(_A SKETCH AT EARL'S COURT._)
_The Orator's Opening Discourse_ (_as heard in the back rows_). Ladies
and Gentlemen, I desire to draw your attention to an important fact.
It will be my pleasure to introduce to you ... ("_The real American
popcorn, equally famous in Paris and London, tuppence each packet!"
from Vendor in gangway_) ... history and life of the ... (_"'Buffalo
Bill Puzzle,' one penny!" from another vendor behind_) ... impress
one fact upon your minds; this is not ... (_roar and rattle of
passing train_) ... in the ordinary or common acceptation of ...
(_"Puff-puff-puff!" from engine shunting trucks_) ... Many unthinking
persons have said ... (_Piercing and prolonged scream from same
engine._) This is not so. On the contrary ... (_Metallic bangs from
trucks._) Men and animals are ... ("_Programmes! Opera-glasses on
hire!_") ... purely the creatures of ...
[_Remainder of remarks hopelessly lost amidst the clank of
coupling chains, whistles, snorts and puffs from shunting
engine._
_An Old Lady in Audience._ He has such a beautiful clear voice,
we _ought_ to hear every word. If _I_ were Buffalo BILL, I should
positively insist on the trains keeping quiet while the Orator was
speaking!
_Orator_ (_during the Grand Processional Review_). A Troop of Arapahoe
Indians!
[_Band strikes up; a party of painted Indians gallop into
Arena, uttering little puppy-like barks._
_An Artistic Lady_ (_shuddering_). Look at that creature with a
raw pink body, and a pea-green face--it's too _frightful_, and such
_crude_ yellows! I _wish_ they could be taught to paint themselves
some _decent_ colour!
_Her Sister._ Really, dear, as far as _decency_ is concerned, I don't
exactly see what difference the mere _colour_ would make.
_Her Husband._ That isn't quite what EMILY meant. She'd like to
enamel 'em all in Art shades and drape Liberty scarves round 'em, like
terra-cotta drainpipes or wicker-chairs--eh, EMILY?
_Emily_ (_loftily_). Oh, my dear HENRY, I wasn't speaking to _you_. I
know what a contempt you have for all that makes a home beautiful!
_Henry._ Meaning Indians? My love, I respect them and admire them--at
a distance; but, plain _or_ coloured, I cannot admit that they would
be decorative as furniture--even in _your_ drawing-room!
[_EMILY endures him in silence._
_Orator._ A party of Women of the Ogallalla Tribe!
[Illustration: "I am perfectly aware of _that_, Euphemia!"]
[_Three mounted Indian ladies in blankets--walk their horses
slowly round the Arena, crooning "Aye-eia-ha-ya-hee-hi-ya!"
with every sign of enjoying their own performance._
_A Poetical Lady._ What strange wild singing it is, JOHN! There's
something so creepy about it, somehow.
_John_ (_a prosaic but frivolous person_). There is, indeed. It
explains _one_ thing I never quite understood before, though.
_The Poetical Lady._ I thought it would impress you--but what does it
explain?
_John._ The reason why the buffalo in those parts has so entirely died
out.
_A Rigid Matron_ (_during the Emigrant Train Scene_). I don't care
to see a girl ride in that bold way myself. I'm sure it _must_ be so
unsexing for them. And what _is_ she about now, with that man? They're
actually having a duel with knives--on _horseback_ too! not at _all_ a
nice thing for any young girl to do. There! she's pulled out a pistol
and shot him--and galloped off as if nothing had happened! I have
always heard that American girls were allowed a good _deal_ of
liberty--but I'd really no idea they went as far as this! I should
be sorry indeed to see any girl of _mine_ (_here the glances
instructively at three dumpy and dough-faced Daughters_) acting in
that forward and _most_ unfeminine manner. (_Reassuringly._) But I'm
very sure there's no fear of _that_, is there, dears?
[_The Daughters repudiate with gratifying unanimity any desire
to shoot gentlemen on horseback._
_A Bloodthirsty Boy_ (_as the hostile Indians attack the train_). Will
the Indians _scalp_ anybody, Uncle?
_His Uncle._ No, my boy, they don't let 'em get near enough for that,
you see! [_The Indians are ignominiously chased off by Cowboys._
_The Boy_ (_disappointed_). They'd a splendid chance of scalping the
Orator that time--and not one of them even saw it!
