, a Woman of Heart. KATE BAKER, a Girl of Sense. ALICE RANDALL, a Child of Sorrow. OLD BET, a Woman of Revenge. Stage Direction.— R. means Right of Stage, facing the Audience ; L. Left; C, Centre ; R. C. Right of Centre ; L. C. Left of Centre ; D. F. Door in the Flat, or Scene running across the back of the Stage ; C. D. F. Centre Door in the Flat; R. D. F. Right Door in the Flat ; L. D. F. Left Door in the Flat ; R. D. Right Do«r; L. D. Left Door ; i E. First Entrance ; 2 E. Second Entrance ; U. E. Upper En- trance ; 1, 2 or 3 G. First, Second or Third Groove. CHARLIE ROSS. ACT i — The Abduction. SCENE FIRST. A Country View. A Roadside Tavern, l 2 e, Lights Up. En- ter from house Mosher and Douglass talking. Douglass, (4 c.) Very well, Mosher, then that's settled. But you see, my lad, a bird in the hand is worth two ia the bush, and — Mosher, r c. Yes — I've read that somewhere — and I never forget what I have once read. Doug. As I was saying : The first thing to do is to get this boy Ross in our grasp without his brother being present, but that's a difficult thing, seeing as how they're always together. Mosh. (carelessly lighting a cigar.) Hem ! That's easy as thinking. Doug. You think so do you ? Well, I hope you're right in your conjecture. Mosh. There is not much business done about here, the place is lonely enough at all times, so we need'nt fear much from interruption. Doug. Well, you're right. We want money, it wont come to us. so we'll go to it in a quiet business-like way, you know as soon as the child is missed there'll be a general flutter, splutter and outcry. A reward will be offered, if it suits us the child will be suddenly found in the usual way, and but, confound it ! Suppose it's put in the hands of the detectives ? Mosh. Dam the cops ! 'tis them we have most to fear. But if it does come to that, why, I've read somewhere that young bodies don't hold more breath than is needed to sustain life ; so if the worst comes to the worst, why a business-like manipulation of the throat, thus : (imitates strangling,) you catch the idea? Doug. I tumble. (Laughter without, R.) Hallo! (looks off,) as I live, it is our prize ! Mosh. Well, so it is! How jolly! He comes to us quite handy like. Doug. Now mind — you attend to the boy Charley; I'll keep the other out of the way. The father is wealthy, and won't mind coming down handsomely with the solid ; and that's what we coves hunger for. (Shouts without of "Gee-up gee-up.") Mosh. Here they come! Stand aside for awhile. (They go up to Inn.) Charlie and Walter Ross run in, laughing. Walter has a stick in his mouth, to which is attached a cord. Charlie (laughing heartily). Ha! ha! ha! What a lazy horsee you be, Wallie. Walter. You are a hard driver, Charlie ; you must give your horse some rest, you know. (3) • Chak. Now you want to stop playing, I spose? (Mosher and Douglass come down.) Mosh. (gaily). Well, my gay young jockies, what's the matter? Horse winded, eh ? Charlie (poutingly). Wallie won't run. Mosh. (playfully looking at cord). Won't run, hey ?Well — well — I shouldn't think he could, with such a line and bit as this — why, it's cruelty to animals, so it is. Charlie (innocently). But I ain't got no oder one. Mosh. What ! a nice little boy like you ain't got no better? Here, I say, Mr. Peabody, (to Doug.) juit go and buy a nice silk cord for the pretty boy, will you ? Wal. Excuse me sir, it is not really necessary. Father doesn't like Charlie to receive presents from strangers ; he is rich enough to buy anything that — Mosh. Oh, I know that — Wal. Then do you know my father ? Mosh. (quickly). Eh? — oh — oh — I mean I've heard people mention his name in connection with wealth. Char. I want the silk cord. Wal. You must not, Charlie. Char. I will tho'. Wal. Charlie, I'll tell father if— Doug, (comes down). Don' prevent him from receiving so simple a present — it will cost but a trifle. I love to see children happy. I had several myself, but they passed away from this wicked world. Heigh — oh ! (wipes eyes). Wal. Excuse me, sir, if I have in any way caused you pain, but I really did net so intend it. Doug. Let us say no more about it. If it is a matter of pride on your part to prevent your dear brother from receiving presents from the hands of strangers, let me buy it and you give it to him. Come, let us go get it at yonder store. (Points Off R). Wal. Very well, sir, I won't refuse you that. (Crosses to Char.) Remain with this gentleman for a moment, Charlie — I'll be right back. Mosh. (quickly to Doug, as they x each other.) Give Jim a wink — he will run the horse and buggy round to the back of the stable, and then the prize is ours! Doug. All serene. Come, young sir. Excuse my impetuosity — but at times — I — cannot — help — (exit with Walter, talking, R. u. e.) Mosh. (aside.) So far. so good 1 Now to play the next card. (To Char.) Soon have vour nice silk cord — eh? You don't like lemonade with strawberries in it — eh? Char, (anxiously.) Yes — I does. Mosh. No — d' ye, now? Well, well — who'd have thought it? You wouldn't have some now, eh ? Char. Yes, I would--Tm thirsty. Mosh. Would ye hear 'm once ! Ha ! ha ! (Takes him up in his arms.) Whoo! what a heavy boy you is ! Why — why — you almost breaks my arm, you does. To think now that you like lemonade ! you shall have tt — you shall have it — plenty of it ! (aside.) Now for one bold dash and the game is mine ! (goes out quickly, with Charlie in his arms, behind house, l. 2 E.) Enter Walt, hurriedly, r. That't funny ! I no sooner got in the store, when that strange man excused himself for a moment and disappeared. (Scream without, l. and Charlie heard crying, 'Wallie! Wallie!") What do I see? my little brother in a wagon with those two strange men — (noise of a wagon rolling away,) ah ! they are stealing him away ! help! hel — oh ! (falls down in a faint.) (4) SCENE SECOND. Apartment in the house of Mr. Ross. Enter Mr. Ross, fol- lowed by servant, L. i e. Ross. If any other than Mr. and Mrs. Lewis call, say I will not be able to see them — I am tired and out of spirits. Servant. Very well, sir. Then I'm to admit Mr. and Mrs. Lewis ? Mr. R. Or any of the family — at all times. [Exit servant, l.] I fail to know what it is that depresses me so to-day. My sleep last night was dis- turbed by unpleasant dreams ; and my wife also several times called out in her sleep the name of our bright pet — Charlie. But, pshaw ! why let suet idle