THE BIRTH OF THE RAILDRAMATIS PERSONFLELAND, THE KIDa Road AgentCOWBOY CHARLEYSame Line of BusinessHAPPY HUNTYDitto in All RespectsSOOTYMUGa DevilScene—the Dutch Flat Stage Road, at 12 P.M., on a Nightof 1864.COWBOY CHARLEY:My boss, I fear she is delayed to-night.Already it is past the hour, and yetMy ears have reached no sound of wheels; no noteMelodious, of long, luxurious oathsBetokens the traditional dispute(Unsettled from the dawn of time) betweenThe driver and off wheeler; no clear chantNor carol of Wells Fargo's messengerUnbosoming his soul upon the air—his prowess to the tender-foot,And how at divers times in sundry waysHe strewed the roadside with our carcasses.Clearly, the stage will not come by to-night.LELAND, THE KID:I now remember that but yesterdayI saw three ugly looking fellows startFrom Colfax with a gun apiece, and theyDid seem on business of importance bent.Furtively casting all their eyes aboutAnd covering their tracks with all the careThat business men do use. I think perhapsThey were Directors of that rival line,The great Pacific Mail. If so, they haveIndubitably taken in that coach,And we are overreached. Three times beforeThis thing has happened, and if once againThese outside operators dare to cutOur rates of profit I shall quit the roadAnd take my money out of this concern.When robbery no longer pays expenseIt loses then its chiefest charm for me,And I prefer to cheat—you hear me shout!HAPPY HUNTY:My chief, you do but echo back my thoughts:This competition is the death of trade.'Tis plain (unless we wish to go to work)Some other business we must early find.What shall it be? The field of usefulnessIs yearly narrowing with the advanceOf wealth and population on this coast.There's little left that any man can doWithout some other fellow stepping inAnd doing it as well. If one essayTo pick a pocket he is sure to feel(With what disgust I need not say to you)Another hand inserted in the same.You crack a crib at dead of night, and lo!As you explore the dining-room for plateYou find, in session there, a graceless bandStuffing their coats with spoons, their skins with wine.And so it goes. Why even undertakeTo salt a mine and you will find it richWith noble specimens placed there before!LELAND, THE KID:And yet this line of immigration hasAdvantages superior to aughtThat elsewhere offers: all these passengers,If punched with care—COWBOY CHARLEY:Significant remark!It opens up a prospect wide and fair,Suggesting to the thoughtful mind—mymind—A scheme that is the boss lay-out. InsteadOf stopping passengers, let's carry them.Instead of crying out: "Throw up your hands!"Let's say: "Walk up and buy a ticket!" WhyShould we unwieldy goods and bullion take,Watches and all such trifles, when we mightFar better charge their value three times o'erFor carrying them to market?LELAND, THE KID:Put it there,Old son!HAPPY HUNTY:You take the cake, my dear. We'll buildA mighty railroad through this pass, and thenThe stage folk will come up to us and squeal,And say: "It is bad medicine for both:What will you give or take?" And then we'll sell.COWBOY CHARLEY:Enlarge your notions, little one; this isNo petty, slouching, opposition scheme,To be bought off like honest men and fools;Mine eye prophetic pierces through the mistsThat cloud the future, and I seem to seeA well-devised and executed schemeOf wholesale robbery within the law(Made by ourselves)—great, permanent, sublime,And strong to grapple with the public throat—Shaking the stuffing from the public purse,The tears from bankrupt merchants' eyes, the bloodFrom widows' famished carcasses, the breadFrom orphans' mouths!HAPPY HUNTY:Hooray!LELAND, THE; KID:Hooray!ALL:Hooray!(They tear the masks from their faces, and discharging theirshotguns, throw them into the chapparal. Then they join hands,dance and sing the following song:)Ah! blesshd to measureThe glittering treasure!Ah! blesshd to heap up the goldUntoldThat flows in a wideAnd deepening tide—Rolled, rolled, rolledFrom multifold sources,Converging its coursesUpon our—LELAND, THE KID:Just wait a bit, my pards, I thought I heardA sneaking grizzly cracking the dry twigs.Such an intrusion might deprive the StateOf all the good that we intend it. Ha!(Enter Sootymug. He saunters carelessly in and gracefullyleans his back against a redwood.)SOOTYMUG:My boys, I thought I heardSome careless revelry,As if your minds were stirredBy some new devilry.I too am in that line. Indeed, the missionOn which I come—HAPPY HUNTY:Here's more damned competition!(Curtain.)
