The Dream Ends
8. ABRAHAM LINCOLN EPISODE
9. FINAL TABLEAU
10. MARCH OF PLAYERS
PROLOGUE
_Spoken by The Spirit of Patriotism_
People of --------, ye who come to see
Enacted here some hours of Pageantry,
Lend us your patience for each simple truth,
And see portrayed for you the Nation's Youth.
Spirit of Patriotism I. Behold
How at my word time's curtain is uprolled,
And all the past years live, unvanquished
As are the laurels of the mighty dead.
I am the spirit of the hearth and home!
For me are flags unfurled and bugles blown.
For me have countless thousands fought and died;
For me the name of "Liberty" is cried!
I am the leader where the battle swings,
I bring the memory of all high things.
And so to-day I come to bid you look
At scenes deep-written in the Nation's book.
The youth of all the heroes you shall see--
What lads they were, what men they grew to be.
How honor, thrift, and courage made them rise
By steps that you can learn if you be wise.
First, Pocahontas in a woodland green;
Then life among the Pilgrim folk is seen--
Thrifty Priscilla, Maid o' Plymouth Town,
In Puritanic cap and somber gown!
For the next scene comes life in Southern climes--
The Ferry Farm of past Colonial times.
Then Washington encamped before a blaze
O' fagots, swiftly learning woodland ways.
Then Boone with Rigdon in the wilderness
Dauntlessly facing times of strife and stress.
Crossing the Common in the morning sun
Young Benjamin Franklin comes: about him hung
Symbols of trade and hope--kite, candles, book.
The crystal gazer enters, bids him look
At all the guerdon that the years will bring.
The Vision next: Trianon in the Spring,
And Franklin honored by the Queen of France
With courtly minuet and festal dance.
Lastly, a cabin clearing in the West,
Where on a holiday with mirth and zest
Lincoln's companions take their simple cheer.
These are the scenes to be enacted here,
Shown to you straightway in a simple guise.
Youthful the scenes that we shall here devise
On which the beads of history are strung.
Remember that our players, too, are young.
All critic-knowledge, then, behind you leave,
And in the spirit of the day receive
What we would give, and let there come to you
The Joy of Youth, with purpose high and true.
COSTUME
THE SPIRIT OF PATRIOTISM. The Spirit of Patriotism should wear a long
white robe, with flowing Grecian lines, made either of white
cheesecloth, or white cashmere. It should fall from a rounded neck.
Hair worn flowing, and chapleted with a circlet of gold stars. White
stockings and sandals. Carries a staff from which floats the Stars and
Stripes.
PRINCESS POCAHONTAS
CHARACTERS
PRINCESS POCAHONTAS
CHIEF POWHATAN
CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH
Eight Young Indian Braves
Eight Young Indian Maidens
Two Indian Women
Two old and withered Squaws
Six or seven little Indian children
Other followers of Powhatan
TIME: _Mid-afternoon on a mild day in 1609._
PLACE: _Virginia._
SCENE: _An open glade showing a small Indian encampment._
[Transcriber's note: All stage directions appear in italics in the
original]
At the opening of the scene the glade is deserted, the men of the tribe
being engaged in a skirmish with the white men, while the women and
children have gone foraging. There are two teepees, one at right, and
one at left, their doors closed. By the side of teepee at left a pile
of fagots, and a wooden block.
Further front, facing audience, a great war-drum, gaily painted. A
skin-covered drum-stick. At right, towards front, the smoldering
remains of a fire. The whole appearance of the camp shows that it is
not permanent--a mere pausing-place.
The space between the teepees is absolutely unobstructed, but there are
trees and bushes at the back and sides.
By degrees the Indians who have been foraging begin to return. One of
the Indian women enters carrying fagots. One of the older squaws
rekindles the fire. Next come the children, with merry shouts, carrying
their little bows and arrows. The Indian maidens enter gaily, carrying
reeds for weaving. They move silently, swiftly, gracefully. Two of
their number begin to grind maize between stones. Two others plait
baskets. An old medicine-man, with a bag of herbs, comes from the
background, and seats himself near the drum, at left, taking an Indian
flute from his deerskin belt, and fingering it lovingly. An Indian
woman, arriving later than the others, unstraps from her back a small
papoose, and hangs it to the limb of a tree. The Indian children stand
towards the front of the greensward, shoot in a line their feathered
arrows, run and pick up the arrows, and acclaim in pantomime the one
who shot the best. Then they go towards background, doing a childish
imitation of a war-dance. The mother of the papoose, having finished
her duties in setting one of the teepees to rights, now takes down the
papoose from the tree where it swings, and seating herself in the
center of the greensward, croons an Indian lullaby. The Indian maidens
group themselves about her, seated in a semicircle on the ground,
swaying rhythmically. At the back of the stage one of the little Indian
boys sees an Indian maiden approaching, clad in white doeskin. Cries
aloud delightedly: _"Pocahontas!"_
The Indian maidens and the squaws rise and fall back before the
entrance of Pocahontas with gestures of salutation and respect.
