Sandy. You? You do not know me!

Concho. Ah! you think, you think, eh? Listen: Since you left I
have tracked HIM--THE IMPOSTOR, this Judas, this coyote--step by
step, until his tracks crossed yours; and then I sought you out. I
know all. I found a letter you had dropped; that brought me to
Poker Flat. Ah, you start! I have seen those who knew you as
Alexander Morton. You see! Ah, I am wise.

Sandy (aside). It is true. (Aloud.) But (suspiciously) why have
you done this? You, Concho?--you were not my friend.

Concho. No, but HE is my enemy. Ah, you start! Look at me,
Alexander Morton, Sandy, Diego! You knew a man, strong, active,
like yourself. Eh! Look at me now! Look at me, a cripple! Eh!
lame and crushed here (pointing to his leg), broken and crushed
here (pointing to his heart), by him,--the impostor! Listen,
Diego. The night I was sent to track you from the rancho, he--this
man--struck me from the wall, dashed me to the earth, and made MY
BODY, broken and bruised, a stepping-stone to leap the wall into
your place, Diego,--into your father's heart,--into my master's
home. 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.)