DRAMATIS PERSONFLELAND, THE KIDa Road AgentCOWBOY CHARLEYSame Line of BusinessHAPPY HUNTYDitto in All RespectsSOOTYMUGa DevilScene—the Dutch Flat Stage Road, at 12 P.M., on a Nightof 1864.
COWBOY CHARLEY:My boss, I fear she is delayed to-night.Already it is past the hour, and yetMy ears have reached no sound of wheels; no noteMelodious, of long, luxurious oathsBetokens the traditional dispute(Unsettled from the dawn of time) betweenThe driver and off wheeler; no clear chantNor carol of Wells Fargo's messengerUnbosoming his soul upon the air—his prowess to the tender-foot,And how at divers times in sundry waysHe strewed the roadside with our carcasses.Clearly, the stage will not come by to-night.LELAND, THE KID:I now remember that but yesterdayI saw three ugly looking fellows startFrom Colfax with a gun apiece, and theyDid seem on business of importance bent.Furtively casting all their eyes aboutAnd covering their tracks with all the careThat business men do use. I think perhapsThey were Directors of that rival line,The great Pacific Mail. If so, they haveIndubitably taken in that coach,And we are overreached. Three times beforeThis thing has happened, and if once againThese outside operators dare to cutOur rates of profit I shall quit the roadAnd take my money out of this concern.When robbery no longer pays expenseIt loses then its chiefest charm for me,And I prefer to cheat—you hear me shout!HAPPY HUNTY:My chief, you do but echo back my thoughts:This competition is the death of trade.'Tis plain (unless we wish to go to work)Some other business we must early find.What shall it be? The field of usefulnessIs yearly narrowing with the advanceOf wealth and population on this coast.There's little left that any man can doWithout some other fellow stepping inAnd doing it as well. If one essayTo pick a pocket he is sure to feel(With what disgust I need not say to you)Another hand inserted in the same.You crack a crib at dead of night, and lo!As you explore the dining-room for plateYou find, in session there, a graceless bandStuffing their coats with spoons, their skins with wine.And so it goes. Why even undertakeTo salt a mine and you will find it richWith noble specimens placed there before!LELAND, THE KID:And yet this line of immigration hasAdvantages superior to aughtThat elsewhere offers: all these passengers,If punched with care—COWBOY CHARLEY:Significant remark!It opens up a prospect wide and fair,Suggesting to the thoughtful mind—mymind—A scheme that is the boss lay-out. InsteadOf stopping passengers, let's carry them.Instead of crying out: "Throw up your hands!"Let's say: "Walk up and buy a ticket!" WhyShould we unwieldy goods and bullion take,Watches and all such trifles, when we mightFar better charge their value three times o'erFor carrying them to market?LELAND, THE KID:Put it there,Old son!HAPPY HUNTY:You take the cake, my dear. We'll buildA mighty railroad through this pass, and thenThe stage folk will come up to us and squeal,And say: "It is bad medicine for both:What will you give or take?" And then we'll sell.COWBOY CHARLEY:Enlarge your notions, little one; this isNo petty, slouching, opposition scheme,To be bought off like honest men and fools;Mine eye prophetic pierces through the mistsThat cloud the future, and I seem to seeA well-devised and executed schemeOf wholesale robbery within the law(Made by ourselves)—great, permanent, sublime,And strong to grapple with the public throat—Shaking the stuffing from the public purse,The tears from bankrupt merchants' eyes, the bloodFrom widows' famished carcasses, the breadFrom orphans' mouths!HAPPY HUNTY:Hooray!LELAND, THE; KID:Hooray!ALL:Hooray!(They tear the masks from their faces, and discharging theirshotguns, throw them into the chapparal. Then they join hands,dance and sing the following song:)Ah! blesshd to measureThe glittering treasure!Ah! blesshd to heap up the goldUntoldThat flows in a wideAnd deepening tide—Rolled, rolled, rolledFrom multifold sources,Converging its coursesUpon our—LELAND, THE KID:Just wait a bit, my pards, I thought I heardA sneaking grizzly cracking the dry twigs.Such an intrusion might deprive the StateOf all the good that we intend it. Ha!(Enter Sootymug. He saunters carelessly in and gracefullyleans his back against a redwood.)SOOTYMUG:My boys, I thought I heardSome careless revelry,As if your minds were stirredBy some new devilry.I too am in that line. Indeed, the missionOn which I come—HAPPY HUNTY:Here's more damned competition!(Curtain.)