fancies worry me ! I know Charlie is full of youthful health and vigor, and I dare say will live to become an old man, and make his mark in the world. Without Charlie near me I would be wretched indeed — he is the sunshine of the house. I need a little relaxa- tion from my business — I fear I am a little too energetic in my endeavors to benefit my business, and thus weaken myself. Enter Walter. He starts on seeing his father. Mr. R. Ah, Walter — you are later out to-day than usual ? Wal. Yes, sir — that is — I — Mr. R. Eh ? Why, what makes you look so pale ? Wal. Do I look pale, sir? Mr. R. Why do you repeat my words? are you ill that — Wal. No, sir — that is — yes — I — Mr. R. Walter, I don't usually loose my temper, but you provoke me too far. I command you to speak — to tell me why you look so pallid? Wal. Father — I — I cannot tell you — Mr. R. Have you been tempted to do a wrong? if so, speak out boldly — don't do more wrong by concealing a little. Wal. No, father, I have been guilty of no wrong, except it be that my bewil- dered brain and sickening heart prevent me revealing the terrible fact that — that — Mr. R. Ah ! why does such a thought torture me ? Charlie — Charlie — he is — Wal. Father, he is stolen ! Mr. R. (staggering.) S — stolen? Charlie stolen ? my Charlie stolen ? What mean you ? Wal. It is true — the dread truth is out — two men stole him from me, and rode rapidly away. Mr. R. Who were those men — are they known to you ? Wal. I never saw them before. Mr. R. Would you know them again ? Wal. Amongst an hundred. Mr. R. Tell me all that you know, quickly !* • Wal. Oh, ask me not, father — I can scarcely speak — I am faint. Mr. R. You must speak, Walter This is a case that admits of no delay. Oh, my darling boy, where are you ? (Exit, supporting Walter, r.) SCENE THIRD. Handsome apartment in the house of Mr. Lewis. Tables, chairs, sofa, etc. Mr. and Mrs. Lewis discovered sitting at table, r. Mr. Lewis reading. Mrs. Lewis. Well, I must say, Frank, you are very entertaining. Mr. Lewis. My dear, I am not, and never was ; I am confoundedly dull to- day. Mrs. L. (pointedly.) More so than usual? Mr. L. To give you the benefit of the argument, I will admit that I am stupidly dull. ' Mrs. L. Any of your business transactions gone wrong to-day? (5) Mr. L. No, spring fever, I presume. Mrs. L. Then you had better find a cure, or it will become chronic. Mr. L. My dear, you are unkindly given to taunting this afternoon ; I don't think it generous of you: Mrs L. Now you are becoming angry ! oh, you sensitive men ! how very unlike playful kittens are you. Mr. L. I should hope so. I can't always come up to the scratch. Mrs. L. No, not even when the milk of human kindness is set before you. Well, there ; I've had the last word, and will annoy you no more. Mr. L. (reading.) "Arrival of Egyptian contributions for the Centennial." Mrs. L. Mummies? Mr. L. It doesn't specify. "Elopement in 'High Life.'" Mrs. L. "One more unfortunate" — well, no matter. Mr. L. "A party of masked robbers — mum — mum — hem — bound — gagged the —wife of—" . Mrs. L. (starting up.) Did they so? I should like to see the man that could gag me ! Mr. L. So should I. But I said there were a party of men — more than one, you know. Mrs. L. I care not if there were 30 of them — I'd defend myself to the last. Mr. L. Don't talk so ridiculous, Sarah. Your would-be heroines always talk and never act to the purpose. Very few women can contend against the strength of one burly man, much less two. These ruffians are not in the habit of giving others the advantage over them. I trust you will aever have the chance to prove yourself right or wrong in that respect. Mrs. L. I trust I may yet have the opportunity of proving to you, that your- own wife is no boasting baby, and that you have never really given her credit for what she is capable of performing. Mr. L. How provoking you are ! Why I have always given you credit for what- ever you have done. I appreciate your spirit, but deplore your romantic proclivi- ties. Let us not enter upon the subject of obstruse theories and quaint probabili- ties. Life is too short for idle talking; it is our duty to perform the more impor- tant avocations we owe to ourselves ; let those dream of miracles who can afford it. (Bell rings without, l. ) Ah, visitors ! well, I*m not sorry — it will enliven us. Mrs. L. (patting his head.) Speak for yourself, you dear old grumbler. Enter from c. door, Mrs. Baker, Kate and Alfred. Mrs. L. (to Mrs. B., embracing.) Why, my dear old friend — welcome,! I'm very — very glad to see you, Katy— Alfred. Mr. L. (shaking Alf. by the hand.) Well, Alfred, have you procured that situa- tion yet ? Alfred. No, s."r — not yet ; expect it will be all right on or about the first of next month, though. By Jove, I — Mrs. Baker. Don't swear, Alfred. Alf. Swear? I didn't swear — I only said — Mrs. B. Well, don't say it again — it's vulgar. Alf. What ! Jove vulgar ? why its classical. Kate. Oh, Alf., don't aggravate mother so ; you know she doesn't like to hear you use such expressions. Alf. Why, Sis, it's a fashionable English expression very much in vogue — by Jove ! • Mrs. L. (to Mrs. B.) There, there ! never mind him, he will have his joke. (6) Come, sit here, I have much to say to you. (They go up and seat themselves. ) Mr. L. to Alf.) Ha ! ha ! wild as ever, eh ? Alf. Mr. Lewis', I can't help it ; I'm all animal spirits, without the use of the ardent. Ha ! ha ! I must have been a funny baby — for I've been funny ever since. Mr. L. Well, my young friend, you have had plenty of time on your hands lately to improve yourself in various ways. You should read instructive books, and — Alf. Yes, but I've not found it so very handy either. I don't know why, but I can't finish reading a book through. Why, If I'm sitting by the window trying to digest some dyspeptic mental food from a certain ponderous volume — I'm not myself. I'm reading of one thing, and thinking of another — the book becomes a myth- - myself a reality — of martyrdom. The weighty book becomes too heavy for my del- icate hands to hold — comparatively speaking, of course — the book falls to the floor in an ignominious position, when I am suddenly attracted by the appearance of a well-conditioned and nicely developed Tom Cat on our fence ; the temptation is too strong; I quietly, as if by magic, .find myself in the yard with several young rocks in my hands, all of which are