_Orator._ Captain JACK BURTZ, of the United States Army, will now give
you an example of his phenomenal Lightning Drill.
[_The Captain takes up his position with an air of fierce
resolution, and proceeds to do wonderful things with a
rifle and fixed bayonet, which he treats with a familiarity
bordering on contempt._
_A Lady_ (_to a_ Military Friend--_as the Captain twirls the rifle
rapidly round his neck_). Have you ever seen anyone drill like that
before?
_The Mil. F._ Saw CINQUEVALLI do something very like it at the Empire.
But _he_ had a cannon-ball as well.
_The Lady._ Look at him now--he's making the gun revolve upside down
with the bayonet on the palm of his hand! Could _you_ do that?
_The M.F._ Not without drilling a hole in myself.
_The Lady._ It really is wonderful that he shouldn't feel the point,
isn't it now?
_The M.F._ Well, I don't see much point _in_ it myself--but so long as
it amuses him, I daresay it's all right.
[_The Captain discharges the gun in the air and retires at the
double, feeling that his country's safety is secure for the
present. JOHNNY BAKER, the young American Marksman, appears
and exhibits his skill in shooting upside down._
_The Rigid Matron._ He missed one that time--he's not quite such a
good shot as the girl was.
_One of the Daughters._ Oh, but, Mother, you forget! Miss ANNIE OAKLEY
didn't stand on _her_--
_The R.M._ (_in an awful voice_), I am perfectly aware of that,
EUPHEMIA; so pray don't make such unnecessary remarks!
[_EUPHEMIA subsides in confusion._
_An Unsophisticated Spectator_ (_as Master BAKER, after rubbing
his forehead, discovers a brickbat under the mat where his head had
been_). Now, how _very_ odd! He found a brick in exactly the same
place when I was here before! Someone must have a grudge against him,
poor boy! But he ought to look _before_ he stands on his head, next
time!
_Mr. Timmerman_ (_carelessly, to his wife, as the Deadwood Coach is
introduced_). It would be rather fun to have a ride in the Coach--new
experience and all that.
_Mrs. T._ (_who doesn't intend him to go_). Oh, do be _careful_ then.
_Mr. T._ (_feeling quite the Daredevil_). Pooh, my dear, what is there
to be careful about?
_Mrs. T._ It does look such a ramshackle old thing--it might break
down. Accidents do happen so quickly.
_Mr. T._ (_reflecting that they certainly do_). Oh, if it wasn't
perfectly safe, they wouldn't--
_Mrs. T._ Well, promise me if you go on the box to hold on tight round
the corners, then!
_Mr. T._ (_who doesn't see much to hold on by_). I shan't _go_ on the
box--I shall go inside.
_Mrs. T._ There mayn't be room. There are several people waiting to
go already. You'll have to make haste to get a seat at all. I shall be
_miserable_ till I see you safe back again!
_Mr. T._ (_who is not sure he doesn't share her feelings_). Oh well,
if you feel like _that_ about it, I won't--
_Mrs. T._ Oh, yes, do, I _want_ you to go--it will be so exciting for
you to see real Indians yelling and shooting all round.
_Mr. T._ (_thinking that it may be more exciting than pleasant_).
Might bring on one of my headaches, and there'll be such a smell of
gunpowder too. I hardly think, after all, it's worth while.
_Mrs. T._ If you feel in the least _nervous_ about it. (_Mr. T. denies
this indignantly._) Then go at once--you may never have the chance
again; only don't stay talking about it--go!
_Mr. T._ (_pulling himself together_). Very well, if you really wish
it.... Confound it! _Most_ annoying, really! (_Sits down relieved._)
They've started! It's all _your_ fault, if you hadn't kept me here
talking!
_Mrs. T._ (_humbly_). I _am_ so sorry--but there's another performance
in the evening; we might dine here, and then you could easily go on
the Coach afterwards if you're so anxious to!
_Mr. T._ And sit through the show twice in one day? No, good as it is,
I really--and I've some letters I must write after dinner, too.
[_Mrs. T. smiles to herself discreetly, satisfied with having
gained her point._
* * * * *