wn.)

Oakhurst (slowly and quietly.) The door is locked on the outside: that
may have been an accident. The caps are taken from my pistol: THAT was
not! Well, here is the vault, and here is John Oakhurst: to reach the
one, they must pass the other.

(Takes off his coat, seizes poker from grate, and approaches safe.) Ha!
some one is moving in the old man's room. (Approaches door of room R.
as--

Enter noiselessly and cautiously from room L., PRITCHARD, SILKY, and
SOAPY. PRITCHARD and his confederates approach OAKHURST from behind,
carrying lariat, or slip-noose.

Oakhurst (listening at door R.) Good. At least I know from what quarter
to expect the attack. Ah!

PRITCHARD throws slip-noose over OAKHURST from behind; OAKHURST puts
his hand in his breast as the slip-noose is drawn across his bosom,
pinioning one arm over his breast, and the other at his side. SILKY and
SOAPY, directed by PRITCHARD, drag OAKHURST to chair facing front, and
pinion his legs. PRITCHARD, C., regarding him.

Oakhurst (very coolly). You have left me my voice, I suppose, because it
is useless.

Pritchard. That's so, pard. 'Twon't be no help to ye.

Oakhurst. Then you have killed Jackson.

Pritchard. Lord love ye, no! That ain't like us, pard! Jackson's tendin'
door for us, and kinder lookin' out gin'rally for the boys. Thar's
nothin' mean about Jackson.

Soapy. No! Jackson's a squar man. Eh, Silky?

Silky. Ez white a man ez they is, pard!

Oakhurst (aside). The traitor! (Aloud.) Well!

Pritchard. Well, you want ter know our business. Call upon a business
man in business hours. Our little game is this, Mr. Jack Morton
Alexander Oakhurst. When we was here the other night, we was wantin'
a key to that theer lock (pointing to vault), and we sorter dropped in
passin' to get it.

Oakhurst. And suppose I refuse to give it up?

Pritchard. We were kalkilatin' on yer bein' even that impolite: wasn't
we, boys?

Silky and Soapy. We was that.

Pritchard. And so we got Mr. Jackson to take an impression of it in wax.
Oh, he's a squar man--is Mr. Jackson!

Silky. Jackson is a white man, Soapy!

Soapy. They don't make no better men nor Jackson, Silky.

Pritchard. And we've got a duplicate key here. But we don't want any
differences, pard: we only want a squar game. It seemed to us--some of
your old pards as knew ye, Jack--that ye had a rather soft thing here,
reformin'; and we thought ye was kinder throwin' off on the boys, not
givin' 'em