directed against Mr. Thomas, for keeping me awake the night before. The cat gets wonderfully impatient to be somewhere else, and ac- celerates his motive powers as if influenced by Rapid Transit, which speedy method of travel I greatly admire — when applied to Thomas Cats. Mr. L. How old are you now, Alfred ? Alf. By an acute calculation I find that I have existed upon this mundane sphere exactly 20 years, lacking 3 months, 2 weeks, 29 days, 2 hours, 16 minutes and 3^ seconds ; the deficit required to make up the balance in my favor, I am in hopes of catching up to in good time. Mr. L. I suppose you'll soon be looking about you for a — Alf. Mr. Lewis, it's an actual fact — why, I know not — that I am incessantly looking about myself for some favorable circumstance or opportunity whereby I may be enabled to distinguish myselt in the eyes of this ever watchful world. Mr. L. No, no, you rattle-brain ! I refer to a circumstance more serious — I insin- uated the likelihood of your looking about you for some pretty girl who would not cry 'you "nay." Alf. My dear sir, I never loved but two girls in my life — one I couldn't get, the other I didn't want. Mr. L. Oho ! you are young, to become discouraged. Persevere, and you'll suc- ceed with some "lady fair" yet. Alf. Oh, of course ; but I'm in no hurry. Mr. L. True — you must sow your wild oats, first. Alf. That'll be a difficult job, seeing as how I've planted so many already — they're not so easily dug up. But why are you so concerned about my immolating myself upon the matrimonial altar ? Mr. L. Because, Alfred, you are dangerous to yourself. You young bloods, blooming forth into manhood, need a guiding hand, other than that of your mother's or sister's. Temptations beset you on every side. The path through life has many turnings — a few are safe, but many fatal to those who are so misguided as to enter them. Now, a good wife would point out the many treacherous will-o'-the-wisps that too frequently mislead youth to dangerous places. Alf. A good wife, you say — true ; but they are as difficult to discover as the North Pole or a North Western passage. Mr. L. Ah, I see. You are a confirmed woman-hater. Alf. Not a bit of it, sir. I love all the girls to "distraction. Mrs. B. (coming down.) Why, Alfred ! I'm surprised at you. (7) Alf. Mother, in this world of innovation, and wonderful social and political revelations — be not surprised at anything — /never am. Kate. I must say, Alf., you give yourself a very bad character, when you speak of such serious matters in so trifling a tone. Alf. Ha ! ha ! Now just listen to Sis ! Oh, you are awfully in love — you needn't blush and turn away — you can't deny it. Kate. Alf., you might have a little regard for my feelings, I'm sure. Alf. Now hear her moralize ! Why, it was only last night I saw Willie Good- win kiss you till the room rang again ! Ha ! ha ! ha ! Kate, (going up with Mrs. B.) Oh, mother ! Mr. L. What ! William Goodwin, the young lawyer? I admire your taste, Miss Baker. There is nothing to be ashamed of in honest love. Alf. That's what / tell her Mr. L. He is indeed a talented lawyer, and what is more to be respected — a man of honor. I've known his family for many years, and they are acquaintances to be well proud of. Alf. Will is a splendid fellow ; you ought to see him play billiards in — Kate. 'Tis not so ! He doesn't play billiards ! Mrs. B. What ! can it be true — does he go into billiard saloons? Alf. Who said he did ? Mrs. B. You said he played billiards in — Alf. ' In the Court Room, yes. You ought to see him play a full game at Law ! Oh, how he does chalk his opportunity and handle every cue thrown out. Then to see him knock the evidence, pro. and con., about like so many balls upon a table. Then he watches, takes aim, plays his points well, knocks the run out of his oppo- nent, makes for himself a full score out of the case, and without discount to his rep- utation pockets his fee, and the blessings of his client. Mrs. B. Dear, dear ! drat it all — what a boy it is ! I declare, he sometimes makes me tremble for his future. Mrs. L. Never fear — his future is bright enough, and I can well believe he will yet put to blush the idle forebodings of croaking enemies. Alf. Get along ! why of course I will. Is it because a fellow is jolly that he must go to the bad ? Fudge ! The people who the quickest come to no good, are those sniveling fools who, with a look of sanctity and a smile that smacks of the tomb — a sinister, oily, to-good-to-live-in-this-world kind of bearing — it is those very people who are the most dangerous, and either end their lives upon the scaffold, or in a paupers grave. The prisons are full of that class despoiled of their artificial covering. As for me — while I have health, strength and a clear conscience — let me be jolly. M rs. L. You are right, Alfred ; smile while you can — when troubles beset you, it is time enough for those to weep who cannot fight against them. Kate. Yes, but he's never serious — not even in church, — not for a moment. If you want to have some important talk with him, he says — "Oh, call again to-morrow — I'm laughing how !'' I really believe if he wa« in deep trouble, he'd look upon it as a mere joke. Alf. Of course I would. I'd laugh myself out of it and shame the d — hem ! world, I mean. A man who laughs from his heart, looks pleasantly upon the world, and does not magnify its defects, why, such a man cheats the doctors and pays the butcher. A slice of good roast-beef for me ; a pill for those who like them. I tell you, Sis," you ain't half jolly enough ; you go about the house as if you had the cares of the entire world upon your mind. Ha! ha! oh, you're awfully love- sick. (8) Mrs. B. Alfred, what has got into you ? Do you no longer love your sister that you so disregard her private feelings ? Alp. What ! not love Sis? Why, bless her pretty face, why shouldn't I? (Kisses her.) It's only my fun, Kate ; it gets the better of me sometimes. You just wait till I'm 21 — that's all. Mrs. B. There he goes again — 21 ! Why, one would think there was something wonderful going to happen when he became 21. Alf. Why, so there is — I'll be of age — think of that — ,a man in my own right — an independent fellow-citizen — a free-born American, and a voter ! Think of that ! When I'm 21 I'll smoke my first cigar. Kate. Oh, dear, it'll make you terribly sick. Alf. Certainly it will — that's the jolliest