ALL
(clearly and enthusiastically).
Pocahontas!
[Pocahontas comes down center with a basket filled with branches that
bear small red berries. The children and two of the maidens gather
about her, and then fall back as she begins speaking, so that she has
the center of the stage. Greatest interest is evinced in all she does.
POCAHONTAS
(speaking slowly, as one does in an unfamiliar tongue, yet clearly and
deliberately).
I--Pocahontas--daughter of Powhatan, great chief,--speak--language
of--paleface. Powhatan teach me. (Points to way from which she has
come.) Yonder--I--went. Prayed to River God.
[Makes gesture of worship, raising basket above her head. The
semicircle about her widens respectfully. A maiden then approaches and
takes basket. Pocahontas smiles in sudden childlike delight, and
holding out chain of beads that fall from her neck to her waist, says
with pretty intonation:
Beads. Jamestown.
[Watches them for a moment as they glimmer in the sun. Then with sudden
laugh seizes the Indian maiden nearest her, and by gesture summons the
other Indian maidens. One of the very old squaws with a half-wry,
half-kindly smile begins a swift tapping on the drum that has in it the
rhythm of dance music. The Indian children withdraw to the doors of the
teepees, and Pocahontas and the Indian maidens dance. The old
medicine-man adds his flute-notes to the rhythm of the war-drum.
The Indians being a notably silent people, this scene must be given
mostly in pantomime.
From the forest at right comes the faint sound of a crackling branch.
Instant attention on the part of all. The dance stops. The Indian
maidens stand poised, listening. The women shade their eyes with their
hands. A small Indian boy lays his ear to the ground, and then cries:
_"Powhatan!"_ Two expectant semicircles are formed. All look to wards
right. Powhatan enters, Pocahontas runs to meet him. Tableau.
Powhatan then indicates that others are coming from right. Young braves
enter with John Smith in their midst. His hands are bound behind him,
his face is white and drawn. Children at sight of him scamper to
teepees. The rest show signs of curiosity. Pocahontas stands with
clasped hands and startled eyes, regarding Smith most earnestly. A
brave bears Smith's weapons. Smith is led to right foreground. Block of
wood is brought him for a seat.
The Indian women, maidens, and children retreat to the extreme
background, where they sit in a semicircle, watching. Then Powhatan and
braves withdraw to left, where they form a circle and confer, one brave
at a time addressing the rest in pantomime, with many gestures, some
towards Smith, some towards the path by which they brought him.
Occasionally the words _"Algonquin," "Chickahominy," "Jamestown,"
"Opeckankano," "W'ashunsunakok"_ are spoken. When Powhatan speaks in
pantomime the others listen with occasional grunts of satisfaction and
approval. It is evident that the prisoner and the fate awaiting him are
under discussion.
Pocahontas alone remains near the center of interest. She glances first
at her father and the braves, sees they are deep in discussion, and
then crosses to John Smith, with every sign of interest and awakening
pity. She brings him water in a wooden bowl. He drinks thirstily. She
then goes to one of the teepees, and brings him a cup of milk. This she
holds for him to drink from, as his hands are bound.
POCAHONTAS
(gravely, as she puts down the cup).
How!
SMITH
(with equal gravity).
How!
POCAHONTAS(touching herself lightly).
Pocahontas. Daughter of Powhatan.
[Touches Smith questioningly.
SMITH
(answering her).
Smith. John Smith.
POCAHONTAS
(repeating it after him).
John Smith.
SMITH.
From Jamestown.
POCAHONTAS
(nods, says slowly).
Pocahontas _likes_ paleface.
[Meantime the pantomimic discussion held by Powhatan and his braves is
drawing near its close. There comes a shout of triumphant acclaim "Wah!
Wah! Wah!" hoarse and loud. Powhatan, having in pantomime rendered his
decision, now stands with arms folded, at left. Braves to right, and
take Smith to center. Powhatan stands at the extreme left. The braves
form a semicircle about Smith. The women and children in the background
rise silently, and peer forward. Smith is forced to one knee. A brave
holds aloft the hatchet.
