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 I 
 
 CRIMSON 
 
 CRESCENT, 
 
 DBAMATIZED 
 
 BY 
 
 v 
 
 H. «. Calmer. 
 
 MINEEVA, OHIO: 
 
 H. H. PALMER, PUBLISHER. 
 
 fjm^sMimmirm&mms^s \ \ \ \ - 
 
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^m m m m^m « m m^^ 
 
 Cast of Characters. 
 
 Richard Bristol 
 
 Bvdd Bristol 
 
 Paul Potter 
 
 Dutch Duff, a Saloon Keeper 
 
 Julius Jenks, the Bar Tender 
 
 David Hyatt 
 
 Byron Bristoi 
 
 Mr. Flynn 
 
 Mose Magone, a Colored Tough 
 
 Mrs. Bristol 
 
 California Kit, a Lady Pugilist 
 Anna Hyatt, the Wife of David Hyatt 
 Phyllts Penrose, an Elderly Spinster 
 
 Severn] 
 
 Mi 
 
 Synopsis of Incidents: 
 
 ACT I. Richard driven from Home. Mrs. Bristol 
 stabbed and left for dead. Two strangers — but prove 
 to be mother and son. Mrs. Bristol and son escape their 
 pursuers. Richard takes the oath of vengeance. 
 
 ACT II. Paul Potter's first visit. The meeting of 
 Richard and California Kit. The Sjfaring match in a 
 Mining Camp. The Stolen Money. The Trial, boomed 
 to Death on a Raft. Paul Potter and Frozen Hill in the 
 Bar Room. The discovery in a Tool House. 
 
 ACT III. The Two Fathers in search of their < hild 
 ren. The Murder at the residence of David Hyatt and 
 the v ill I8ii meets his doom. 
 
 ACT IV . The arrival of the former nurse. Richard 
 to his Father's rescue. Richard fulfills the oath and 
 completes his revenge. Tableau 1h*f ended. 
 
 4 
 
{(icliai'd; 
 
 OR. 
 
 • 
 
 The Crimson Crescent. 
 
 -BT- 
 
 H. H. PALMER. 
 
 5) 
 
 +£====&4&====g+ 
 
 $ 
 
 ^ 
 
 -Entered according to act of Congress, in the gear I88j/ y 
 by H. H. PALMER, 
 
 in the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, 
 
 WIM-RVA, OHIO) 
 
 H. H. PALMER,Publisher. 
 V' I 8*7, 
 
TS43.T" 
 
 PRINTER, 
 
I^IGHAI^D; 
 
 OR. 
 
 The Crimson Crescent. 
 
 ACT I. 
 SCENE FIRST.— Kitchen in third groove— Bed r. of 
 c. d. — Mrs. B. in bed — enter Dick c. d. — Business. 
 
 Dick. Well, mother, he has ordered me to leave home 
 to-day, and I am going. 
 
 Mrs. B. I don't think it will make any difference, 
 ray boy, if you do go; he will not treat me any better 
 after you are away than he does now. Oh, Richard, I 
 cannot bear to see you driven from home; please don't go. 
 
 Dick. Yes. mother, I will go, and if that villian does 
 yon any harm I will wreak vengeance upon him. 
 Enter Budd, l. 1. e. 
 
 Budd. What's that you said, young man? I thought 
 I told you to leave an houi-ago. 
 
 Dick. I said I wa*s going, and I also said that if you 
 harm my mother, I would have revenge. Now beware. 
 
 Budd. What do you mean, you young hound! 
 
 Mrs. B. Oh, sir. do not drive my boy out in this ter- 
 rible storm. 
 
 Budd. You shut your infernal mouth, or I'll choke 
 you. 
 
 Mrs. B. Budd Bristol, would you dare? 
 
 Budd. Yes, [Business. — Chord coming down. 
 
4 RICHARD; or, THE CRIMSON CRESCENT. 
 
 Dick. Stop! You dastardly villain, if you stir out 
 of your tracks I will blow you into eternity. 
 
 Budd. What! How dare you. 
 
 Dick. Sir, your vile treatment towards my mother 
 has aroused me. 
 
 Mrs. B. Oh, Richard, do not kill him, please don't. 
 
 Dick. Very well, mother, for your sake I will not, 
 but if he ever should molest you, let me know, and he 
 shall pay the penalty. 
 
 Budd. Curse you, the day will come when you will 
 be sorry for this, boy. ■ Exit Budd, l. 1. e. 
 
 Dick. Well, mother, I will go. Goo<\-bye\Business. 
 
 Mrs. B. Good-bye Richard, be a good boy and may 
 God bless 3 T ou. Exit Dick r. 2 e. 
 
 SCENE SECOND.— Street in 1st groove— Enter Dick 
 
 L. 1 E. 
 
 Dick. Well it seems hard to be turned from home on 
 a cold and stormy night like this, but no matter I'll pull 
 through some way, for it's a long lane that never turns. 
 Exit r. 1 E. 
 
 SCENE THIRD.— Kitchen in third groove— Table at 
 R. of q. d. — Mrs. B. seated at r of table reading a letter 
 — enter Budd c. d. 
 
 Budd. Well, are you going to give me them papers, 
 or not? 
 
 Mrs. B. No, 1 will never give them to you. 
 
 Budd. Well, I'll have them, or take your lite. 
 
 Mrs. B. Sir, do you remember the warning Richard 
 gave you? 
 
 Budd. What do I care for him, he ain't here now, 
 and won't know who killed you. I will kill him also 
 then I'll fall heir to the Niobrara ranch, and will not 
 need the papers. So die. "Business. — exit Budd c. D. 
 
 Mrs. B. Oh, this is terrible. The villain has fled and 
 left me alone to die. But perhaps I can find Richard 
 and warn him of his danger before it is too late. 
 
 [ Exit. L 3 E. — Close in by irood in 1st groove. 
 
RICHARD; or, THE CRIMSON CRESCENT. 5 
 
 SCENE FOURTH.— Wood in 2nd groove.— Enter 
 Dick r. 1 e. « 
 
 Dick. Well, I have some kind of warning— there is 
 trouble at home, and I fear mother will yet suffer from 
 the hands of that villain, so I will go home and keep a 
 lookout for a while. 
 
 [starts offh and stops at center of stage. 
 
 Dick. Oh! Here comes a lady. I wonder who it 
 can be. Ah, she comes this way. 
 
 [enter Mrs. B. dressed in black heavily veiled. 
 Dick. Good afternoon. 
 
 Mrs B Good afternoon sir. [Business, 
 
 Dick. I say lady are you looking for any one in par- 
 ticular. J v 
 
 Mrs. B I am looking for a friend who resides near 
 this woods. 
 
 Dick. I know all the inhabitants within ten mjles of 
 here. Pray, what might your friend's name be? 
 
 M /s. B lam looking for my son, and his name is 
 Kichard Bristol. Do you know him? 
 
 Dick. Well, I should remark I do know him— why 
 that is my name. J 
 
 Mrs. B. Oh, no, it cannot be that you are my sou- 
 why he is not twenty years old, and I judge you are near 
 
 f>'. 7 „, , [Business. 
 
 Dick. What, mother is this you? 
 
 Mrs. B. Oh, my clear boy. I am so glad to see you. 
 [Business. \ But we must waste no time for we are in 
 great danger. 
 
 Dick. Danger? How so mother; has he done you any 
 harm? J 
 
 Mrs. B. Yes, but we must fly to a safe place of con- 
 cealment and then I can tell you all. 
 
 B™*. Mother, I know from the looks of your face 
 that you are very weak, but can you ride a long distance 
 on horseback? 
 
 n™L B 't> Yes ' if w wiU be of anv benefit t0 us - 
 Dick. But mother, why do you tremble so? 
 
 Mrs. B Oh, Richard. Budd Bristol tried to kill me 
 and l made my escape, but I fear he is on mv trial lona 
 ^re this. v & 
 
6 RICHARD; ok, THK CRIMSON CRESCENT. 
 
 Dick. Ob. I understand. Come mother with m< 
 my place of abode, and I wjll scwtn be ready. Once 
 mounted on my horse Fleetwood, they can never cat eh 
 us. So come now and we will soon be off. \efiit t.. 1 e. 
 
 SCENE FIFTH— Wood in 3d groove.— Business. 
 
 Dick. Come on, yon villains, come on. For, unle s 
 my horse fails me, you will never catch ns now. I am 
 much fresher for this long chase than you are, and my 
 brave pard Fleetwood is not blowing yet — are yon Fleet- 
 wood? Onceover yonder range of hills, I think lean 
 throw you off my trail. They are out of sight now. 
 mother, in that ravine. Now, if I can get over the range. 
 I hope I can find a place where you can rest for a few 
 minutes at least. 
 
 Mrs. B. Xo, no. my child, do not stop on my account 
 but keep on, Richard, until we are safe. 
 
 Dick. Oh, I am safe anywhere but I fear on your ac- 
 count and you are not strong enough to ride much lon- 
 ger without rest, and we must find a place of rest soon. 
 
 Mrs. B. Yes, we will fifnd a place of rest soon, it is 
 but a matter of time when we will all be at rest. 
 
 Dick. On, Fleetwood, on! Do your best old boy, now 
 if ever. \exit r. — Business. — enter Budd with 3 
 
 Budd. I tell you I saw him ride into these woods. 
 
 AIL Rut they are not here no^, as you can see. 
 
 Budd. Come on we may find them yet. Don't give 
 up men. it Budd with men R 1 e. 
 
 SCENE SIXTH.— Landscape in 3d groove.— Dick 
 rides on, dismounts and lays mother on stage. 
 
 Dirk. Oh, mother, are you worse; has this long ride 
 over-tried your strength? 
 
 Mrs. B. .No. my child, J am not worse; I am better, 
 O! so much better, and I am glad it will soon be over, 
 and then my poor boy I will be at rest, never to suffer 
 any more. You ought not to weep Richard, you ought 
 to be glad with me when you know how much I have 
 suffered. 
 
 Dick. Oh. mother, mother, can it be that you are 
 d v i n o ? 
 
RICHARD: or, THE CRIMSON CRESCENT. 7 
 
 Mrs B. Yes. my child I am dying so far as this 
 world is concerned — but only dying to4iye again, where 
 there is no sin nor sorrow. I have waited for this hour 
 to come and I am glad it is at hand. 
 
 Dick. Why? 
 
 Mrs. B. Life lias been but a torture for a few years, 
 and now that God will release me I long to go. Of 
 coarse I will have to leave you, my dear boy, but I hope 
 for your poor mother's sake, you will live such a good 
 life that we will meet each other before the throne of 
 God. Do not weep, my son, but listen, for these lips 
 of mine will soon be closed forever. You know some- 
 thing about our family matters — but not all. You know 
 that I am your mother. 
 
 Dick. Yes. 
 
 Mrs. B. You are satisfied of that. 
 