part of it. I'll lay on my back, close my eyes, imagine myself the earth's axis, and the world turning upon me. Ha ! ha ! It must be funny ! Mrs. L. Have you seen little Charlie to-day? Alf. Yes, ma'am, I saw him and Walter awhile ago. playing horse. How jolly they were. Mrs. L. Charlie is a sweet boy ; one of the prettiest children I ever saw. Mrs. B. Yes, the little dear ; he always took such a fancy to me, and calls me grandma Mrs. L. It's curious he and Walter have not been here to-day. They have never missed a day. It is getting late, so I don't suppose they'll be here now. Mr. L. It is curious indeed, as you say, they have always called to see us every day. There is one thing very certain — there must be something wrong. I shall run around this evening and satisfy myself. Mrs. L. Probably Charlie has been playing too much and fatigued himself. I trust nothing of a serious nature has transpired. Mr. L. Sarah, I feel worried in my mind as. regards their great affection for Char- lie — he is petted too much. Ross seems to think of nothing else but him. It is wrong to idolize earthly things, for our pets are too often torn from us. ( Door bell rings very loudly.) Mrs. lj. Good gracious ! who can that be ! How my heart beats. Alf. Well, that person ain't bashful about ringing door-bells. Ha! ha! that was a jolly ring. Enter Ross, c. hurriedly, very pale and excited ; he sinks upon sofa. Mr. L. Good Heavens ! Ross, what has happened ? Ross, (faintly.) I've come to tell you that Charlie — has — has — been stolen ! Omnes. What ! stolen ? Ross. 'Tis too true. I am not able to give you the full particulars, but Walter saw two strange men drive off with him in a wagon. Mrs. L. Walter saw them — didn't he give the alarm ? Ross. He could not ; the poor boy fainted, and was brought home in an uncon- scious condition. The shock has so prostrated his nervous system that I fear he will long be confined to his bed. Mr. L. Why, Uncle, it can't be possible that — Ross. But it is possible ; if there was a doubt existing it would cheer my heart, at least with hope. Mr. L. Who can the two men be ? Ross. I know not. The law allows men of well known bad character — thieves, outlaws, murderers and what-not to walk our streets in perfect freedom. Can we feel protected while such enormities exist ? (9) • Mrs. L. Walter should not have left Charlie alone. Roas. Sarah, he should not — bnt he did. Mr. L. Have you made inquiries? Ross. Everywhere. I've telegraphed to the Police, giving Walter's description of the men — but as yet have received no answer. Alf. They must have been kidnappers. You can advertise, offering a reward, and I've no doubt Charlie will not be missing long. Ross. Alfred, you are too young to know of such things. Ale. Too young, am I ? No, sir. I've a pretty good newspaper education, and nearly every day have seen the papers filled with crimes — it is an age of crime. My brain, small it may be, but it's young and clear to make out this enigma — these men want money — not Charlie. Ross. And yet such things are permitted to exist in a civilized country. A man's property, life ; his good name and honor are no longer safe from the envious grasp of lawless men. Oh, Charlie ! Charlie ! where are you ? Heaven only knows ! When I'll see you again — Heaven only can tell. Mrs. B Oh dear, oh dear ! may be the men will feel they are doing wrong, and bring little Charlie back. Mrs. L. Ah, your too confiding, simple nature deceives you in such a belief. [In tears.] Is it possible that a fiend in human shape — not a man — can have the power of rudely tearing a darling child from its mother's breast ? There is no balm can heal a mother's breaking heart, when her child is torn from her. To bury our little dears in the cold grave, is hard — indeed, very hard to experience. We lay our little one in its earthly bed ; for awhile it is hidden from us, yet we know that deep down into that little mound sleeps our darling — lies a brilliant jewel that sparkles in our memory With kindly and loving hands we scatter sweet flowers, tiny buds, like the dear one beneath, to blossom for a day; then wither and die. We feel the presence of our darling, yet cannot see it ; but Hope whispers that some day in the Great Future we shall be re-united, never again to part. But to have a child stolen from us ! We know not where to' seek to find it ! Living, yet dead — an interme- diate state of existence. Parted from its parents, playmates and toys ; learning in time to look upon and call some unworthy creature mother ! — oh, it is torture — it is torture ! Mr. L. Don' grieve so, Sarah ; let us hope and pray that he may soon be found. We will all make diligent search — till the little darling is again placed in its moth- er's arms. Mrs. L. Does sister Anna know of this? Ross. No — no — I dare not tell her — I dare not ! Mrs. L. I'm afraid the blow will craze her. But you can't keep such a secret long from an anxious mother's inquiring mind, her instinct will discover her loss all too soon. Mr. L. The best way, to my thinking, is to keep the terrible news away from her as long as possible. She will gradually suspicion, within a few hours — especially when her darling continues to absent himself from her presence — she will feel some- thing wrong, and discover the truth when she is better able to hear and to bear it. Ross. I'll try to nerve myself for the best. If I hear nothing favorable by tele- graph, I will take the next train for Philadelphia — offer a large reward — place the matter in the hands of the detectives, and await the result. Mrs. L. I fear he is indeed lost to us forever. Mr. L. Sarah, where is your boassted courage now ! Mrs. L. 