POCAHONTAS
(looking from Smith to her father, and then running towards the latter
with a cry).
No! No!
[Powhatan regards his daughter gravely, yet unrelentingly. Pocahontas,
center, stretches out her arms in pleading. Powhatan shakes his head.
Pocahontas then goes towards Smith, and again with animated pantomime,
indicating first Smith and then the way by which he has come, pleads
for him. Powhatan shakes his head. He is obdurate. Pocahontas bows her
head dejectedly. Turns to go back to where she has been standing. Then
changes her mind, runs to her father, and with every evidence of
pleading and humility, falls on her knees before him, arms
outstretched. For a moment they are still as statues. Then Pocahontas
takes from her neck her string of beads, and, by gesture, offers it as
a ransom for Smith.
POCAHONTAS
(speaking slowly).
Pocahontas, daughter of Great Chief, asks of Great Chief John Smith's
life.
[Tense pause. Powhatan, with arms folded, considers deeply. Then makes
sign of assent, but gives back necklace to Pocahontas, who rises with
pantomime of joy. Powhatan makes sign to braves to release Smith. Smith
is unbound. His weapons are given back to him. He chafes his wrists and
presents his compass to Powhatan.
SMITH.
Great Chief! (Turns first to Powhatan, and then to Pocahontas.) Great
Princess! John Smith grateful!
[Powhatan touches him on shoulder.
POWHATAN
(grunting).
Umph!
[Indicates by gesture peace-pipe which has been lit at fire. All braves
sit in semicircle facing audience, and pass it (not too slowly!) from
one to another, including Smith and Powhatan. Then all rise.
SMITH
(standing center).
John Smith goes to Jamestown. John Smith friend of great chief,
Powhatan. Palefaces always remember Powhatan! Always remember
Pocahontas!
BRAVES
(all together).
Wah! Wah! Wah!
[Exit Smith, right. Smith is watched by the Indians in silence deep and
respectful.
POCAHONTAS
(to Powhatan).
Great Chief safely returned. Captive set free. Shall we go yonder?
(Points.) Pray to River God?
[Powhatan nods gravely. He and Pocahontas exeunt left. The braves
follow next. The Indian maidens, women, and children form the end of
the procession. The stage is thus left empty, and the scene ends.
COSTUMES
POCAHONTAS. Pocahontas should wear the traditional costume of "white
doeskin with a scarlet mantle flecked with gold sequins." A great chain
of pearls should be about her neck. Another chain which reaches to her
waist should be of white and blue beads--large beads that will catch
glitter from the sun. About her head a band of tan, and a white quill.
The embroidery about the neck of her Indian robe is of pearls. The
basket which she carries should be white, with a motif of rich blue and
scarlet. She wears a tan (dressed deerskin) girdle, heavily embroidered
in red beads. Her stockings and moccasins are tan-colored also, the
moccasins embroidered in scarlet. The ends of her braids are bound in
scarlet and gold. White canton flannel, skilfully slashed for fringing,
will make the Indian dress, which should fall in straight lines from a
square neck. It should reach to about three inches above the ankle, and
should be heavily fringed. The robe, worn fastened at the shoulders,
should be of scarlet cloth. The deerskin belt is of cotton khaki. The
moccasins can be made of the same material, cut sandal fashion. Or low
canvas ties without heels, bead-embroidered.
CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH. Tan-colored costume of the seventeenth century. The
coat of tattered, weather-stained brown velvet, the puffed sleeves
slashed with tan satin that is soiled and frayed. Great tan boots
coming to the knee. A white lace collar at neck, much the worse for
wear. A brown leather girdle.
POWHATAN. Indian dress of tan (dressed deerskin), the neck and breast
of it gorgeously painted with blue, green, and scarlet. Great chains of
shells and beads. A huge head-dress of black feathers that hangs down
his back almost to his knees. It should be the largest and most
magnificent of all the Indian head-dresses, as it is the insignia of
chiefdom. Tan stockings and tan moccasins. The material of his costume
may be cotton khaki. (The imitation khaki is best, as the real material
is too heavy.)
THE MEDICINE-MAN. The medicine-man is old. He wears a wig of long,
white, coarse hair. His costume is of cotton khaki, decorated with
beads, bits of looking-glass, and feathers. He wears no feathers on his
head. A piece of fur is fastened to his shoulders. His blanket is
black, with white cabalistic signs. It can be made of canton flannel.