 Dick. Yes. mother, I am. For my very heart tells 
 me that, 
 
 Mrs. B. And you have always believed Budd Bristol 
 fo be your father? 
 
 Dick. I never knew t<? the contrary, mother, but 
 when three years ago, he drove me from home in the 
 dead of winter, then I had a suspicion that he was not 
 my father. A suspicion that has grown upon me ever 
 since. 
 
 Mrs. B. And it was right. Your name is Richard 
 Bristol, but you are not Budd Bristol's son. Listen; I 
 must tell you all before I go, or I will not rest easy in 
 ray grave. Years ago I married Bryan Bristol, your fa- 
 ther, and we came west and settled in Iowa, where we 
 took up land, and by the time you were born, we had a 
 nice farm of 360 acres and were surrounded by many 
 comforts. Finally Budd Bristol came to live with us, 
 and persuaded Bryan to move farther west; take up a 
 large ranch, and rent out our Iowa property. Budd off- 
 ering to supply half of the money for the new venture. 
 Well we left Iowa and came to Nebraska, and took up a 
 large ranch. My husband was hard-working and in- 
 dustrious but he took to drinking — it was Budd Bristol's 
 fault, as I afterward learned, who lured him to drink — 
 he drank up what money we had saved, then mortgaged 
 the Iowa home, and drank up that money also, and by 
 
8 RICHARD; or, THE CRIMSON CRESCENT. 
 
 that time he was down to the level of the sot — aye, 
 worse. Things went from bad to worse until my hus- 
 band was a total wreck. He had no mone} T or credit, and 
 he finally said if we did not give him liquor or money to 
 buy it with, that he would murder some one for their 
 money That night Budd Bristol murdered a man, as I 
 afterward found out, and accused my husband of the 
 crime. The next morning a citizen was found murdered 
 and my husband was blamed for the crime, and strong 
 threats of lynching him were announced but Bryan as- 
 sured me that lie did not kill the man and begged for 
 money to fly the country. I had no ready money, so I 
 begged a loan of Budd Bristol. I had to sign a paper 
 to the effect that at Bryan Bristol's death I would mar- 
 ry him or forfeit all right and title to the estate. 
 
 Dick. And you did this. 
 
 Mrs. B. Yes. I loved and pitied my husband and 
 could not let him hang. I signed the paper and Budd 
 Bristol gave me $5,000. I gave it to my husband, and 
 he fled, and I never saw him afterwards. 
 
 Dick. Well, you have aroused my curiosity. 
 
 Mrs. B. A year afterwards, when you were but five 
 years old, I read the death of Bryan Bristol in an Oma- 
 ha paper. It gave such an accurate account that I 
 thought it was him, without a doubt. After a period of 
 mourning I married Budd Bristol, as I was obligated to 
 him and to honor my promise. But I soon found out ni} 
 mistake, and the last 12 years of my life have been filled 
 with misery, and, when but a short week ago I learned 
 where to find you I fled to you to die. Before I left him 
 the demon gave me my death blow by stabbing me in 
 the breast, because I would not give him the papers that 
 rightfully belong to your father and you. This flight 
 has set the wound to bleeding and I am fast bleeding to 
 death — I have only a few minutes to live, but as I said 
 before, I am glad to go. In my pocket you will find 
 papers that will explain all. Of course as you are the 
 only child you will fall heir to Bryan Bristol's half of 
 the estate. 
 
 Dick. But did jcny father leave no will? 
 
 Mrs, B. Yes, that, too, is in my pocket, but do not 
 lose it or let Budd Bristol get hold of it, for when he 
 
RICHARD; ok, THE CRIMSON CRESCENT. 9 
 
 hears I am dead we will try to get you out of the way — 
 and your father too. 
 
 Dick. What! Does my father still live? 
 
 Mrs. B. Yes, Richard, I think he does. I made a 
 discovery. 
 
 Dick. What is it? 
 
 Mrs. B. I found an old letter that was written as late 
 as 4 years ago. It was written in Bryan's hand writing 
 and addressed to Bucld in person, and he asked a loan 
 of Budd of $50 to buy a set of mining tools. So you 
 see he lives. He wrote from New Luck, Nevada. That 
 was as late as 4 years ago, and I want you to try and 
 find him — I — I — there — there it's all over. 
 
 [Business — exit r. after laying mother on horse. 
 
 SCENE SIXTH.— Wood or landscape in 3d groove— 
 Tomb ston es — Bus in ess. 
 
 Dick. So Dead wood Dick is dead, eh? I have often 
 heard of him — he was the wonderful western detective, 
 fearless and bold, friendly to friends, but deadty to foes. 
 He was a dreaded detective" and an avenger to wrong 
 and evil doings. Why should I not be the same? I have 
 a debt of vengeance to settle; a good old mother's death 
 to avenge, and a father's ruin to repay. Yes, Buck! Bris- 
 tol, I will have 3 T our evil life for all the bitter moments 
 you have caused my poor mother, and for the cowardly 
 blow that killed her. Spirit of my dead mother, I swear 
 it here over the grave of him whose name I will assume, 
 I pledge my life to run him down. Hear me, O, ye who 
 keep the record book of vengeance, I raise my hand on 
 high and swear it. 
 
 CURTAIN. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 SCENE FIRST.— Parlor in 2nd groove— table c— 
 chair r. — chair l. — Anna at r. of table reading — Busi- 
 ness. 
 
 Anna. I wonder who that is. \enter Paul. 
 
 Paul. Does Mr. Hyatt live here? 
 
 Anna. He does, sir. 
 
 Paul. And are you Mrs. Hyatt. 
 
 Anna. I am. 
 
10 RICHARD; or, THE CRIMSON CRESCENT. 
 
 Paul. I would speak with you madam? 
 
 Anna. Sir, I do not know you. How dare you intrude 
 upon my privacy? 
 
 Paul. Because I dare. So you don't know me, eh? 
 
 Anna. I do not. 
 
 Paul. Take a good look at me, you may know me 
 after all. 
 
 Anna. I never saw you, sir, and if you don't leave 
 the house at once I will call for help. 
 
 Paul. No you won't. 
 
 Anna Why won't I? 
 
 Paul. Because you dare not. 
 
 Anna. Who are you? What do you want? 
 
 Paul. Tut, tut, not so fast, my dear, one question at 
 a time, and they will last longer. So you don't know 
 me, eh? 
 
 Anna. I have twice assured you to that effect. 
 
 Paul. But you see you are dead wrong. 
 
 Anna. I will converse with you no longer. Leave 
 my house at once or I will scream for help. 
 
 Paul. Then I will too, and then we will bring- the 
 whole town here, and, madam, your husband, 
 
 Anna. Paul Potter, you dare! 
 
 Paul. Ah, so you know me do you? Well I thought so. 
 
 Anna. Wretch, what brings you here? 
 
 Paul. I came to look at the face that once belonged 
 to me, my dear. 
 
 Anna. Bah, is that all. 
 
 Paul. No, Anna, have you not forgotten and 
 forgiven the past? Have you not some little spark of 
 love for me. 
 
 Anna. For you? No. 
 
 Paul. Oh, well you need not be saucy; no, don't be 
 saucy about it, Anna, it wont pay you. 
 
 Anna. What do you mean? 
 
 Paul. Precisely what I say. 
 
 Anna. Or, in other words you intimate a threat. 
 
 Paul. Hardly, my dear, hardly. When \ threaten a 
 person I come out point blank. 
 
 Anna. I wish you were dead. 
 
 Yaul. Oh, I don't doubt that — you used to wish that 
 L2 years ago. Why, it sounds like old times. 
 
RICHARD; or, THE CRIMSON CRESCENT. 1] 
 
 Anna. Stop! Do not anger me further, or I'll — 
 
 Paul. What? It's too bad about you Anna, you 
 ought to have gone into a convent to become an angel, 
 when 3^011 were born. By the-way, how do you like 
 Hyatt for a change? I suppose he makes a more model 
 husband than I did, eh? 
 
 Anna. He is a very king of men. 
 
 Paul. Indeed. Kind of a soft shell old turtle, eh? 
 
 Anna. Oh, no, he is a gentleman. 
 
 Paul. Then heaven only knows how you manage to 
 get along with him. You like him better than you did 
 me. 
 
 Anna. If I didn't I'd kill him. I worship the ground 
 he walks on. 
 
 Paul. Well, really, that's comforting assurance to 
 gain. But I can't see how 3 ou can like an old fossil 
 like him in preference to an able bodied man like me. 
 
 Anna. He is not an old fossil. He is an honorable, 
 upright gentleman. 
 
 Paul. And he has got an honorable wife, or, rather, 
 he has got some one else's wife, which is all the same as 
 long as he don't know it. 
 
 Anna. Curse you, Paul Potter, do you dare say I am 
 not lawfully his wife? 
 
 Paul. That's about the size of it, Anna dear. 
 
 Anna. You lie, you villain, you lie! 
 
 Paul. You should not say that for you know I way 
 brought up under the Washington code, and that I a! 
 ways followed the example set by the illustrious George. 
 Sit down, dear, sit down, I am not an artist or a sculptor. 
 Sit down. 
 
 Anna. I will not sit down. I hate you Paul Potter, 
 for I know you have come here to break up my happy 
 home. 14 years ago to-night I married you — 
 
 Paul. Correct, j-ou retain dates in memory quite well. 
 
 Anna. I was then only 17 years old. I married you 
 because I thought I loved you, but I soon found out my 
 mistake, but I kept it a secret and tried to make you 
 happy; we were poor, I took in work and tried to help 
 you along but it was all of no use, you took to drink and 
 after our baby was born you deserted me, did you not? 
 
 Paul. I did, Anna, because, as I told you then, you 
 
12 RICHARD; or, THE CRIMSON CRESCENT. 
 
 did not love me and that our lives would only be a tor 
 ture to us if we lived them out together. So I told you 
 to go your way and I would go mine, but that you must 
 never marry, and what did you do? 
 
 Anna. Stop! 
 
 Paul Do not interrupt me for I propose to finish 
 the story you have begun. After you left me you put 
 our child in a home, and there it died. You didn't even 
 go to see it after it was dead, but I did, and prayed over 
 its little body and thanked God for taking it out of its 
 misery. The next I heard, you had joined a strolling 
 theatrical party to play small parts, but made a failure 
 in that. You next joined a ballet troupe. I managed to 
 keep track of you. But that troupe finally discharged 
 you, then you had me arrested and pulled into court on 
 the charge of desertion. I refused to support you, and 
 got six months in prison, where my associates were 
 murderers, thieyes and gamblers.— That was nice— fine. 
 Well, after I got out of that, I made up mv mind to find 
 you— but I searched three years in vain. ' Then I put a 
 detective on your trail and he made a new discovery. 
 
 Anna. What? 
 