'Tis not vanished, Frank ; but this terrible misfortune has prostrated me for a time. Oh, will we ever see him again ? Alf. (c.) You will see him again ! (w>) Mrs. L. I trust — I pray so. But who will restore him to us? Alf. / will ! alive and well ! ! Omnes. You ? Alf. Yes, me ! It will be jolly excitement for me. Ross. What can you do — you have no clue. Alf. I will find one ! Mrs. B. Rash boy ! you will be murdered ! Alf. Oh, no I won't ! If I am, I'll die game in a good cause ! Mr. L. This requires serious thought on your part — don't be rash whatever you do. Mrs. L. He will not fail — I feel it. Kate, (clinging to him.) Oh, Alf., don't, don't go ! Mrs. B. You are the only one to whom.I can look up to, Alfred ; think of your mother — think of yourself — stay at home ! Alf. I do think of myself. A parent's love cries aloud for the restoration of their stolen child : I love adventure ; I am young and strong — and with Heaven's aid I'll restore Charlie Ross to his parents' arms in less than a month. Quick Drop. ■ S i ^ ft \V X v ^ c .Alfred. , P.. ACT II — On the Track. SCENE FIRST. Interior of a wretched apartment — ist Grooves — supposed to be a room in the Den. Door c. Old Bet discovered lying on a pallet of straw, l. c. She is a very coarse and besotted Irish woman. She starts up and looks about. Old Bet. Sure an' I've been dreaming — dreaming that I was a'floatin' in an ocean ov whisky. Bad luck to it, it was only a dream, an' th' aggravation makes me moighty dry — so it does. This kind of a sitivation is not to me taste ; me delicate constitooshun cannot abare it — so it can't. To think now ov th' children brought here ! och ! it's hard for the poor mother's ov 'em. There's that pale-faced gal up stairs — purty as a pictur : what do they want wid her anyhow ? Th' poor thing's gettin' nigh unto dead — so she is ; an' it's not for the likes ov sich as her to be here. But why do I bother meself about other's brats. Didn't some one swear agin me only boy, and had him tuck to prison for life ? But he soon died an' left me alone in th' world. Thin why do I pity other's brats ? Ha ! ha ! Let 'em cry an' break their hearts, as I cried an' broke mine when poor Patrick was torn from me. (Three (II) taps heard at door, c. ) Aha ! the signal ! ( Opens door ; Mosher enters with Char- lie asleep in his arms — wrapped in a cloak.) What ! another ? Mosh. (lays Charlie on the straw. ( Yes, old gal, another : the richest prize we're had yet. Bet. An' ye've drugged him too much, d'ye know it ? Mosh. Not a hit more than answered my purpose. He's had a beautiful sleep, and pleasant dreams, no doubt. Bet. Th' poor little darlint. Mosh. Poor ? rich, you mean — why, he'll be a United States mint to us — a reg- 'lar Bonanza. Charlie, (awake and starting up.) Wallie ! Wallie ! Mosh. What ! awake — confound it ! Bet. Och ! what a beauty it is ! Mosh. Bah ! beauty be blowed ! you caa live without it — see how old you are. Don't you get too chicken-hearted, old gal ! Bet. Chicken-hearted, is it ? th' diril ov a chicken's heart could beat around you — ye haven't got one — ye don't know what one is. Mosh. And don't want to. Char. Please, sir, won't you take me to my Pa and Ma? Mosh. Ha ! ha ! I think not, youngster. Char. Can't I see my Ma and Pa no more ? Mosh. Well that depends a good deal upon your Pa and Ma If their purse is long, why, we may oblige him. (Points to Bet.) That there woman's your mother now. Char. No she ain't — and 1 shan't call her my mama, either. She don't look nice and clean like my mama. Mosh. <">h, she don't, eh? Sav. look a. here, roung Prince of Chalk, don't you be so precious pa.rri' nlar — Vanse I've known some little boys to gei into trouble. You've heard on aissvap for ticklhv little boys' backs when rhey're unruly — haven't \CY ? Char. My papa never hurt me — i ain't a bad boy. Mosh. Oho ! your education has been awfully neglected. So if you ain't care- ful I'll give you a few lessons in How-to-catch-a-whipping— so that's settled. You'll find us first rate play-fellows here. We can break a head, cut a throat and pick a pocket in rar% style. You be a good boy, and I'll teach you how to make a great man of yourself, and if you're apt, and follow my advice, who knows but you'll some day sit in Congress! so follow your dear father's advice — I'm your dear father, d'ye see, and — Char. You ain't my father — you is too ugly and dirty. Mosh. What ! you young devil, I'll — Bet. Ha! ha! Don't ye get angry wid him — he only tells the truth. Mosh. Get out of my way, you old hag ! Bet. Hag, is it ? Ha ! ha ! Don't ye use sich heavy words — I've got a tongue as well as yerself. Mosh. Put the youngster to bed ; d'ye hear ? Char. I don't want to go to bed — I want my Pa and Ma ! Mosh. Oh, ye do, d'ye ? Is there anything else ye want ? Don't be bashful — speak right out. AVe'll get ye the moon, and two or three dozen stars, and a pound of the •sun, if ye want 'em. 'Eh ! oh, ye don't ! Well, I'm sorry— 'cause ye can have 'em, ye know, if ye like. Put him to bed ; d'ye hear? I'll go up stairs and see what's going on there. (Exit, h. i E. ) Bet. Come, I must put ye to bed ! Char. Won't you take me to my Papa and Mama ? Bet. Och ! me darlint, I dare not if I could — an' I don't know yer father an' mother, if I would. Char. Why won't you? Bet. D'ye think I want me throat cut for th' likes ov ye — ye little hop- ©'-me thumb ? Would ye hear him talk foolishness, now. Come, ye must go to bed an' drame ov bein a great man. Why didn't me brother Phil come to this beautiful country ? He was here only one year an' he became an American citzen an' voted ! so he did. Then he got in a scrimmage — tipped a man a few light blows on th' sconce — sarved two years in a certain stone house wid small winders ; and at the end ov five years he was elected Alderman — so he was. He's dead now — the broth ov a boy ! He lost his breath moighty sudden like — I won't say how — oh, but he was a great man. Och ! why did he die ? Re enter Mosh. Hallo ! not to bed yet, eh ? Bet. Well, I'm goin'. The young gintleman an' meself were talkin' about polly's-ticks. Mosh. Bah ! Instead of him sleepin in the usual room, I'm goin' to take charge of him myself. He's a valuable jewel, and might get lost. (Pulls Charlie over to him.) Bet. What d'ye mane by that ? Mosh. You can take any meaning from it you choose. Bet. D'ye mane to insinivate that I'm not to be trusted ?. Mosh. Few women are with such a secret. I don't know why you should be more than the rest. Bet. I've done enough dirty work for ye, an' thin ye turn agin me an' say I'm not to be trusted. Mosh. Well, you ain't. You drink too much whisky — you're drunk most of the time, and a drunkard ain't to be trusted with important matters. The next time I see you with a whisky bottle, you'll get into trouble — you understand ? Bet. I understand. (Aside.) I'll have me drop ov th' crather in spite ov ye an' th' divil. (Aloud.) Shall I take th' boy ? Mosh. No, I tell you — d'ye hear — go to bed ! (Bet goes out r. sulkily.) The old fool ! Come here, Peter ! Char. My name's Charlie, sir ! Mosh. I tell you it's Peter ! Char. It ain't ! — I know ! 