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Theatre Royal

From Audio: Theatre Royal

Duration: 15:59
The Outcasts of Poker Flats
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The Outcasts of Poker Flats
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Mhm. Mhm. Yeah. Mhm. The National Broadcasting Company presents transcribed Sir Laurence Olivier in Theatre Royal. Mm. Mhm. Yeah. Mm mm. This is Lawrence Olivia. Today's play is adapted from a story by Bret Hart. Many of you will already be familiar with his tales of the West. His knowledge of those spacious days was gained from personal experience for Bret Hart himself was one of the famous 40 Niners he drew upon his own rich experiences. For tales such as the one will tell to death, I myself shall relate the story and play the part of Mr John Oakhurst. Here, then, is the outcasts of poker flat by Bret Hart. Well, mm. As Mr John focused gambler stepped into the main streets of poker flat on the morning of the 23rd of November 18 50. He was conscious of a change in its moral atmosphere. Since the preceding night. Two or three men conversing earnestly together, ceased as the approach and exchanged significant glances. There was a Sabbath lull in the air which, in the settlement unused to Sabbath influences, looked ominous. Mr. Oakhurst, com Handsome face betrayed small concern in these indications whether he was conscious of any predisposing cause was another question. Find a gentlemen. Yeah, mild weather for the time of the year market. I can detect a touch of frost in the air. Or is that merely my imagination? Maybe my first winter in poker Flat, of course. So I don't hardly know when we'll be having the first fall of snow. I guess we won't have to wait long, though. There's plenty back there on the Sierras. And the nights are kind of cold. Yeah. Heard any more about that holdup down the gulch? Yeah, we heard. Yeah, I reckon you know who did it. We know plenty, Oakhurst. You'll be known plenty yourself before. Much longer. Well, at least you can't pin that one on me. Maybe not. But there's gonna be some changes in poker flat before. Much longer. Yeah. Wow. Good day, gentlemen. Mm, I reckon. There and to somebody. Likely it's me, Mother. Mm. In point of fact, poker Flat was after somebody it had lately suffered the loss of several $1000 to valuable horses and the prominent citizens. It was experiencing a spasm of virtuous reaction quite as lawless and ungovernable as any of the acts. that had provoked it. Secret Committee had determined to rid the town of all improper persons. This was done permanently next day in regard to two men who were hanged from the bowels of a sycamore in the Gulch. Measures of a more temporary nature were then taken against Mr Focus. Oakhurst were running you out of town. We ask why, gentlemen, you're a no good gambler, and this town's got no use for you and the likes of you. You mean game to put a stop to card playing and poker flat? That's right. Well, I've had the honor of playing with every one of you these last few months. There was no card playing here until you came Oakhurst. You mean there wasn't a deck of cards here before I came? Now wait. You mean we ain't gonna let no more strangers from Lauren can't come here and clean us out? I thought you were better losers. Gentlemen, I apologize. We ain't aiming to start no argument. So cursed were running you out of town tomorrow. You and all your sort without a trial. I see, gentlemen, in this room that I've lost two more than once are they coming with me? If it hadn't been for some of us, you wouldn't have been going. Oh, cursed. You have been swinging back there in the gulch with Red and Cherokee. Well, gentlemen, perhaps you're better losers than I thought. Some of you tomorrow it is. Then I ask who will be coming with me. I think you said some others. Uncle Billy the Duchess and mother Shipton. Starting out under escort at dawn. Uh huh. Yeah. Mr. Oakhurst received his sentence with philosophic calmness. He was too much of a gambler not to accept his fate with him. Life was, at best, an uncertain game. And he recognized the usual percentage in favor of the dealer. Next morning, a body of armed men accompanied him and the rest of the deported wickedness of poker flat to the outskirts of the settlement. A cavalcade provoked no comments from the Spectators. Nor was any word uttered by the escort until they reached the gulch, which marked the uttermost limit of poker flat. Yeah, Wild. Oh, cursed. That's your way. And I guess you don't need anyone to show you. You're right. Hard. You'll be in Sandy bar before dark. The rest is up to you. Very hard ride for a lady. Ain't no ladies making the trip. But I know why you if