 Paul Oh, nothing much, only that you had been 
 married before I knew you, and had put the child you 
 had in your custody into the poor house: in a year or 
 two it was recognized by its former nurse and she took 
 it out and started West with it. 
 Anna. You villain, you lie! 
 
 Paul. Well, after I heard you had married David 
 Hyatt, and as I happened to be in town. I thought I 
 would make you a friendly call and see if you would be 
 glad to see me again. 
 
 Anna. Well, I am not glad to see you, so go! 
 
 [Business. 
 
 SCENE SECOND.— Saloon in 3rd groove.— Duff be- 
 hind the bar, and four miners seated on a bench, and 
 
 Dick on a chair at a table on other side of the stage. 
 
 Enter Kit l 1 e in new attire. 
 
 Kit. Good evening, fellows. I say. are you °-oina 
 to treat? ° 
 
 Flynn. No, we aint going to treat. Any one that 
 
RICHARD; or, THE CRIMSON CRESCENT. 13 
 
 slings on the lugs as you do with your Sunday togs, 
 
 the crold n too CaDe ' * t0 ** "^ t0 treat Mms * lf and 
 
 Kit. So you aint going to treat? 
 
 All. No we aint. 
 
 Kit. How is it with you, Dutchy? 
 
 Duff. No, you got noddings do drink vot yous don't 
 yas pay for. We don t do some of dot drust pisness 
 
 uptrachS. eh - Welh * th ° Hgbt ? C0Hld h ^you 
 ZMe*. My young friend, if you want a drink I'll 
 
 Ke a r dgar GlVe ^ ^ & drink ' bartender . and ™ 
 
 #?'#. Der girl? 
 
 Dick. Yes. The girl. 
 
 Duff. Und you vas a girl? 
 
 Kit. Why, of course, Timberger. What do vou take 
 me for? What do Hook like? * 
 
 ?J:-f- /.V. /oil vas look ust like a sissv dude 
 
 Kit But I aint though. I am a daisy you bet and 
 as fresh and fly as they make 'em . 
 
 he2lC-t,iJhi ,,y0 T d0i ,' t Vant t0 g0t t0 ° f^h arount 
 
 o, <W g .r m f ke mit yom " e >' e P lack < ^d den 
 
 vou dond yas got fresh some more, all at vonce 
 
 ven' dange^ul^^ S ° ? **• DHtCh * * «"7I«« «** 
 t> jV £ _ „ . . • , Business. 
 
 Kit. Come friend, let's take a seat over here. Do 
 
 you know, I kind of like you 
 
 Dick. Do you? Well," I guess I'll have to return the 
 
 a Zt T? v, d ° n,t take mUCb St ° Ck in * irl s P 01ts a 
 .1 inle, hut you are an exception 
 
 verv In™ ?A ? T WeH ' you ' U find out if . V011 ^ow me 
 
 br ,uoht !;„ ?n ,h ^ , n ° POt QOUSe P lant that ' s been 
 
 he plane n n Jf™ ^ m "' Se a P u « dog and P la Y 
 cne Pianei Oh, no, I can shoot, run, jump, swim, wres- 
 
 t tTan fh,S the, ' e . aint n ° -ore' oper^music' lout 
 
 me than there is m a hump-backed nen. Sav what's 
 
 a way"!™: got USe "* f, ' eShneSS fOT "*"* ^ ^ 
 i?-f '• t> Yo " may cal1 me Carl C1 Jde. 
 n ■ i. ' that is not your real nam e? 
 Dick. Maybe not, I may have a dozen names for that 
 
14 RICHARD; or, THE CRIMSOM CRESCENT. 
 
 matter, but one is as good as another. What is your 
 name? 
 
 Kit Kittie Kenyon. 
 
 Dick. What! Not California Kit, who is to box 
 with a big tough they call Big Mouth Mose? 
 
 Kit. The very same, you bet. Don't look like a 
 Sullivan, do I? 
 
 Dick. Indeed you don't. I have seen Mose and he 
 is a tough — a regular brute I should sav. 
 
 Kit. Ah! Is he? 
 
 T>ick. Yes. I doubt if I could knock him down. 
 
 Kit. So you aint much on the knock, I see. Well, 
 that's no bad fault. For a person that don't know how 
 to slug is less liable to go round with an eye in mourn- 
 ing than one that's got a pile of conceit. 
 
 Dick. Have you ever boxed much? 
 
 Kit. Well I should hum. I knocked out Big Bul- 
 lock at Shafer's Flats, two weeks ago, for $200 a side, 
 and did it in two rounds at that. Oh, I am a little 
 tough to fight. 
 
 Dick.* How old are you? 
 
 Kit. Now, look here. Aint that kind of an imperti- 
 nent question to ask? Don't you know young ladies 
 don't like to tell their age. If I should tell you I am 
 only sweet sixteen, and in 15 years from now try to 
 make out I am only 18 T then maybe you would be 
 around to give me dead away. 
 
 Dick. Well, you aint much over 16 any way. But 
 I wish I could persuade you not to box with Mose. 
 
 Kit You think he will do me. eh? 
 
 Dick. I certainly do. 
 
 Kit. You think he will spoil this pretty phiz of mine? 
 
 Dick. He certainly will. 
 
 Kit. And you would hate to see anything like that? 
 
 Dick. I certainly would. 
 
 Kit. Shake! I am with you on that: I don't want 
 to have my face mashed into a jelly, for I expect to use 
 it to catch i#millionaire with — when old Monte passes 
 out. 
 
 Dirk. Old Monte! Who is he? 
 
 Kit Oh. lie is my old dad — the worst old bum you 
 -aw in vour life* Yondl sec him around here be- 
 
•RICHARD; or, THE CRIMSON CRESCENT. 15 
 
 fore the evening is out. He always takes whisky — 
 when he can get it. 
 
 Dick. Oh, I see; you are troubled with an intemper- 
 ate parent that forces you to travel around and give 
 boxing entertainments lo furnish him with money to 
 buy whisky. 
 
 Kit. Troubled! Forced! Well I guefes not. Do I 
 look like a fresh young tenderfoot who would be troub- 
 led or forced? Nixie! The old man goes it on his own 
 hook and so do I, and as for Mose — I'll do him up in 
 no time, you bet ! 
 
 Dick. I am afraid you don't know your man. 
 
 Kit. Well, I know my biz, and don't you forget it. 
 Have you got any money to say I don't put him on his 
 back in the first round? If so, I am at home and ready 
 to entertain callers. 
 
 Dick. Do you mean it? 
 
 Kit. You bet! I am business every time, and my 
 name is Gal. Kit. 
 
 Dick. I haven't much money — just an even hundred 
 but I'll wager it that you don't knock Mose out in the 
 first round, if it busts me. 
 
 Kit. Very well. Keep the money in your pocket, 
 and here is my hundred — you are to be the stake-holder. 
 Here is also a sum of money that I want you to make 
 bets with. You will find plenty of takers, and you can 
 give odds of 10 to 5 that I will win; all bets to be put 
 up in good hands. You will excuse me now, as I will 
 go for my supper. Don't hesitate, but do as I tell you, 
 and you will find in Cal. Kit a friend worth having. 
 
 [Exit Kit l 1 e. 
 
 Diqk. Well, my first night in Bummer's Bar prom- 
 ises to be an interesting one. But how 7 came I to be 
 thrown in contact with this girl sport, Cal. Kit? Only 
 time can answer that. 
 
 [Enter Mose with money in hand l 1 e.] 
 
 Mose. Here I am, the boss slugger of Bummer's Bar 
 ready to bet big odds that I knock out the gal from 
 'Frisco the first round. Who will come and see me? 
 I'll bet a hundred to twenty-five that I knock the gal 
 silly. 
 
 Dick. Here vou are. I am ready to take a few bets 
 
16 RICHARD; or, THE CRIMSON CRESCENT/ 
 
 like that and put the money up in good h^nds. 
 
 Mose. Well, you'r my huckleberry. What's your 
 name and what's your pile? 
 
 Dick. My name is Carl Clyde, and I'll go you 500 
 on the girl from 'Frisco, at the offer you make. 
 
 Mose. What? 500? That's 2,000 agin your 500! 
 
 Dick. You bet. 
 
 Mose. I aint got but 1,000. Who will lend me a 
 thousand? 
 
 Paul. I'll back you for a thousand, if the money is 
 put up in the hands of David H}'att. 
 
 Mose. What do you say? Are you going to flunk? 
 
 Dick. Narry a flunk, we don't do business that way. 
 Will Mr. David Hyatt step this way? Remember gents, 
 I have got a few hundred left, and I want to see it all 
 up before the fun begins. Remember I don't want any 
 odds hereafter — any sum from one dollar up to 700. 
 Who will come and see me for a hundred. 
 
 [Enter Budd in disguise l 1 e.] 
 
 Budd. I'll take your full limit even, 3 r oung feller, 
 you bet I'll go ye. My name is Bill Carney, alias Froz- 
 en Bill, and if I get a chill just dose me up good with 
 whisky and I'll be all right. I caught the ager in the 
 army while handling a dead rebel's feet, and I aint got 
 over it yet. How much money have you got young feller? 
 
 Dick. $700 to bet that Kit wins. 
 
 Budd. Put up the money and I'll shiver me shirt off 
 if I don't jump it. 
 
 Dick. Right you are. Here is my money Mr. Hyatt. 
 
 Budd. And here is mine, Boss. 
 
 Mose. Oh, I'll paralyze; her the first time I hit her. 
 
 David. See here! Is this fight for a purse of money 
 or for points? 
 
 Mose. Oh, it's for points, I reckon. Old Duff got 
 up the funeral, and I aint heard anything bout no purse. 
 
 Duff. No, dose vellers fight ust for fun. 
 
 David. Indeed. Does this girl come all the way 
 from California just for the fun of fighting Big Mouthed 
 Mose? 
 
 Duff. Vel, no. Over she lick Mose, she vos got fifty 
 tollar. Julius say she vas von goot veller mit der gloves. 
 
 David. And suppose she don't lick Mose? 
 
RICHARD; or, THE CRIMSON CRESCENT. 17 
 
 Duff. Vel, den she got nodings. 
 
 David. This is shameful. No doubt the girl has 
 been brought here under false pretenses, and whether 
 she can fight or not, she will not go awaj' empty-hand- 
 ed. I'll put up a purse of $100,and the winner takes it. 
 
 Duff. Vel, Mr. Hyatt, as you vas so liberal, I vill do 
 ust like you, und ve vill make it swei hundred dollar, 
 ust to make der thing exciting. 
 
 [Enter Julius followed by Kit r 3 e.] 
 
 Julius. Gentlemen, I have the honor of presenting 
 to your notice Miss California Kit. the champion girl 
 boxer of California. She is the winner of twelve glove 
 fights, and has never been defeated. She will spar with 
 Mose Magone, best three in five, but she would like to 
 have a friendly bout with some one, just to get her hand 
 in before the match begins. Will some one step forward 
 
 and put on the gloves with her. This is strange. 
 