9 Mosh, (Drawing a long cow-hide from the inside of his coat.) Isit Peter or not ! eh ? Say your name is Peter Smith or I'll flay you alive. Char., (falling on his knees.) Y — yes, sir ! Mosh., (threateningly.) Yes, sir, what? Char. My — my name is — Peter Smith ! Mosh. Very good — you're getting on right smart. I've hopes on you yet. (Aside.) His father has offered a reward of $20,000 for his recovery. No one knows of this boy as Charlie Ross except Douglass and myself — the rest of the gang must know nothing of it. I'll wait till he increases the reward a few thousand more, and if the detectives don't bother me — then the child's — the money's mine, and then ho ! for England, to live a respectable life and cut a dash. Ha! ha ! Come you, Peter Smith, come with me. (Exit, r. with Charlie.) SCENE SECOND. Exterior ot Den. A row of dilapidated houses. A practicable door in house, c. (flat.) (*3) Enter Simons, (cautiously.) Now for business. Money is scarce, and with me it's scarcer. Those children must be turned into cash — and that immediately. (Takes out letter. ) This letter must to Bolton as soon as possible — yet I must not take it myself — there's a fellow watching me yonder. I will get some boy to do the job. That young heiress imprisoned in the Den ought either to put out of the way, or my trouble better paid for. What a state the country is in, to be sure ! Why, even a thief will not act honest now-a days— not even to a pal. I must discover some other lay, and go it independently, on-my own hook. (Looking off, R.) Hallo ! here comes a young fellow dressed very poorly. Now I don't suppose he'd be par- ticular as to how he earned a dollar. I'll enlist his services — here he comes. Enter Alfred, r., dressed in an old suit of clothes. Sim. (tapping him on the shoulde..) Say, you're wanted ! Alf. (pretending alarm. ) Eh ? what for ? Sim. (aside) Hello! he's surely in the business. (Aloud) Why for that little affair the other night. Alf. (aside) He's a thief or a deteetive, and thinks I'm one of the swell mob. Ragged clothes always get a man into trouble. It's jolly funny. I'll gammon him — he may be a clue, (aloud) Very well, Mr. Detective, I'm ready — put me in the jug if you wish it — I'm fly. Sim. (aside) I'm right — he's the man I want. Thinks I'm a detective. How mistaken he is. (aloud) Well, I won't bother you this time. Alf. (aside) Nor any other time, eithtr. (aloud) Thank'ee. Sim. (hand on his shoulder) Are you busy ? Alf. Awful ! Sim. About what ? Alf. Doing nothing. Sim. Nonsense ! Alf. That's what I say. Sim. Do you want to earn a dollar ? Alk. Don't I? (turning out pockets) Look in them 'ere sockers and see if they ain't in need of scrip. Sim. Well, they does, rather. Are you honest ? Alf. Honor among thieves, you know. Sim. What ! Alf. Gentlemen, I mean, in course. Sim. Well, I've got a certain bit of paper here with private writing on it. Now I want to get it to a certain place, and I want an answer, (showing note) You'll get your monev, never fear. Mind, don't you let any one see you enter the place, for I— Alf. What place ? Sim. Why, here's the address, (gives letter) See? and don't let any one see you leave the place, d'ye mind ? Alf. Why are you so cautious, eh ? Sim. Well, I've got my reasons. Alf, Oh, you have, have you ? Say, look a-here old 'un, no tricks on travellers, you know. I'm not a young man from the country, but I'm a young man from prison lately — I've had enough of it — five times enough of it., I'm fly, / am, and I've no wish to get nabbed again. Sim. Oh, this is all right — it's reg'hir biz — this is. You deliver that, get an answer, and bring it to me — see? May be then I'll have another job for you — see? Alf. (aside) Who knows but what this may lead to something. I'll keep my eyes open and go it. (aloud) I say, Rocks, have you a bit of sweetmeat about your clothes ? _ ■ Sim. (presents large plug) Tobacco ! certainly — nibble as much as you like. Alf. (bites off a large piece and pretends to chew it) That's snifty stuff, that is. Have yer any budge laying around loose ? Sim This is a knowing one — this is — now he wants whisky. He's one of the right sort — he's a trump, he is — he'll be useful, (aloud, giving flask) I think after we know each other better, we'll be close friends — eh ? Alf. Shouldn't wonder — especially if we get in a cell together. Sim. Don't talk of such things — it gives me the epizootic of the heart. Come, you deliver the letter — get the answer, and bring it to me. I'll wait for you on the corner — understand? (exit, R.) Alf. I think I do — a little more than you care to have me. (looks at letter) Eh ? Why — (looking around) there's the very house ! why didn't he say so, or deliver it himself! Well, to work — who knows ; I may be on the right track now — a kind of lucky detective sailing with the tide, (knocks at door in flat) I wonder what kind of folks my friends inside are. (knocks) They don't hurry much — taking dinner, may- be. (Knocks) Don't trouble yourselves on my account, (door opens and old Bet appears) Hallo ! (starts back) The devil's own aunt ! Bet. What does yer want ? Alf. Mr. Martin Bolton, Esquire. Bet. Don't know no sich person. Alf. You don't? Bet. I don't ! Alf. You do ! Bet. Do I ? Alf. You does ! Bet. Well, then, I don't ! Alf. I tell you he is here, and I wants to see him, I does. What d'ye mean by keeping sich a downy cove like me a standing in the open air !• — does yer want to give me the dampness of the head ? Bet. Oh, I see, ye are one ov 'em, 'eh? Alf. One of 'em ! I'm two of 'm rolled into one. I'm a reg'lar out-and-outer. But as business is biz., 'spose you trot in and tell Mr. Bolton that a gentleman — that's me — is a waiting for him. Bet. Very well — I'll tell him — I'll tell him ! (shuts door and disappears. ) Alf. How particularly careful they are. 1 must know of what is going on in- side of that house, and 1 will, too. Enter Bolton from house. Bolton. You want to see me? Alf. If you are Martin Bolton, I do. Bol. Well, I believe that's my name — what's the text ? Alf. Well, I've got a sort of a billy-ducks for you. Bol. A letter, eh ! (takes it) Where did you get it ? Alf. It was given me by a jolly old cove I saw about here. He told me to de- liver this to you, get an answer, and I would receive the jolly sum of $1. Bol. (aside, reading the letter) Humph ! just as I expected ; so I was about to send a note myself — as I have it already written. I'll send it by this fellow as