KATE. [Fiercely.] And that is why you hate him!  You think he likes me!  You think if it hadn’t been for him I might have liked you!  Well, I do like him—­[Pause.] that’s why you hunt him!  It isn’t your duty prompts you—­it’s your jealousy!

JIM. [A pause in which he decides the question.] He’s in that closet.

KATE. [Turning.] He is not.

JIM. [Straddling a chair and facing closet.  Speaks in ordinary tone.] Travers, come out.  If you don’t come out, I’ll shoot through the door.

TRAVERS. [Bursting from closet and levelling pistol.] Throw up your hands!

JIM. [Pause.  In fateful monotone.] You’re a damn fool!  The sound of a gun now would fill both them streets with pitchforks.

KATE.  Don’t—­don’t—­shoot.

JIM.  Oh, he won’t!

TRAVERS.  Do you think you can arrest me—­alive?

JIM.  It don’t make no difference to me.

KATE. [Anxiously pleading.] If you are innocent, Mr. Travers—­if you have acted in self-defence—­

JIM.  Wait, Kate—­we ain’t got time to try him now.  He ain’t got time; the boys are waiting up at the Court House.  Mr. Travers, this young lady likes you—­very much. [He slowly rises.

TRAVERS. [Still covering him.] I know the cause of your hatred, Mr.
Radburn—­I know you are here because I love her.

JIM.  No, I’m here because she likes you—­if she didn’t like you ’twouldn’t make any difference to me how quick we came to terms; but she likes you—­your Pinkerton friend—­[Pause.  Indicating neck.] dead—­the boys are up at the Court House.  Clark is pretty hot about them Jumbo bottles, and they wouldn’t be reasonable—­my hoss is standing at the door—­with anything like a fair start he can hold his own—­Louisiana town is eleven miles away, and jist across from that is Illinois—­and then you’ll have to look out for yourself—­now go!

KATE. [With emotional appreciation.] Jim!

JIM. [With a restraining gesture.] Never mind, Kate.

TRAVERS.  You tell me to go?

JIM. [Pause.] Yes.

TRAVERS.  Why, there’s ten thousand dollars’ reward—­

JIM.  For the man that—­went—­in—­that—­car—­but you ain’t that man.

TRAVERS.  On your horse?

JIM.  Yes.

TRAVERS.  Kate—­[Starts toward her.

KATE. [Shrinking.] Oh—­h!

TRAVERS. [Holds out hand.] Jim Radburn!

JIM.  No—­I give you my horse, but I’m damned if I shake hands with you—!!

Exit TRAVERS.  KATE sinks in chair sobbing. JIM in doorway regards her tenderly.

CURTAIN.

ACT IV.

SCENE. Exterior of JIM RADBURN’S cabin-front, stoop and steps showing.  Rail-fence partly broken down is across the stage at right and continues in painting on the panorama back-drop of rough country with stacks of cord wood.  Many stumps showing.  A mud road winds into the distance, a stile crosses fence.