 Are all you burly miners afraid of this bit of a child? 
 Miss Kit, do you see any one in the room you would 
 like to haye a bout with? 
 
 Kit. Yes, that gentleman over there, first, then with 
 Mr. Duff. Oh, I mean you Mr. Clyde, you need not be 
 afraid, I won't hurt you. 
 
 Julius. No, Mr. Clyde, you cannot refuse, for 
 this is to be a friendly bout, you know. 
 
 Dick. All right, give me the gloves. 
 
 Kit. Oh, take off your coat yon can't do an3'thing 
 with it on. 
 
 Dick. Why don't you take yours off then? 
 
 Kit. Oh, I don't need to, I can fight with it on. 
 [They put on gloves.] 
 
 Kit. Now then, when you see a chance, let me have 
 for all you are worth, and if you knock me down, I will 
 give you half the profits. 
 
 [She hits Dick on chest. Business.] 
 
 Dick. Try it over and see if you can do it again, I 
 recon I was going to sleep. 
 
 Kit. If so I guess I'll wake you up. [Business. 
 
 Dick. That is enough, I am no hog, I know when I 
 get enough. 
 
 Julius. Dutch Duff will now put on the gloves. 
 
 Duff. You'r a liar. I don't vas put on der gloves for 
 
18 RICHARD: or, THE CRIMSON CRESCENT. 
 
 nobody. 
 
 Julius. Oh, yes, you will. 
 
 Duff. Nix, not for Sbosepli. I vas no brize-v.W nnd 
 1 know nodings about dot pisness. You will have to 
 oxcuse me. 
 
 Julius. Shall we excuse him, gentlemen? 
 
 All. No, no, make him box. 
 
 Flynn. If he don't box with the girl we will buy our 
 whisky at the Horned Ace saloon. 
 
 Mose. You bet, we will tear down the ranch ifTJutf 
 don t box with the gal. 
 
 Buff. I dells yon, yentlemens, I don't know how to 
 box, I can t box, und I voiif, box. 
 
 Mose. Look here, Dutch v— von know me' 
 
 Duff Vel, I should smile, I 'vas know you a couple 
 ot dimes. I vas know you for swei tollar 'whisky bill 
 
 Mose. You lie! No >v look here, if you don't go urj 
 and spar with the gal. I'll climb over this bar ami chaw 
 oft your left ear. Do you b, 
 
 D,l .ff- Yaw. I vas not deaf like a pi ind man V 
 I box mit her, but over I get killed, I have von all ar- 
 rested for murter in der first degre* 
 
 [Business. Mi laugh at Duff] 
 
 Duff. (Jh. laugh, stamp, skump— id dond vas make 
 inemat i dond vas care over you vas Laugh your- 
 neats off your tain necks. 
 
 Kit. Oh, take it cool, Dutchy, aud don't get excited 
 1 won t kill you but a couple of times, being it's you 
 and you set 'em up so freely to-night when I asked 'you 
 lor a drink, you remember, and you called me a 
 
 Duff. You vont kill me only swei dimes? 
 Kit. No more. 
 
 Duff. Veil, over you hit me vonce, 1 haf you arrest- 
 ed for salt and butter. I vill stand no monkey pisness 
 und dond you forgot it. [Business.^ 
 
 A >t Now then, square off and come at me. Be sure 
 strike hard or you won't hurt me any. <)]„• two 
 three, [and she knocks him down.] 
 'Hits. Ready. Time. 
 ''■ Pv ehimminy. I kills you di- dim,.. 
 
 titf si tt ess. 
 
RICHARD; or, THE CRIMSON CRESCENT. 19 
 
 Kit. Now, gentlemen, if Mr. Moses will step this 
 way, I will try to do better by him than I did by your 
 German friend. 
 
 Mose. Hoop la!' You'll find you aint got no baby 
 to fool with now. 
 
 David. This contest shall be awarded according to 
 individual merit. 
 
 Kit. That is all we want. To the winner belongs 
 the spoils. 
 
 Jvlius. Ready. Time. [Business. 
 
 David. Pickpockets! — Guard the door and let no 
 man escape from this room! I have been robbed not 
 only of the stakes I held, but also of my pocketbook 
 which had a thousand dollar bill in it. Where is the 
 man who went through my pockets? 
 
 Dick. I reckon the man that took the money with- 
 out your knowing it, was sharp enough to get away 
 with it. 
 
 David. Indeed? Well, one would infer from your 
 words that you suspect I had a hand in the disappear- 
 ance of the money. 
 
 Paul. Of course that is what he means. If I were 
 you, I would not take such an insult from the young 
 whelp. 
 
 Dick. Who's a whelp? 
 
 Paul. You are, and I don't like the cut of your jib. 
 It's plain to see that you and the girl are a pair of 
 sharps and stand in together. 
 
 David. That has nothing to do with the money. 
 The main point is to find out who robbed me. I don't 
 propose to lose a thousand dollars and not know who 
 got it. 
 
 Dick. Well, I am a loser of 39 hundred dollars, or, 
 rather Cal. Kit is, for it was her money I was betting. 
 
 David. Who said you was not? But you seem to 
 think 1 had a hand in the robbery. 
 
 Dick. Nothing of the sort. 1 don't think you would 
 pick a man's pocket any sooner than I would. 
 
 Biidd. Look here, boss, may a frozen ager stricken 
 ice berg 'bout my size have a word to say? 
 
 David. Yes. if you can throw any light on the sub- 
 ject, o'o on. 
 
20 RICHARD; or, THE CRIMSON CRESCENT. 
 
 Budd. Correct boss, 'taint much, only a suspicion, 
 you see. 
 
 David. Out with it then. Who do you think took the 
 money. 
 
 Budd. Well, you see boss, the young feller on the 
 barrel might of stole the money and packed it in that 
 ar barrel till he could steal it out and get away with it. 
 If you search the boy I think you'll find your boodle. 
 
 David. Will you let us search you, young man? 
 
 Dick. No sir. 
 
 David. Oh, you won't, eh? 
 
 Dick. No, I will not! I am no thief and I won't 
 stand it to be searched like one. 
 
 David. We'll see about that — seize him boys. 
 
 Paul. So we caught you. eh? You thought you would 
 escape with the money did you? 
 
 David. Bind him. boys. [Business.] Stand aside 
 and we shall soon see if he is guilty. Ah, he has money 
 in his pocket. 
 
 Dick. That is mine, I wagered it with Kit, and she 
 won it. Give it to her. 
 
 Kit. Yes. he did, so let me have it, Mr. Hyatfc 
 
 David. I'll attend to that and take my own time 
 about doing it. too. I am going to have the money I 
 was robbed of, or make some one sweat for it. 
 
 Dick. Well, I aint got it, so let me go. 
 
 Budd. See if he stuffed it inter the barrel, boss. 
 
 Paul. Just my idea. He looks like a chap as would 
 steal things and hide 'em away. 
 
 Dick. I'll steal you when I get loose. 
 
 Paul Oh, you will eh? (then pulls Dick's ear.) 
 
 Kit. Take that, you villain! Any one that will 
 abuse a poor helpless prisoner ought to be killed two or 
 three times every ten minutes. 
 
 Paul. Never mind, my dear, I'll get even with you 
 for that. You'll find I aint a man to be insulted with 
 impunity. 
 
 Kit. Oh, aint you, I thought you was You go and 
 pull Carl Clyde's ear again, and I think you will change 
 your mind. 
 
 David. Break open the barrel and if the money aint 
 in it the boy aint guilty, for he aint got it about his 
 
RICHARD; or, THE CRIMSON CRESCENT. 21 
 
 clothes. Break open, -the barrel, I say. 
 
 Duff. Look here, poys, over you preak dot parrel, 
 you vas got to bay vor it, und don't you forgot dot. Dot 
 parrel vas mine. 
 
 Flynn. See here, dutchy, lock up yer jaw, or I'll 
 sick the girl on you. 
 
 All. The money! The money! 
 
 David. Yes, the money. And Frozen Bill was right 
 after all. So the boy is the thief. 
 
 Dick. I did not take the money — I swear it by all 1 
 hold sacred. A job has been put up on me, and I think 
 the man that calls himself Frozen Bill put the money 
 in the barrel. 
 
 Paul. That's too thin. 
 
 Bvdd. Of course it is. That won't work, young 
 fellow. 
 
 Paul. Come on boys, let's string the young cuss up. 
 
 AIL Yes, string him up! 
 
 Paul. I tell you, boys, he stole the money and hid it 
 in the barrel, just as Frozen Bill said, and it's plain to 
 me that the gal knew all about the stealing, and she too 
 ought to be hung along with him, for they are as slick 
 a pair of kids as you will find in a year's travel. 
 
 David. I quite a^ree with you, and by the rules of 
 this camp they must be punished. But we must give 
 them a trial, so as not to go contrary to the law. 
 Therefore, I will select a jury of three men, and I will 
 act in behalf of the people of Bummer's Bar as prose 
 cuting counsel. If the prisoners are found guilty, the 
 stakes I hold shall go towards building a jail in this 
 town. Are you agreed, boys? 
 
 All. Yes. 
 
 David. Then seize the girl and bind her too. [Bus 
 mess.] Now for the trial — but we have no Judge. 
 
 Byron. If it's a judge you want, feller galoots, allow 
 me to inform ye that the famous Judge Lynch has arriv 
 in town, and would be pleased to assist you on this oc 
 casion. 
 
 David. I will select Mr. Flynn, Mr. Duffy and Mr. 
 Jones to act as jurymen. 
 
 Byron. Yes, feller galoots, I'm the original Judge 
 Lynch, and don't you forget it, and if you want your 
 
22 RICHARD; or, THE CRIMSON CRESCENT. 
 
 pie-nic to go" off in first-class style, just 'pint me judge 
 of the ceremonies and there won't be a hitch or a balk. 
 I am Lynch that's the Judge, and I'm some on the 
 budge; I' m nigh all in a quiver, but I'll send that air 
 lad to a place warm and bad— Judge Lynclvs head- 
 quarters — Salt river. 
 
 Paul. Hurrah! First rate! Shall we appoint him 
 Judge on this occasion? You can. see he's the stuff. 
 
 All Yes he's the stuff. [Business. 
 
 /Jar id. Citizens of Bummers' Bar: We have before 
 119 two persons who tried to rob and defraud us, the 
 names of th<^ persons have been given as Carl Clyde 
 and Cai. Kit. or, in other words, Kit tie Kenvon. The 
 young man is charged with picking my pockets and 
 taking a roll of bills, and my wallet, which contained a 
 thousand dollar bill in it. It appears that the boy and 
 girl came to town about the same time, and are here for 
 the purpose of making money. The boy, after leaving 
 the stage, came and stood near me a few minutes, and 
 afterwards went and si! on the barrel that the money- 
 was found in. I felt the money in mv pocket just lie- 
 fore he left the stage. Now I will leave the case to the 
 honorable Judge and >)i\v\\ 
 
 Byron. The prisoners have no counsel. 
 