you know what's good for you. Don't ever show up in poker flat again, speaking for myself. I ain't aiming to do that. All right, then don't. There's plenty more bows on that old sycamore for any of you that we set eyes on. Now get moving. The loggia. Yeah. Mhm. The road to Sandy bar lay over a steep mountain range In that advanced season, the party soon passed out of the moist, temperate regions, the foothills into the dried, bracing air of the Sierras. The trail was narrow and difficult. At noon, the duchess, rolling out of the saddle upon the ground declared her intention of going no further and the party halted. I ain't going another yard. It's plain murder, and I ain't gonna stand for a man. We'll take a little rest. They were hardly halfway through the mountains here. I don't care where we are. I ain't going no further. I'm sorry, ma'am, but we'd be crazy to stop here for more than a half hour and we can camp out here young better well to the wind here. And we're not equipped for a campaign. We're short on provisions. I don't care. I'm through your Pardon me, ma'am, There's no sense in throwing up your hand before the games played out. So we got liquor, ain't we? What more provisions do you need than a bottle of ride? Thank you. I never touch it. Well, I do. And this is one time for me to hear Mr Occurs. Drink this for the loan of your horse. Thank you, ma'am. I never drink. I found it interferes with my profession. Yeah. Uh huh. Mhm. Mhm. Yeah. The spot where they had halted was singularly wild and impressive. A wooded amphitheater surrounded on three sides by precipitous cliffs of naked granite sloped gently towards the crest of another precipice that overlook the valley above them. The towering peaks of the Sierras were glittering white with snow. Before very long, the liquor had begun to make it so felt. Uncle Billy was in a state of stupor. The Duchess had become maudlin, and mother Shipton had begun to snore. Mr. Oakhurst alone remain direct leaning against Iraq. Surveying them last, he dusted his black clothes, washed his hands and face in a stream and tried to forget his annoyance. The fault of deserting his companions never seem to occur. Mhm. Why, hello there, Mr Roker's. Hello, Tom. Well, Matt, what are you doing out here? I'm my way over to poker. Flat things A bit quiet back in Sandy Bar. I thought I'd try my luck someplace else. And the young lady, Miss Piney Woods. You remember Piney. Mr Oakhurst? She used to wait on table at the Temperance House in Sandy Boy. Oh, yes, of course. A matter of fact. We're riding over to poker Flat to be married. We've been engaged a long time, but old Jake Woods objected. So we're running away together. We aim to be married as soon as we get in. Well, congratulations, Tom. I wish every happiness, Piney. Thank you, Mr Okkert. Oh, gosh, you might talk. Well, come on and meet the others. Here. Duchess. Mother Shipton. Uncle Billy. I am Meet Tom Simpson, otherwise known as the innocent from Sandy Bar and Miss Piney Woods. They're going to poke a flat to be married. Well, nice place you picked here. You aiming to make a camp. That's right. That's what I told him. I reckon we ought to be pushing on Tom. We've got no provision with us, and we ought to be in Sandy Bar before nightfall. No, we're not leaving. That's all right. We have an extra mule loaded up with provisions. Reckon we might have to make camp ourselves. We'll go shares with you. Well, that's mighty May believe you, Mr Simpson. And there's a ruined log house just behind the trail about a half a mile back. Pioneer can stay with Mrs O cursed Mrs. Okay. Okay, Tom, the ladies can have the log house. Uncle Billy here. You and I can shift for ourselves. Well, that's just fine. Pioneers ready to drop. It's a hard ride into town. Either way, rest up for the night and started good and early. We'll be in by noon tomorrow. That's just what I was telling him we'd be crazy to go any further today. Well, I guess if Tom here is willing to take us to a meal, we can afford the delay. I'll be glad to after those $40 you gave me back that time. Do you know what you want? $40 off me at poker, all the money I had. And then he takes me aside and give them back to me, just so long as I never played poker again. Can you imagine you're a good boy, Tommy, but you can gamble worth of sand. Mr. Oh, cast seldom troubled himself with sentiment still less with propriety, but he had a vague idea that the situation was not fortunate. Mhm. It would have been far happier if Tom Simpson had written after his wedding, and the outcasts had pushed on through the mountains while the daylight lasted. As it was, the scene very soon became animated. The fire was lit for the evening, turned cold and