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 any hand in the game. But thar ain't
anythin' mean about us. Eh, boys?
Soapy. We is allers ready to chip in ekal in the game.
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