 David. No, and they don't need /any. As judge of 
 the court, you have the questioning power. 
 
 Byron. CarlClyde, arise. Prisoner at the bar, is 
 your name ( 'arl ( lyde? 
 
 Dick. No, sin 
 
 Byron. What is it then? 
 
 Dick. Richard Bristol. 
 
 Byron. Did you say von were Carl Clyde since vou 
 were in Bummers' Bar?' 
 
 Dick: I did. 
 
 Byron. What for? 
 
 Dick. Because I choose to. 
 
 Byron. Thunder, boy; did vou steal the motfey? 
 
 Dick. No, sir. I did not, 
 
 Uyron. Did you ever steal? . 
 
 Dick. Never. 
 
 Byron. How came \\w money in the barrel? 
 
 Dick. I don't know— I have no idea. 
 
RICHARD; or, THE CRIMSON CRESCENT. 23 
 
 Byron. Did you stand near Mr. Hyatt? 
 
 Dick. For a minute, I did. 
 
 Byron. Were not you and Cal. Kit trying to get* the 
 money? Are you not friends? 
 
 Dick. No, sir. I never saw or heard of her before to^ 
 night. 
 
 Byron. What is your business? 
 
 Dick. I have none just now, except I have been on a 
 prospecting trip and looking for business. 
 
 Byron. Sit down. Kittie Kenyon, arise. What is 
 your name? 
 
 Kit. Kittie Kenyon. 
 
 Byron. Where do you live? 
 
 Kit. Wherever night overtakes me. 
 
 ■Byron. What is your business? 
 
 Kit. Knocking out would-be sluggers, and tending ; 
 to my own business. 
 
 Byron. What do you know about this case? 
 
 Kit. Nothing: and I'll bet Dick did not have a finger 
 in stealing the money — he's not that kind of catnip. 
 
 Byron. Did you ever know him before to night? 
 
 Kit Nixee — no more than he ever heard of me. 
 
 Byron. Who do you think stole the money? 
 
 Kit. I reckon his whiskers yonder, that calls him- 
 self Frozen Bill knows all about the money. 
 
 Byron. What makes you think so? 
 
 Kit. Because he was the first one to know where it 
 was. 
 
 Byron. Frozen Bill, take the stand. 
 
 Budd. What do you want of me? 
 
 Byron. What do you know about the robbery? 
 
 Budd. Nothing. 
 
 Byron. Did you see Richard Bristol near Hyatt? 
 
 Budd. Yes; and so did others. 
 
 Byron. Say yes, sir, to this court. 
 
 Budd. Yes, sir, 
 
 Byron. Did you see the boy steal the money? 
 
 Budd. N-no — I mean no, sir. 
 
 Byron. How come vou to think the money was in the 
 barrel? 
 
 Budd. It just dropped into my head, sir. 
 
 Byron, Did you stand near Mr. Hyatt at any time 
 
24 RICHARD; or, THE CRIMSON CRESCENT. 
 
 while the boxing was going on? 
 
 Budd. No sir. 
 
 Byron. Are you a stranger in this camp? 
 
 Budd. Yes. I am from away up in Washington ter- 
 ritory, where it's cold enough to freeze a man in the 
 Summer time. 
 
 Byron. Your name is Frozen Bill, is it? 
 
 Budd. Yes, you bet — I mean yes sir. 
 
 Byron. And what is your last name? 
 
 Budd. My name is BilJ Buck. 
 
 Byron. Vey well, Buck, sit down. 
 
 Budd. Yes sir. 
 
 "Byron. Gentlemen of the Jury: I have questioned 
 as far us I see lit, and I'll be chewed up by catamounts 
 and snizzled at by snakes if I can see any evidence 
 ^ again the prisoners. 
 
 [Business. — exit jury and re-enter .r 1 e.] 
 
 Byron. Gentlemen of the Jury: Have you arriv at 
 r verdic 
 
 Fiynn. Your Honer: We have found the prisoners 
 guilty. 
 
 David. Then I, as chief of the law and order and 
 vigilance committee of Bummers Bar do hereby— 
 
 Byron. Sit down! Down with ve! I am running 
 this court, if the court knows herself, and if there is anv 
 sentencing to be done, I'll pretty nigh take care of that 
 job myself. 
 
 David. You haye nothing to do with that, 
 
 Byron. Them prisoners aint done anything to be 
 lynched for, and they aint going to be lynched. Prison- 
 ers: \ ou have been found guilty, and will have to be 
 punished. So I'll sentence you to be put on a raft. and 
 sent down the river, and if you don't get spilt off, you'll 
 be a long ways from here when you are rescued; and, if 
 you ever come back to Bummer's Bar, vou will be burned 
 at the stake, regular Indian fashion. Now, I'll leave it 
 to the crowd, if that aint a hard enough sentence for 
 the lads, since the boodle's been found. 
 
 David. I am satisfied men, let a raft be rigged and 
 set them afloat. && 
 
 ( David gets up and starts off r.) 
 Dick. Stop, Day id Hyatt! Hear me before you go. 
 
RICHARD; or, THE CRIMSON CRESCENT. 25 
 
 You think you are doing justice, but you are not; I did 
 not steal the money, and Kit is innocent also. I'll take 
 the trip alone, but do not send Kit adrift. 
 
 David. You both go together. [Exit and rig raft. 
 
 Kit. Do you think we can live through it, Dick? 
 
 Dick. Doubtful. The stream is rough and swift: 
 but if we do — 
 
 Kit. What then, Dick? 
 
 Dick. Vengeance -is mine. 
 
 Kit. Bravo! And count me in. 
 
 Dick. -Right you are. I would that my hands were 
 free that I could grasp yours. 
 
 Kit. True. I am glad the sentence is no worse, for 
 something tells me we will come out all right. How 
 lucky that Judge Ljnch passed the sentence. 
 
 Dick. How so? 
 
 Kit. Because he favored us. You remember me 
 speaking of old Monte? 
 
 Dick. Yes. 
 
 Kit. Well, old Monte and Judge Lynch are one and 
 the same. 
 
 Dick. The deuce you say? 
 
 Kit. You bet. Monte walked in and found us in 
 trouble and took the best way of getting us out he could 
 think of. He knew it would not do to try to ctear us. 
 so you see by the sentence he thinks we can get free. 
 Oh, Monte's a brick. 
 
 Dick. I should say so. And you are really his dau- 
 ghter? 
 
 Kit. Weil, no. We only pass off as father and dau- 
 ghter. I met him about a year ago. He was near dead 
 with the jims; I nursed him through, and we have stuck 
 together ever since. 
 
 [Enter Paul, David, Budd and Fiynn r 2 e.] 
 
 Paul. Yank ahold of them, boys, we will give them 
 a ride on a river that's worse than Salt river. [Business. 
 
 Dick. Beware, men of Bummers' Bar, for the curse 
 of the new Dead wood Dick is upon you ! I shall lWe 
 for revenge, so tremble when you see the sign of the 
 Crimson Crescent, for you have aroused my deepest 
 anger and hatred. 
 
26 RICHARD; ok, THE CRIMSON CRESCENT. 
 
 ACT III. 
 • SCENE FIRST.— [Business.] 
 
 Duff. Shendlemens, did you send der young devil 
 away? 
 
 All. We did, you bet. 
 
 Duff. Dot vas goodt, very sjoodt. It vos vet. oudt 
 sidt? 
 
 All. Awful wet. 
 
 Duff. Yaw, dot vas so. But vile it vas vet oudsidt, 
 dis vas der blace for beeples to go vat vas dry. [D*'# 
 takes a drink.] 
 
 [Enter Paul and Budd \. 1 E.] 
 
 Paul. Duff, give us all a drink. [After drink-inn. 
 Paul and Budd sit down fit table.] 
 
 Budd, Well, here we are, what do you want? 
 
 Paul. I want to talk with yon. You don't know me 
 it seems? 
 
 Budd. How should I know you. when I know no one 
 this far south? 
 
 Paul. Ob, give us ;i rest on t hat - it wo;/t work — 
 you *re not from Washington territory, any more than 
 i am. 
 
 Budd. You lie! 
 
 Paul. Look out — don't get too tongney, or I'll give 
 you away. 
 
 }i(i(ld. What do you mean? 
 
 Paul I mean that I know you and your past from 
 the time you married Alice Paulding until to-night; 
 Your name is not Frozen Bill. 
 
 Jin (Id. Who the devil are you? 
 
 Paul. Paul Potter, formerly of Boston. 
 
 Budd. Oh. you — 
 
 Paul. Married your wife after you deserted \\w. Of 
 course I did not know it until after I sounded into the 
 past life of Alice Anna Paulding; then I found that she 
 had been married to you before 1 knew her. and that 
 you had left her. and she had pnl the child in the poor 
 
 house. 
 
 Budd. We never had a child of our own. 
 
 Paul. Oh, I am aware of that. It whs understood 
 that the child had been adopted by you. hoping to make 
 money out of it, ;is the parent was wealthy; but before 
 
RICHARD; or. THE CRIMSON CRESCENT. 
 
 you got ready to spring your trap, however, the parent 
 failed for all he was worth, and it had been supposed 
 his child was drowned. He left Boston for good; you 
 had the child'* left on your hands: you and 3*011 r wife 
 had a quarrel, and you skipped out. 
 
 Budd. Well, you know too much. What else have 
 you been smart enough to learn. 
 
 Paul. Oh, lots more. 
 
 Budd. Well, what of it? What do you want — what 
 do you expect? 
 
 Paul. I'll tell you. You are a shrewd fellow, and as 
 bi^ a rascal as ever lived. You are here for a purpose, 
 Budd Bristol and that purpose has been accomplished. 
 
 Budd. Hush! Don't utter that name again. I 
 wouldn't have it known I was ever here for all the Nio- 
 brara ranch is worth. 
 
 Paul. I don't know about tbat. the ranch is worth 
 two hundred thousand at the least. 
 
 Budd. Perhaps. But go on. What do you mean by 
 me accomplishing my purpose? 
 
 Paul. Why. you done that when you laid the steal- 
 ing to young Bristol. Oh, I am a daisy, Budd, Y have 
 been watching you for some time. You have played a 
 strong game and may win yet. 
 
 Budd. You think you have me in your power, eh? 
 
 Paul. I suppose I have. But did not think of that 
 — no that aint my lay out at all. I know there are a 
 few obstacles between you and the Niobrara property— 
 your brother's son was one. 
 
 Wudd. Do you think he is effectually disposed of? 
 
 Paul. Yes. That raft could not live L5 minutes on 
 Reese river, and they will both be drowned. 
 
 Budd. I hope so. 
 
 Paul. But another obstacle was your wife — you set- 
 tled her —she is dead. 
 