overcast, and the little party ate their meal and laughed and talked in the fire. It was good to forget the darkness and the wind that rocked the tops of the pine trees, moaning through their long and gloomy I'll, it sure would have been cold without a fire. The wind seems to be getting up back there. Well, I guess you ladies will be warming up in the log house. Won't be sorry to break camp in the morning and get on through the mountains. Well, guess I'll be turning in. The heat of the fire has made me go all sleepy. You coming, pine surely am. I can hardly keep away. Well, young man, we thank you for the grub. It was mighty lucky meeting you. Oh, you're welcome, ma'am. Good night, honey. Night, Tom. Mhm. Good night, Mr Simpson. Good night, All. Wow. The broken down door of the old blockhouse closed behind the ladies The fire was replenished And after the last look at the mules and horses the men lay down before the crackling logs And in a few minutes, over asleep the wind moved restlessly through the pines and the clouds drifted sullenly through the dark of the sky Fired at last, bent low And the warm ashes paled beside the dying embers. Mr. Oakhurst was a light sleeper toward morning. He awoke in London cold as he stirred the dying fire The wind which was now blowing strongly brought to his cheek That which caused the blood to leave it. No! Hey, wake up, both of you! Tom! Uncle Billy! What the devil? What is it? Is it morning nearly? Where's Uncle Billy? Where? Why he's gone, he's gone, and so are the mules. That's No one, man. Don't you realize we'll be snowed in? MM, mhm. In a moment we continue Theatre Royal with Sir Laurence Olivier. There's listening fair for all the family. Tomorrow on NBC. Your Sunday concert from Carnegie Hall brings your life story to Toscanini. Conducting the NBC Symphony in an all Beethoven program with income tax returns very much on everyone's mind. Alan Melville, noted British humorist and commentator, offers to export Great Britain's income tax system over here, while Roland Mitchell, Yale professor of history, takes a more serious note and recounts the historical background of the March 15th ritual in this country. All this on the comprehensive cultural collector's item show. Then for the week's news events, all the family will enjoy their Sunday newspaper of the air weekend from cover to cover here. The European reaction to the McCarthy Stevens controversy, the NBC coverage of the Inter American Conference in Caracas, Venezuela, as well as a feature story on the psychology of the juvenile delinquent all tomorrow on your listening newspaper. Weekend Later, everybody's favorite comedian, Judy Holliday portrays the daydreaming damsel and Elmer Rice's delightful comedy Dream Girl on the NBC Star Playhouse and don't miss the ever loving but always involved Marry it as they argue, an ethical point on the marriage. Make your date every Sunday with NBC and now we continue Theatre Royal with Sir Laurence Olivier. Yeah, Uncle Billy and the mules had gone so the horses all had vanished into the silence of the night Snow came whirling down, burying any tracks that might have been there to follow. By the time it was light, the snow was a foot deep, soft and blown into treacherous drip. I was no help for it. They were cut off completely from the rest of the world, imprisoned in the very heart of the mountains. And still the snow came down. Why that drunken, murderous Carson will get us nowhere. Mother ship them. Besides which, Remember the company? What are we going to do? We'll starve to death up here. That snow won't be going for days. Don't you worry, ma'am. Luckily, I stored most part of the provisions in the hut. I reckon we have enough food, put vital asses for a full 10 days. Well, that's if you're willing to board us, Tom. But it's not right that you and Penny should go short for us. Any case, Uncle Billy will likely be back with provisions in a day or two. Go check what we've gotten laid by in there, will you? Right away, Mr Oakhurst, What's this nonsense about Uncle Billy coming back with provisions? Why? You know darn well we'll never see her again, Mother. But don't let onto the kids. They'll find out the truth about all of us. When they find out anything. There's no good scaring them. Now they know he's gone. And taking the mule. Yeah, but I told him I'd guessed. He must have wondered from the camp and stampeded them accidentally. I told him he'd likely be back when he caught them again, if he ever did. And they believe that kids can't believe anything. They don't have to believe that a man can be as mean and bad as Oh, oh, If you'll stop all this cousin, they'll believe what we
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