the answer. I donr know what we are going to do about the girl. The old fellow what hired us to do the job expects that the girl has been put out of the way. She is too beautiful— I can't do it ! She keeps getting worse and worse every day, and if (i5) there's nothing done for her soon she'll die on our hands. I must talk the matter over to the boys, (to Alf., giving note from pocket) Here's the answer — that's all. (Exit into house.) Alf. (solus) Good enough ! Ha ! ha ! here's a treat for me ! If I am not mis- taken, I am among the very people from whom I can learn all about Charley. There's • no one looking — shall I ? — I will ! (opens letter and reads) "The girl is still alive ; I don't know what to do with her ; she is very ill — I will do no murder in this case." What genial people these are to be acquainted with — it's through this kind of people that undertakers live, (reads ) ' 'She needs some one to take care of her. The old 'un is too drunk to nurse her. Do you know of any girl likely to suit ? — one who don't know too much. Bolton." (seals letter) I am on the right track. I must manage to re- lease that poor girl, whoever she is. But how ! Ah ! I have it — they want a girl — a nurse. By Jove — I'll turn myself into a girl — it'll be jolly fun. Here comes the old fellow for the answer — he's got tired of waiting. Re-enter Simons, r. Sim. Well did you find the place, eh ? Alf. (giving letter) Well, yes — I didn't have far to go. Ha ! ha ! You're a deep one, you are. I came near not seeing the cove, though. Sim. How so ? Alf. Why, there was an old gal there what said as how Mr. Bolton wasn't in, and — Sim. Oh, it was old Bet. Alf. You bet — -old and ugly enough, to be sure. Sim She's up to snuff. Alf. Yes, she looked snuffy. Sim. i reading letter) Hem ! Well, that's all — thank you — good bye ! Alf. Oh, yes, and at the same time — oh, no ! (holding out hand) Shell out — you can't hang up in this 'ere shop ! Sim. (shaking his hand) Oh, ah — good bye ! Alf. Say, looker here — I want that dollar. Sim. Eh! oh, oh, yes — I forgot, (gives note.) Alf. (looks at and hands it back) Oh, no you don't ! I've seen too much of the queer in my time. Sim. (giving him another) You're mighty particular, (aside) This is a sharp fellow. Alf. I wouldn't mind about the dollar for myself* but you must know I've got a sister what is a deaf mute — she ain't got no work now — she goes out nursing when she can, and — Sim. Ah ! does your sister want a situation ? Alf. Well. I should say she did, boss. Sim. Does she understand her business well ? Alf. She's right smart, you bet. Sim. Can she keep her tongue still ? Alf. She has to — didn't I tell you she's deaf and dumb? Sim. So much the better. If she wants the situation you can bring her down to- night. Tell her to give three taps at yonder door. But how will I know it's all right ? Alf. Well, I can't come with her, as how — I've got a job on hand to-night, and will be away — so take this ! (tears a button from coat) She will hand you cne ex- actly like it, and then you'll know it's her. Sim. Very good ! I'll be there in an hour. Success to your little business to- night — don't be greedy — ha ! ha ! (1 6) Ali\ Oh, no, I won't ! Ha! ha! Well, I should say I've succeeded A. i., so far. I'll run home, put on one of Katie's dresses — get Sammy Thorpe to help me if necessary — rescue the poor girl — learn all I can — and raise the devil generally, (runs Off, R. X E.) SCENE THIRD. The Den. The stage divided down the c, making two apart- ments. Door in partition connecting the two rooms Window in room r., door in room l. Bolton in room l., reading ; chairs on ; table and chairs in room r ; a couch in room r., upon which is Alice very pale; scene extremely dirty ; Bet sitting in a corner of room r., smoking a clay pipe ; moon through window upon the face of Alice ; music p. p.. "nix my dolly pals, etc." Bolton, (throwing down paper) Damn the fools — they have put the affair in the hands of the detectives, (walking about) If things don't take a more favorable turn soon, I'll send the boy off to California to some of the miners — they'll make short work of him. Enter Simons in room l. Sim. Hallo, Bolton ! Bol. Ah, Sim. Glad to see you. I say, why did you send that boy with the letter — why didn't you come yourself? Sim. Because I saw a cove laying about the street watching, I thought. Bol. A detective ? Sim. I don't know — I didn't recognize him as one of our old friends. Bol. A new importation, herhaps, working up the Ross case. Well, he's smarter than us if he gets him from our detective-proof safe — that's all I have to say, Sim. You're right. I've engaged a nurse for the sick girl. Bol. What is she like ? 4 Sim. Don't know — haven't seen her. Bol. What the devil d'ye mean ? Sim. Why, I've engaged her through her brother. Bol. Who's her brother ? Sim. The young fellow what brought the letter to you. Bol. Well, what's his game ? Sim. Oh, he's one of the boys. Bol. Is he ? Have you got a soft spot in your bullet head ? Why did you do such a foolish piece of business ? Sim. Oh, it's all right — the girl's a deaf mute — just the kind we want. Bol. Well, I hope it's all right. I tell you, look out for the cops ! They'll try all manner of dodges, and if one of 'em once gets in here, it'll be tough work for us. Sim. Never fear me ; I'm awake ; she wontb bla; 'cos why? — she can't. When she comes I'll ask her all the necessary questions in writing, and instruct her about the sick girl. Have you heard anything from New York to day ? Bol. Yes, I received a letter from Stumpy Jack. He says they are very sharp there just now, and wants us to take some of the chicks here, becouse they've got more there now in their keeping than they can look after. Sim. Well, we can't do it ; we've got more on our hands now than we can attend to. It's dangerous — take my advice — be careful. Bol. Well, you are right. I don't like those strange fellows hanging around here. We must hold a conference with all the boys to-night. Elder is a regular blood hound, and assumes as many disguises as the devil has colors. We must get rid of some of our overplus population ; they cost too much laying so long on our hands, and as re- wards are not offered to suit us, I don't see the use of giving ourselves so much trouble. Sim. Well, something must be done, and that soon, for if we should be discovered by — (three taps at door.) Ah, that's the signal ! Bol. What signal ? Sim. The one I told the girl to give, (opens door and Alf. enters dressed very dirtily in an old female dress, hood, etc., his face dirty and fully disguised — he comes dowa.) So at last ! Now to see if this is the one we expect, (draws pistol and pla- ces it to the head of Alf,, he holds up button which Simons takes.) All se- rene — 'tis the nurse. Here's the button ! Bol. (Looking at him fixedly.) Humph ! Dirty as the devil ! The sight of her is enough to kill instead of making well a sick girl. Call Bet ! Sim. (Opens door connecting with the room R., and calls Bet, who has fallen asleep.) Here, you old hag ! wake up — stir your stumps, and put out that pipe! You'll set the place afire some day, or ignite the whisky inside of you, and cremate yourself. Bet. Niver ye mind that — ye have no insurance on me. Sim. No — that's lucky for me. Here, that's the new nurse. You come with me while I question and give her instructions, (he beckons Alf. to follow, and both go into rooniR. Simons sets at table and writes questions to Alf., he replying in writ- ing.) Bet, you had better get her something to eat. I'll attend to her. Bet. All right it is. (aside.) Aha ! they throw me aside, do they ? Let 'em look to it — I'll have revenge. — bitter revenge ! ! (exits through doom.) Enter Mosher in room l. Mosh. Hallo, Bolton. Bol. Ah, just the man I want to see. How about the detectives ? Mosh. As thick as peas in a basket. They are all hungry for the reward. Bol. Well, that's business. Nothing new ? Mosh. Nothing very. Where's Simons ? Bol. Here he is. (enter Sim. from room r.) Well, is the girl all right? Sim. She is. She'il be a great help to us. Bol. Here ; sit down ! We must talk over business in the usual quiet way. (they sit around table and converse in dumb show.) Alf. (In room r) So far, so good, (sees Alice.) So that's the sick girl. How beautiful she is. (goes up to her. ) Don't be afraid — I come to save you ! Alice, (raising up.) You? Alf. Yes — hush ! I'm in disguise — I am a man. Al. Do I know you ? Alf. No. Al. Oh, for Heaven's sake don't deceive me — don't subject me to further tor- ture. Alf. Believe me ; I am sincere in my determination to rescue you. Al. If that be so, how did you know of me — what is your purpose — why did you come here ? Alf. I am in search of a darling child named Charley Ross, recently kidnapped. I heard of you accidentally— contrived to get myself hired as your nurse to rescue you. Why are you here ? Al. I was taken from my friends a year ago. (i8) Alf. When were you brought here ? Al. About six months ago. Alf. What were you stolen for ? Al. I was entrapped — I scarcely, know why, yet I have my suspicions, but care not to give them utterance. Alf. Are your folks wealthy ? Al. My father was very wealthy ; but both he and my mother are dead. Alf. What is your name ? Al. Randall. Alf. Randall — Randall ! Why, I had some friends of that name. How long have you been ill ? Al. Several months — but I don't exactly know how long. Alf. Poor gir.l ! I will save you from this vile den, or die in the attempt. Al. Oh, do not risk yourself for my sake — you know not the desperate character of the men you have to deal with. Alf. Oh, yes I do. In a case of right I'm a match for the devil and all his lesser imps. I have made every preparation for your escape, (goes to window) There's Sammy — it's all right. Are you strong enough to undergo the excitement ? Al. I will brave all to escape from this place ! Alf. Bravely spoken ! (wraps blanket around her) Don't be afraid ; I mean you no harm. My friend is without who will convey you to my home, where you will receive proper treatment, (whistles low — it is answered through window ; lifts her from bed and out of window) Be careful Sammy — make no noise. There — so — that's right. He descends the ladder with her — that's fine — he places her in the buggy, and — and away they go ! That's jolly ! Now for the next dodge. I'll fool the villains in spite of their teeth. Where's a piece of rope ? (finds a piece in corner) Ah ! here we are. (sits in chair and ties himself in it) Come, now ; the Davenport broth- ers couldn't beat that. Now I wish some one would come — ah ! they do. (drops his head upon his breast ) Enter Bet, R., with tray. Bet. There ye are, and — (sees Alf. in chair) eh ! what do I see ? tied in th' chair, and — (looks around) an' the' girl gone ! Help ! help ! Bol. (starting up) Ah! what's that? (;ill rush into room r.) Damnation! the girl gone ? speak ! Bet. (unties Alf.) I don't know anything about it. I went to get this girl some- thing to eat, an' whin I comes back, I finds one girl gone— the other tied in the chair. Mosh. There's something wrong — there's foul play here ! Who's this girl ? Sim. Oh, she's all right — I got her. Bol. Here — we must have an explanation of this, (takes paper and pencil from pocket, hands them to Alf., who writes — after which Bolton reads) What's this ! "Three men came in through the window — knocked me over the head — tied me to the chair — lifted the girl out of the window, and disappeared." We are discovered. We must change our quarters to Terry's Alley. Alf. (aside) Indeed ! I'll be there to see you — I know the place well. Bol. Why, that girl was worth $5,000 a year to us. Alf. (aside) Well, she ain't now. Bol. Whenever we wanted money, I went to her uncle, who paid me to get rid of her, so he might handle her fortune ; he thinks we killed the girl, and so when we are in want of the needy, I make him a call, get the necessary sugar to sweeten our pockets, and walk off royally — for the old codger don't dare to deny me — he's in my power. Alf. (aside") And your secret is in mine. (i9) Bol. (pointing to Alf.) That girl is a fraud — 'tis she who has done this ! Mosh. You're right — what shall we do with her ? Bol. Wring her neck ! Sim. Say, look here ! this girl is innocent ©f all. this — there is a traitor amongst us, but it is not the girl. More like Bet, if any one. Bet. Ye lie ! (aside) Suspected again, am I ? aha ! I'll give ye cause to say that soon — I'll warm ye all. Mosh. (to Sim.) You're a fool for bringing a strange girl here. It's such fellows as you that get the Royal trade in trouble — what will become of us all ? Bet. Och ! would ye kill the poor dummy — it's ashamed I am ov ye all. Mosh. You keep quiet if you know when you're safe. Boys, if this girl escapes us we are lost — so upon her to the death ! Sh