 Wudd. Curse you, how do you know? 
 
 Paul. Because 1 do. 1 know where the hov buried 
 her. 
 
 Wudd. Then is there, any other obstacle? 
 
 Paul. Yes. Byron Bristol. 
 
 Budd. Bah. No trace of him can be found. I'm I 
 have had men hunting for him (or vears. 
 
^8 RICHARD; or, THE CRIMSON CRESCENT. 
 
 Paul. There are few things so easy to make — as a 
 mistake. I, too, have been on the lookout for Byron 
 Bristol, and know that he was alive and in Shaffer's 
 Flats two weeks ago. • 
 
 Budd. Then — 
 
 Paul* Hold on, don't get excited now, let me talk. 
 He has lost his mind from drinking and has forgotten 
 his own name. I expect him here any da} 7 , as he is 
 working this way. So it will be to your interest to re- 
 main in Bummers' Bar. And when he is out of the 
 way, the Niobrara ranch is yours. 
 
 Budd. True: and then I may naturally suppose you 
 will try to bleed me. 
 
 Paul. No, I have no intention of anything of the 
 sort. I have no objections to telling you, however, that 
 I am in for making a haul, and want the assistance of 
 a villain of your fire-proof calibre. 
 
 Budd. Oh, well, let's hear from you. You are 
 shrewd enough yourself, so I fail to see what you would 
 want with my assistance. 
 
 Paul. Well, two of a kind beat a single, you know, 
 whether it is an ace or a six spot. 
 
 Budd. Yes. 
 
 Paul. Well, listen, and I will give you an outline. 
 We will go back to Boston, years ago, when you were 
 wedded to Alice Anna Paulding. 
 
 Budd. Bah. To the devil with the woman. What 
 has she got to do with the case? 
 
 Paul. Steady now. You shall learn how as we pro- 
 gress. You and Anna were married young: you had a 
 position in the employ of a wealthy young blood named 
 Hollis — you were his valet. 
 
 Budd. Well, go on. 
 
 Paul. Hollis knew nothing in particular about you 
 — not even that you were married, and you went under 
 the assumed name of Joe Ferris. 
 
 Budd. Correct. 
 
 Paul Well, you stayed with Hollis for awhile, but 
 finally he caught you in his private office, and he dis- 
 charged you. This treatment aroused the villain in 
 your nature, and, partly out of revenge, and partly with 
 a yiew of extorting money you stole his little child and 
 
RICHARD; or, THE CRIMSON CRESCENT. 29 
 
 adopted it for the time being. A dead child was seen 
 floating in the Charles river and answered to the de- 
 scription of Hollis's, but the body was not recovered 
 and the parents finally gave up search and mourned 
 their child as dead. The loss of the child killed Mrs. 
 Hollis. Shortly afterwards, Hollis made an assignment 
 and left for parts unknown. You quarreled with your 
 wife, and left her. She put the child in the poorhouse. 
 and a year later I married her in Providence. Finally 
 we parted — she went her way and I went mine. 
 
 Budd. Well, what are you driving at? 
 
 Paul. You shall see. The Hollis child remained in 
 the poor house, but finally was recognized by a former 
 nurse. The matter was then investigated, and at last 
 the facts all came out, and made a great sensation. The 
 nurse gol the child by promising to devote her life in 
 searching for its father, whose whereabouts was un- 
 known. A search was made for you and you had to 
 skip out. But previous to this discovery Anna had me 
 jugged for desertion. When I got out I learned all 
 about her previous marriage with yon, and v*hen the 
 child's case was made public, I resolved to keep track 
 of it — and I have ever since, and also of you and Anna, 
 believing some day I would strike a bonanza. It was in 
 this way I came to know so much about your other mat- 
 ters. 
 
 Budd. But about the child? 
 
 Paul. Well, armed with proofs of the child's identity 
 Phillis Penrose, the nurse, wandered far and wide with 
 the child in search of Henry Hollis — Heaven only knows 
 where they did not go — finally, when the girl was twelve 
 years old, Phyllis, who was saving and had got a sum 
 of money, put her protege in a Seminary in 'Frisco to 
 be educated, and continued her search alone. The girl 
 only stayed in school two years, then ran away and was 
 lost all track of — eyen Phyllis could not find her. but 
 she kept on, and — 
 
 Budd. Go on: I am interested. 
 
 Paul. Are you ? 
 
 Budd. You bet. Much you have told me is news. 
 
 Paul. Indeed. Well, Phyllis Penrose arrived in 
 Bummers' Bar by stage to-night. 
 
30 RICHARD; or, THE CRIMSON CRESCENT. 
 
 Budd. Ho, ho! 
 
 Paul I tell you, I am on a hot trail, and if I am 
 not wrong, her former protege, Rolla Hollis, came in on 
 the same stage, and is now enjoying a voyage down 
 Reese river with young Bristol. 
 Budd. What— not CM. Kit? 
 Paul. Yes, you bet. 
 Buhl. What makes you think so? 
 Paul A discovery. * In dragging the girl to the 
 raff her sleeve became pulled above her elbow and ex- 
 posed her bare arm— and what do yo think I saw? 
 Budd. How should I know? 
 
 Paul I saw a crimson crescent upon her arm, about 
 the size of a silver dollar. 
 
 Budd. And the boy warned us to beware of the sign 
 of the crimson crescent? 
 Paul. Yes, I remember. 
 
 Budd. I remember now. Upon the arm of Henry 
 Hollis's child was a birth mark. It was a vivid crim- 
 son crescent. 
 
 Paul. Just so. ,i-i 
 
 Budd. Then there is no doubt but what the girl 
 boxer is Henry Hollis's child. 
 
 Paul. Or 'was, rather, for I am confident stu 
 drowned If so, all my long searching and scheming 
 baffled when I had begun to hope I was one the route to 
 a fortune. 
 
 Budd. How so? 
 
 Paul. I'll explain. It has been only* a tew months 
 since I discovered the whereabouts of Henry Hollis. 
 Budd. The deuce you say! 
 Paul No; Henry Hollis. 
 Budd. Where is he? 
 Paul. Right here in Bummers' Bar. 
 Budd. Great Julius Caesar! 
 Paul. No; Henry Hollis. 
 Budd, Still poor? , 
 
 Paul. Nixy -worth half a million if a cent. You 
 
 saw him to-night. 
 
 Budd. No! ._ „ .. 
 
 Paul. I say you did. The man called David Hyatt 
 and Henry Hollis are one and the same. 
 
RICHARD; or, THE CRIMSON CRESCENT. 31 
 
 Budd. By thunder, I believe you are right. 
 
 Paul. I know I am right — I have satisfied myself 
 on that point. And now, can you stand another stun- 
 ner? 
 
 Budd. Yes: bang ahead. 
 
 Paul. Well, Hyatt, or Hollis, rather, is married — 
 and his wife is Mrs. Alice Anna Paulding Bristol Potter 
 Hollis. 
 
 Budd. What! She here and married to Henry Hol- 
 lis? — Why, that seems hardly credible! 
 
 Paul. It's a fact, just as hard, and don't you forget 
 it. I know it to be so, for I have personally interviewed 
 her ladyship — and she introduced me to him as her 
 brother. 
 
 Budd. Well Til swear! 
 
 Paid. Now, I want you to join me in making a big- 
 haul. If we win, you get half —if we fail, we can skip. 
 
 Budd. How do you intend to work it? 
 
 Paul. Well, I have learned that Hyatt has got a 
 quarter of a million in cash; don't know just where it is, 
 but have found out that it is in this camp. 
 
 Budd. Don't Anna know where it is? 
 
 Paul. Yes, but she won't tell anything about it, for 
 she worships him. 
 
 Budd. Worships him, eh? 
 
 Paul. Yes. 
 
 Budd. But she could be worked under threat of 
 exposure. 
 
 Paid. True. But we can bleed Hj^att first on the 
 girl question, and then Anna will disgorge handsomely 
 rather than be exposed. 
 
 Budd. Ha, ha, you bet we will make Hyatt's fortune 
 look sick. 
 
 Paul. I should smile. But if we had the girl we 
 could get more money out of Hyatt. But that raft could 
 not live a mile on Reese river, and I know they are both 
 drowned long ere this. 
 
 Budd. I hope the boy is anyhow. Cure him, I have 
 hunted him ever since his mother left me and joined 
 him. We searched high and low for a whole month but 
 he finally got away. 
 
 PauL It's lucky you came here in disguise, for the 
 
32 RICHARD; or, THE CRIMSON CRESCENT. 
 
 kid would have killed you on sight. 
 
 Budd. But how did you know me? 
 
 Paul. I knew you were coming here — it matters not 
 how, but I dropped to you when you suggested he stole 
 the money. I saw you pick Hyatt's pocket and slip the 
 money into the barrel. 
 
 Budd. I believe you lie. 
 
 Paul. Not a bit of it. Now we have talked long 
 enough here so we will go to my room at the Hotel. 
 
 Budd. All right, let's have a drink first. 
 [exit Paul and Budd. — Close in with parlor in £d groove.] 
 
 SCENE SECOND.— Enter David c. n. takes seat at 
 table. 
 
 David. I wonder why I can't get that matter off my 
 mind — it seems to haunt me like some grim phantom. 
 They may not be guilty after all, and if not I am res- 
 ponsible for two lives. I wish now that I had heeded 
 the lad's request and spared the girl. [David gets up 
 and ivalks back and forth across stage.] I cannot stand 
 this — it seems as if I had committed a terrible crime, 
 and a feeling of guilt comes oyer me. Oh. what have I 
 done — consigned two human beings to a watery grave. 
 Great Heavens, what have I done? The past rushes 
 back upon me with sickening effect. I fancy I see my 
 own child drowning in the river — she who I have so 
 long mourned as dead. What brings to me these 
 strange thoughts? Can there be a possibility that she 
 is my daughter? Something tells me I must £0 and try 
 to rescue her. [Exit c. d. 
 
 SCENE THIRD.— Business. 
 
 Byron. Let me np! Let me up I tell you or by the 
 powers I'll cut your hearts out and trample them under 
 foot! Release me until I hunt down my bitter foe, for 
 I know he is in this very building, and I'll have his life's 
 blood for the wrongs he has done me. Oh, curse ye! 
 Curse you all! I see it all now — when it is too late. 
 My poor, long lost boy has gone down the river to des- 
 truction, and who sent him there? It was not me — his 
 father — no, no, it was you scullions who live in Bummers' 
 Bar, 3'ou sent my two babies to death, and I shall hold 
 
RICHARD; or, THE CRIMSON CRESCENT. 33 
 
 you responsible; and you,- David Hyatt, were the chief 
 cause of their death. You! You!! You!!! 
 
 David. What is the matter with him? 
 
 Flynn. You see, boss, it's a case of the trimbles. He 
 took a fit and seized Mose and choked him to death, 
 and we lassoed and bound him as you see. 
 
