They found me dead, they thought,--no, not dead, Diego! It
was sad, they said,--unfortunate. They nursed me; they talked of
money--eh, Diego!--money! They would have pensioned me to hush
scandal--eh! I was a dog, a foreigner, a Greaser! Eh! That is
why I am here. No! I love you not, Diego; you are of his race;
but I hate--Mother of God!--I HATE him!
Sandy (rising to his feet, aside). Good! I begin to feel my
courage return: my nerves are stronger. Courage, Sandy! (Aloud.)
Be it so, Concho: there is my hand! We will help each other,--you
to my birthright, I to your revenge! Hark ye! (SANDY'S manner
becomes more calm and serious.) This impostor is NO craven, NO
coyote. Whoever he is, he must be strong. He has most plausible
evidences. We must have rigid proofs. I will go with you to Poker
Flat. There is one man, if he be living, knows me better than any
man who lives. He has done me wrong,--a great wrong, Concho,--but
I will forgive him. I will do more,--I will ask his forgiveness.
He will be a witness no man dare gainsay--my partner--God help him
and forgive him as I do!--John Oakhurst.
Concho. Oakhurst your partner!
Sandy (angrily). Yes. Look ye, Concho, he has wronged me in a
private way: that is MY business, not YOURS; but he was MY partner,
no one shall abuse him before me.
Concho. Be it so. Then sink here! Rot here! Go back to your
husks, O prodigal! wallow in the ditches of this camp, and see your
birthright sold for a dram of aguardiente! Lie here, dog and
coyote that you are, with your mistress under the protection of
your destroyer! For I tell you--I, Concho, the cripple--that the
man who struck me down, the man who stepped into your birthright,
the man who to-morrow welcomes your sweetheart in his arms, who
holds the custody of your child, is your partner,--John Oakhurst.
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