SAM.  Oh, yes—­got an expert to swear it looked like my writing.

EM’LY.  Tain’t a bit—­like it.

JIM. [To EMILY.] Did you see it?

SAM.  No, but I showed her part of the letter he wrote to the newspaper, saying I was innocent. [Feels in pocket.] Ain’t that strange?  Seems to be a kind-hearted fellow.

MRS. VERNON.  Jes’ drove to it I s’pose by drink.

SAM.  Here it is. [Hands paper to JIM.

JIM.  Hello! [Looks at KATE.

JOE.  What is it?

JIM hands paper to KATE.

KATE. [After slight start—­haughtily.] What do you mean?

JIM.  Oh, not you, Kate. [Smiling, to SAM.] ’Twasn’t Kate dressed up like a man—­no! [General laugh.] Oh, I didn’t think that. [KATE vexed, goes up-stage. JIM in whisper to others.] Mad? [JOE shakes his head; JIM nods interrogatively to MRS. VERNON.

MRS. VERNON. [Looking after KATE.] Well, I can’t see why.

Exit KATE.

JIM. [After another look after KATE—­to SAM.] Well, I suppose you know you’re watched.

SAM. [Indifferently.] How’s that?

JIM.  There’s a Pinkerton here—­come last night—­had a letter to me from the Chief—­sayin’ they knew of me, an’ hoped I’d co-operate with this fellow in watchin’ you—­and they’d pay well for it.

SAM. [Smiling.] What did you say?

JIM shakes head—­goes up centre.

EM’LY.  Why, Jim kicked him off—­of our stoop.

General laugh.—­LIZBETH crosses to forge and gets pan. ESROM enters playing jew’s-harp.

ESROM.  What about the coke, Mistah Vernon?

JOE. [At forge.] Don’t want none. [Suddenly.] See here; look at this clinker.

ESROM.  Can’t understand that—­shouldn’t ought to be no clinker in dat coke.

JOE.  Well, there it is—­hard as flint.

ESROM. [Examines clinker.] Funny clinker.

JOE.  Well, there it is.

JIM.  Hold on, Joe.  I shouldn’t wonder if that was that gumbo.

JOE.  What gumbo?

JIM.  The poultice.  I throwed it among that coke.

JOE.  Yes, here’s some only half-burned.

ESROM. [Going.] I knowed they shouldn’t ought to be no clinker.

JOE.  But look at this red piece—­as hard as a rock.

JIM. [Half-startled.] Why, Joe—­[Looks at him.

JOE.  What?

JIM.  Well, nothing—­

MRS. VERNON.  Well, what about breakfast, everybody?

JOE.  Let’s finish it—­come Sam—­

SAM.  I’ve had mine.

JOE.  Well, come talk to us.

SAM. [Going.] All right—­got heaps to tell you.

LIZBETH.  How do you like the Southern Hotel?

Exeunt all but DAVE and JIM.  JIM takes clinker and turns it carefully over in his hand.  Then looks through forge—­goes to bench near dog, and gets on hands and knees, looking under it.