 David. Yes, he has a bad case of tremens. But if 
 he had a few drinks he would be all right, I think. 
 
 Flynn. That's what I told the boys, boss. Shall I 
 fetch some of the bug juice? 
 
 David. Yes. The poor man is suffering no doubt 
 for liquor, and I will do what I can for him, for I think 
 he will be of some use to me. 
 
 Duff. But he vas kill Pig Mose und he got no monej'. 
 
 David. Small loss to the camp, and besides he is 
 crazy, and is not responsible for what he does. Bring 
 the liquor, I will pay for it. Do you feel better now? 
 
 Byron. Yes, they have gone but they will soon re- 
 turn if I don't have liquor. But let me go; set me free, 
 for I must go in search of my boy, niy brave, handsome 
 boy. Set me free, I say, till I search for him. 
 
 David. Who do you mean? Who is your boy — not 
 the dare-devil who robbed me? 
 
 Byron. He did not rob you. It was not him ; it was 
 his enemy, and my enemy, who was in this room to-night. 
 I heard his voice and then my memory, which has long 
 been clouded, came slowly back. But not until after 
 my poor boy had been sent to destruction in company 
 with my ward, Kittie. Oh, set me free, I say, until I 
 go in search of them. 
 
 David. It will be useless for you to search for them, 
 for they are no doubt drowned long ago. But you spoke 
 of the girl as your ward; have you two been trayeling 
 together? 
 
 Byron. For about a year. She found me dying in the 
 mountains and nursed me back to life, and since that 
 time we have wandered about together. She was a 
 daughter to me and for years has been searching' for a 
 friend whom she had lost all track of. But the boy; my 
 boy, great Heavens, can it be that after all these years 
 of searching I have found him, only to lose him again? 
 No, no, he still lives and I must find him, and together 
 
34 RICHARD; or, THE CRIMSON CRESCENT. 
 
 we will unite in striking down the infernal villain who 
 has been the cause of my ruin — body and soul. Fie is 
 in this very camp, for I heard his voice to-night, even 
 though he did not recognize me. Release me, I say, for 
 I must find my boy. 
 
 David. Poor fellow, your mind is wandering again, 
 but you must be quiet for the present. 
 
 Byron. No, my mind is not wandering, but is as 
 clear as your own. The memory of the past has at last 
 returned to me, after all these years, and I see plainly 
 my line of duty. I must find "my boy, for something 
 tells me he is not dead, but is searching for his mis- 
 guided and Cain-cursed father. For the love of God 
 do not detain me longer, but let me go. 
 
 David. You speak like one who had known better 
 days, sir. 
 
 Byron. Yes, I was once comparatively a rich man, 
 but drink conquered me and was the curse of my life- 
 then something happened that severed me from those 
 who were near and dear to me, and I became a wanderer 
 upon the face of the earth. 
 
 David. But what assurance have you that the boy 
 who was sent down the river is your son? 
 
 Byron. Did he not state that his name was Richard 
 Bristol? 
 
 David. I believe he did. although he first called him- 
 self Carl Clyde 
 
 Byron. Well. Richard Bristol was the name of my 
 infant son I left in Nebraska years ago, and there can he 
 no doubt but what that young man is my own son — mv 
 wry heart tells me so, and also that he did not perish 
 in the river to-night. 
 
 David I hope that neither the boy nor the girl per- 
 ished, but 1 fear it is hoping against hope. I will re- 
 lease you if you will go with me to mv home ami accept 
 of some refreshments and better clothing; then if yon 
 wish to go, you will be at liberty to do so.' Will you <><> 
 with me? 
 
 Byron. I \y\\\, with pleasure. [Close in with street 
 in 1st groove,— Enter David and Byron, walk across 
 slowly, — Business. 
 
RICHARD; or, THE CRIMSON CRESCENT. 35 
 
 . SCENE FOURTH.— Parlor in 2d groove.— David 
 and Byron seated at table with refreshments. 
 
 David. Now, I want you to answer a few questions, 
 for they concern me much, and I have no doubt you can 
 throw some light upon the subject. 
 
 Byron. I will gladly give you an}' information in my 
 power, sir. What do you wish to know? 
 
 David. Tell me all you know about the girl, Dal. Kit. 
 
 Byron. That is not very much. As I have told you 
 we ran across each other about a year ago. and she 
 nursed me over a siege of the jams. Since that time w r e 
 have roved about together from camp to camp, wliere 
 the girl has given sparring exhibitions, and I have 
 managed to eke out a living at the Monte game. 
 
 •David. Where did the girl acquire her pugilistic art. 
 
 Byron. In 'Frisco, at school, I believe; but she ran 
 away from school to search after a companion — an 
 elderly spinster who had reared her from infancy, but 
 not finding the spinster, and being so clever at using 
 her lists she resolved to make a living by sparring, and 
 has not found the spinster up to date. 
 
 David. Has she no idea what became of this spinster? 
 
 Byron. No. Only that the spinster has been search- 
 ing for years for a man who has been lost from her. 
 
 David. Do you know the name of the man she has 
 been searching for? 
 
 Byron. I do not. Hut he is the father of the girl, 
 Cal. Kit. 
 
 David, Then, by Heaven, I have not been in error 
 after all, for the impression that came upon me after 
 they were sent down the river, bids fair to become real- 
 ized. Speak quick ! — Do you know this spinster's name? 
 
 'Byron. Yes. I never forgot it; her name is Phillis 
 Penrose. 
 
 David. Phillis Penrose! Then I too am a sufferer 
 by this accursed night's work, for the girl upon the raft 
 with your son was my long lost daughter. Tell me, did 
 you ever see a birth mark on her arm? 
 
 Byron. Yes, I have been shown it many a time. It 
 was a vivid Crimson Crescent. 
 
 CURTAIN. 
 
36 RICHARD; or, THE CRIMSON CRESCENT. 
 
 ACT IV, 
 
 SCENE FIRST.— Wood in first groove.— Enter 
 Budd and Pauljrom left and walk to c of stage. 
 
 Budd. I wish I knew if the boy was really drowned. 
 Pve got a sort of misgiving that he aint, and will give 
 me a dig in the back when I don't expect it. He is a 
 vengeful young whelp and aint none too good to do it. 
 
 Paul. Pshaw! You aint getting afraid, are you? If 
 you are, we might as well throw up the job and done 
 with it. 
 
 Budd. No, I aint getting afraid, only it aint a very 
 pleasant thing not knowing what minute may be your 
 last. Let's go into this tool house out of the wet; 
 
 [Business. 
 
 Paul. The boy is miles from here, floating in the 
 river, Til guarantee, and the girl too. It's a cussed un- 
 fortunate thing she was not kept off the raft. If I had 
 been positive as to her identity, I would have kept her 
 off, too. As it is, our only show is to work the money 
 out of Henry Hollis on the strength of promises. 
 
 Budd. I have some doubt about the matter. 
 
 Paul. I haven't. He'd be crazy to get some tidings 
 of her, and he will doe over liberal in advance, thinking 
 lie may find his lost daughter. Our lay out is to work 
 Anna first and make her disgorge, which we can do 
 without doubt. She is fairly in our power, and, as she 
 thinks so much of Hyatt, she won't give him up just to 
 save a little of his boodle. You leave her to me and I 
 will work what money away from her that is worth 
 working. 
 
 Budd. Sh — listen. 
 
 Paul. What for? 
 
 Budd. I thought I heard a groan. 
 
 Paul. Pooh? It was only the wind. I believe you 
 are getting to be a coward after all. 
 
 Budd. Nonsense. I tell you I heard the moan of a 
 human voice. Listen a few minutes, anyhow — ah! 
 there, did you hear that! There is some one in here — 
 have you got a match? 
 
 Paul. No. 
 
 Budd. Never mind I've got one. 
 
 Paul. The girl ! The girl ! 
 
RICHARD; or, THE CRIMSON CRESCENT. 37 
 
 Budd. True as thunder! How, in the name of com- 
 mon sense, did she come to be here, though? 
 
 Paul. No doubt she was rescued and brought here 
 for dead or to recover consciousness. If the boy 
 brought hei here, the young whelp may be back here at 
 any time, and it's high time we were getting out of this. 
 
 Budd. Who's getting afraid now? I agree with you 
 however, that it might not be healthy for us to be found 
 around here — but we must take the girl. 
 
 Paul Certainly. She is a prize too precious to lose 
 now that she is in our power. 
 
 Budd. Where shall we take her? She must be hid- 
 den, for the boy will search for her, if it was he who 
 rescued her. 
 
 Paul. There is no safe hiding place around here, ex- 
 cept in Dutch Duff's cellar, to which there is a back 
 outside door. You remain on guard, and don't hesitate 
 to use your pops if any one comes this way. I can bribe 
 Duff to help us out, for a hundred dollars. Have you 
 got that much? 
 
 Budd. I suppose so. Here it is, but mind you, I 
 am to get half we make out of the girl. 
 
 Paul. Of course. You will find me square with a 
 pal. [Exit Paul r 2 e. 
 
 Budd. Well, now is my chance to fix the boy, if he 
 comes after the girl, for I am sure it was he who 
 brought her here. [Enter Paul r 2 e. 
 
 Paul. Well, I saw Duff, and he is solid, so let's take 
 the girl to the cellar. [Business. 
 
 SCENE SECOND.— Street in first groove.— Enter 
 David Jollowed by Byron. 
 
 David. Well, we will get two horses and be off down 
 the river in search of our long lost children. 
 
 Byron. Very well, let's be quick about it. 
 
 SCENE THIRD. — Wood or landscape in second 
 groove and Mose leaned against scene dead. — Enter 
 Flynn and Jurymen, all branded. -^Enten Budd and 
 Paul. 
 
 Budd. This is bad business, and had we not kept 
 ourselves shady during the night, we would have been 
 
38 RICHARD; or, THE CRIMSON CRESCENT, 
 
 branded too. The boy is laying around somewhere hi- 
 ding, and if we don't look out he will single us out as 
 his next victims. 
 
 Paul. The outlook aint quite so pleasant as it was 
 I'll admit. I think we had better close up our business 
 as soon as we can and get out of the place. 
 
 Budd. But what can we do before Hollis and Byron 
 return? 
 
 Paul. We can go and see Hollis' wife, now is our 
 best chance. 
 
 Budd. But if we leave here some one may find the 
 girl, or Duff may betray us. 
 
 Paul. Not much danger of that I guess. Duff can 
 be depended upon to hold his tongue. I have found 
 him more discreet than you would suppose. If we want 
 to work Anna for any money now is the time, while her 
 husband is away. 
 
 Budd. Well, may be you are right, but if the girl 
 gets away our goose is cooked. Anyhow, go ahead and 
 we will try the job. 
 
 Close in by street. — Enter Paul and Budd lIe and 
 go across very slow. Clear stage and Jix parlor in 3d 
 groove. — Anna seated at table reading. — Enter Paul 
 and Budd c d. — Re-open showing parlor with window 
 at one side of c d. 
 
 Anna. Sir, what is the meaning of this intrusion? 
 
 Paul. It means that if you attempt to raise a noise 
 I'll blow your brains out. We are here on business, 
 and thought we would call while your dear David was 
 away and no one around. Sit down, Anna. 
 
 Anna. What do you want? 
 
 Paul Money. Do you know this man? 
 
 Anna. I do not, and I bid you both leave me, or I 
 will scream for help. 
 
 Paul. Do not try it if you value your life, for as sure 
 as you do, I will shoot. I am not to be trifled with to- 
 day — nor is my companion. We are here on the make, 
 and intend to win. You say you dotiot know this man, 
 but I know you do. Do 3^011 not remember your first 
 husband, Budd Bristol, alias JoeFerris?(s/*e starts back) 
 Ah, I see by your start that you do. Well, this man is 
 he, and he has the papers to prove it. I also married 
 
RICHARD; or, THE CRIMSON CRESCENT, 39 
 
 you years ago, and I too, have the documents to prove 
 it; and now you are, without ever being divorced, mar- 
 ried to David Hyatt, alias Henry Hollis, whose child 
 your first husband stole, and you and he kept secreted 
 until you separated, then you put the child in the poor- 
 house. 
 
 Anna. It is false, utterly false. I — 
 
 Paul. Nonsense, you are guilty of bigamy twice over 
 and we can prove it. Now if you wish to save yourself, 
 we have come to give you a chance. We must get out 
 of this camp in double quick order, but we don't pro- 
 pose to go without money. 
 
 Budd. Nary a time. You have led a crooked life, 
 but we are both willing to forgive you, and let Hollis 
 have you, if you come down with a boodle of decent 
 size, and if you don't, we shall expose your whole career 
 to Hank Hollis, and he will give you the grand shake. 
 
 Paul. Yes, and we won't only do that, but we will 
 produce the girl you stole from him and the proofs that 
 you put her in the poor-house. There now you might 
 as well come to time for we have got the drop on you, 
 and your only salvation is to pony up. 
 
 Anna. You have come here on a fool's errand, if you 
 expected to frighten money out of me, for I have not a 
 dollar in money in my possession — and if I had. you 
 would not get it. 
 
 Paul. Henry Hollis has money concealed somewhere 
 and you know where it is. 
 
 Anna. He may have a million for all my knowing 
 where it is. 
 
 Paul. Bah ! That wont work on us. You aint that 
 sort of a woman to not know where the money is. Why, 
 vou used to go through my pockets when I slept, to see 
 how much money I had, and it don't stand to reason 
 that you don't know where your hubby has got his 
 boodle stored. Come now, don't try to play off on us, 
 for it won't pay you. 
 
 Anna. I teli you, sir, that I know nothing about 
 where nay husband keeps his money — and if I did, I 
 would not confid the secret to a pair of wretches like 
 vou two. 
 
 Paul. Wretches, eh? 
 
40 RICHARD; or, THE CRIMSON CRESCENT. 
 
 Anna. Ye^. wretches — villainous wretches. 
 
 Paul. So you will risk exposure rather than pay us 
 for keeping your secret. 
 
 Anna. Yes, a thousand times, yes. 
 
 Paul I thought you told me you loved your Davy? 
 
 Anna. I love my husband, but not even to fear be- 
 ing turned out upon the world, would I dishonor my- 
 self by doing a wrong act toward him. 
 
 Paul. You are getting very conscientious, it strikes 
 me. I demand Flank Hollis's money— do you hear me. 
 I demand it. 
 
 Anna. It matters not. You will not get a penny 
 of it. 
 
 Paul. You defy me. curse you! 
 
 Anna. Yes. I defy you both. 
 
 Paul. Then, curse you, die! [Busines$.~\ Mercy! 
 Mercy! For God's sake, spare me young man! 
 
 Dick, You beg for mercy, you inhuman wretch V 
 Did you show me mercy when you sent me and Cal. Kit 
 down Reese river? 
 
 Paul. No. I did not. but I was in liquor then and 
 knew not what I was doing. 
 
 Dick. Indeed! I suppose you will say you was in 
 liquor when you murdered this woman? 
 
 Paul. Mercy, sir. I beg! -it was under great provo- 
 cations that I shot her.. 
 
 Dick. Because she would not become a traitor to the 
 man who believes her to be his lawful wife. Oh, I un- 
 derstand the whole story. Paul Potter, and know that 
 the man who leaped from the window is my worst ene- 
 my. He thinks he will escape me, but he will not. My 
 vengeance will as sure overtake him as the sun shines 
 by day. And as for you. you are one of those who 
 would have consigned me to a watery grave, and you 
 shall not escape me. 
 
 Paul. Mercy! Merey! Spare me. young man, and I 
 will be your devoted slave for life. I will tell you where 
 Cal. Kit is concealed, and 
 
 Dick. Do you suppose I do not know'? You ar< 
 fool as well as a craven! I saw you put her in Dutch 
 Duff's cellar, and before that, I overheard all }'ou told 
 Budd Bristol in the Daisy Saloon bar room. So you 
 
RICHARD; or, THE CRIMSON CRESCENT. 41 
 
 see, I know Kit's identity. Ob, yon are not the only 
 one I will wreak vengeance upon. So, as I have no 
 time to spare, say yonr prayers, if yon have any to say. 
 Yon need expect no mercy. — When I leave yon, yon 
 will be the second man in Bummer's Bar who bears the 
 sign of the Crimson Crescent. 
 
 Paul. Mercy — Oh. have mercy ! 
 
 Dick. Yon had no mercy. — One! [Business.] Two! 
 [Business and Paul stands up.] Three! [Business,] 
 Dick writes the note then exit out of the window thai 
 Budd went through. — Brand. 
 
 ' (Enter David and Byron CD.) 
 
 David. Great Heavens! There has been foul doings 
 going on here. What? My wife murdered and her 
 brother has no doubt been murdered while trying to de- 
 fend her. Away and warn the town of this terrible 
 tragedy. • 
 
 Byron. But you must not stay here alone, or people 
 may suspect you as guilty, [exit David and Byron c d. 
 (Closed in street. — enter Duff Fly nn and Jury branded) 
 
 Duff. Mine Gott, shendlemens, ve vas all got mur- 
 dered by dis veller what stamp us on der foreheadts, ve 
 all go deadt und den ve go — vel vere de tivil ve go an}~- 
 way. Oh, mine Gott in Himmel, I wish I vas pack in 
 Shermany vere der vas no Cal. Kits, no Frozen Bill's. 
 no murder pizness, no nodings. (Dutchy gets excited 
 and the men carry him off the stage.) 
 
 Flynn. Come boys let's take him home. [Easiness. 
 
 Duff. Yell goodt-py beeples I vas goin pack to 
 Shermany. 
 
 Re-open showing Parlor with window at side of c d. 
 table, chairs and sofa. — David and Byron seated on 
 sofa. — Business. — Enter Phyllis lIe. 
 
 David. Who are you? 
 
 Phyllis. You do not know me then, Henry Uollis? 
 
 David. What? It cannot be that 3^011 are— 
 
 Phyllis. Phyllis Penrose — a former nurse in your 
 family, whom you discharged before your daughter was 
 lost. 
 
 David. True. I see the resemblance now. Believe 
 me, Phyllis, I am glad to see you, for I have recently 
 learned of your devotion to the task of trying to find 
 
42 RICHARD; or, THE CRIMSON CRESCENT. 
 
 me. and restore to me my child. 
 
 Phyllis. I have traveled far and wide, Henry Hollis, 
 and it was only recently that I learned you were here, 
 so I came here last night, but did not bring your child. 
 
 David. So I am aware. But by strangest chance, 
 my daughter, in male attire, arrived on the same stage 
 that you did. She had been traveling for the past year 
 with this man, whose name is Byron Bristol. To her 
 discredit, she has been engaged in giving sparring ex- 
 hibitions. • 
 
 Phillis. I am aware of all that. Richard Bristol 
 lias informed me of the same, and Henry Hollis where 
 is your child now? For shame. To what terrible fate 
 did you consign her? 
 
 Doc id. For Heaven's sake do not mention that, for 
 my regrets are bitter enough. I did not know it was 
 my child — then. 
 
 Phyllis. Even though you did not, you were a 
 coward and a wretch to consign two innocent children. 
 as it were, to such a fate, the boy escaped and will 
 wreak vengeance upon you. * 
 
 R'lroy, Then thank Heaven, my boy still lives. 
 
 s. I have seen him and learned much from 
 him I did not know before. I suppose you did not 
 know that your murdered wife, was the wife of Paul 
 Potter, and that she was also married before Potter 
 knew her. Her first husband's name was Joe Ferris, 
 alias Budd Bristol. 
 
 Byron. What! Myfiendish brother? 
 
 David. 1 have learned about their marriage from a 
 note left by young Bristol. | Business. 
 
 Budd. There he is, alive and looking better than a 
 dead man yet. but he shall never live to interfere with 
 my claims on the Niobrara ranch. Fll draw a bead on 
 him that will finish him. [Business. 
 
 Dick. Die, murderer of my mother and would be 
 murderer of my father. — die like the dog you arc and 
 then my oath will be fulfilled to the letter. So die! 
 
 ' | Business. 
 
 Byron. My son ! My son! [ Byron <j<ds up,. 
 
 Dick. Sit down. You are my father, Byron Bristol. 
 but henceforth I am an outlaw and can be no son t<> 
 
RICHARD; ok, THE CRIMSON CRESCENT. 43 
 
 you. Outside the cabin yonder, lies the body of our 
 enemy, Budd Bristol. In killing him, I not only saved 
 your life, but avenged the murder of my dear mother 
 whom you deserted years ago. Here, sir, are the docu- 
 ments that will re-establish you at the Niobrara ranche, 
 where you ean spend your declining years in peace and 
 comfort. And as for vou, sir, this lady has, no doubt, 
 explained everything, except that your daughter still 
 lives. 
 
 Dae id. Thank God. 
 
 Dick. You need not, for she is far from here now 
 and you will never set eyes upon her again. By mutual 
 consent we have linked our fates together, and will be 
 married within a month.. You may hunt us,if you like, 
 but if you do, beware of the fatal sign of the '.'Crimson 
 Crescent." I swore to be revenged upon you — and this 
 is my revenge. ^ [Bed Fire. 
 
 CURTAIN. 
 
 NOTICE. — Please return this book to the Author im- 
 mediately after the close of the last performance, 
 together with all the properties you have belonging 
 to the same. 
 
&-* •♦- 
 
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 fW Shis ©lay must not be PER- 
 formed without permission of the 
 Author. Address him fop, terms, etc., 
 at (Qinerva, Ohio. 
 
HnSl" INGRESS"