INDIAN BRAVES. The braves who follow Powhatan should wear costumes
resembling those of the chief, save that they are less gorgeously
painted, and wear fewer strings of beads and shells. Their
head-dresses, too, are shorter. They should be of gray, black, and
brown feathers. Their faces are, of course, stained brown, their arms
and necks likewise. Red and black warpaint should also be on their
faces. Unless wigs of long hair are to be worn, the boys wearing the
feathered head-dresses should be careful to see that their lack of long
hair is concealed from view. Often the Indian braves wore their long
matted locks braided; and black cheesecloth cut into strips and then
braided and fastened to a tight black cap will make a splendid wig of
this sort--the braids of hair should hang in front of the ears. The
Indian braves should carry bows, arrows, and tomahawks.
THE INDIAN MAIDENS. The Indian maidens should wear tan fringed dresses,
of the same length and fashion as that of Pocahontas. Necklaces and
bracelets of shells. The necks of the dresses embroidered in beads and
shells. They wear their long black hair in two braids, the ends of the
braids bound either with scarlet, corn-yellow, or vivid blue. They have
moccasins and tan-colored stockings. Their bead' embroidered footgear
should be in striking color on a tan background. But their chief glory
is their blankets. These should be barbarically glowing, since it is
partly in their wild flare of color that the beauty of the Blanket
Dance lies. The following designs for them are taken from the Indian
motifs and colorings studied from the collections in various museums of
natural history, and however startling they may seem at first, their
color-scheme should be faithfully carried out, as much of the success
of the scene depends on them. The material used may be canton flannel
throughout. They should be the size of the average, every-day blanket.
1. Blanket made of equal halves of deep royal purple and pale turquoise
blue.
2. Blanket of deep cobalt blue. Fastened in the center a great oval of
orange.
3. Blanket made of equal halves of pale lemon and black.
4. Blanket made of equal halves of very dark green and very pale green.
5. Blanket made of equal halves of deep violet and white.
6. White blanket with disks of scarlet at each of its four corners.
7. Blanket of equal halves of royal purple and pale lavender.
8. Blanket of very pale green, with large white disk in center.
Each Indian maiden should wear a band of gay-colored cheesecloth, red,
green, or blue, bound about her forehead. This band should match the
color that fastens her braids. In the back of the head-band should be
fastened a quill of contrasting shade. It need hardly be added that the
Indian maidens wear neither feather head-dresses nor war-paint. Their
arms, necks, and faces should be stained light brown. The tan-colored
stockings are to simulate bare skin.
SQUAWS. The squaws wear the same cotton khaki costumes as the Indian
maidens, save that their blanket are of more somber colors, and their
headgear is either omitted altogether, or consists of black, bronze, or
dull green.
THE LITTLE INDIAN BOYS. They should drew in exact imitation of the
older braves, save that they wear no war-paint.
PROPERTIES. For either an indoor or outdoor representation of this
scene where it is impossible to have a real fire, have a pile of fagots
and unionist them place large bunches of joss-sticks bound together
with thread. These will burn easily and safely, and the blue smoke from
them will simulate a waft from woodland embers.
The log can be made of two small vinegar barrels fastened together,
covered with brown burlap, and then flecked with green and brown paint.
The teepees should be of canvas, unbleached cotton, or burlap fastened
over three slender, strong poles, stuck into the ground. They should be
equal to bearing the weight of the canvas or burlap, and yet light
enough to be removed and carried off the scene by the young Indian
braves as they leave in the direction of the river when the scene ends.
DANCES. At the place indicated in the scene, the Indian maidens give
one or more characteristic Indian dances. "The Blanket Dance," one of
the most widely known and picturesque of the Indian dances, follows
somewhat the lines of a Virginia Reel. The Indian maidens stand in a
line facing each other, their blankets wrapped about them. The head
couple, facing each other, spread wide their blankets behind them like
great butterfly wings. Then they dance forward and back, forward and
back, beckoning, retreating, gesturing, and finally dance off, with one
blanket wrapped about two pairs of shoulders. Then the next couple, and
so on. All sorts of fantastic steps, gestures, bendings, and swayings
can be introduced. A wide space should be left between the dancers, so
that all they do can be clearly seen. Dancing in great circles, like a
mild war-dance, yet without the whoops and wild gestures of the latter,
is another form that lends itself to the out-of-doors. Another dance is
the Eagle Dance; with arms spread wide, holding their blankets at
wing-like angles, the dancers circle about each other, the dance
growing wilder and wilder. Still another dance is the symbolical one of
the Four Winds--North, South, East, West--done by four Indian maidens.
The South Wind gentle and swaying; the West Wind fantastic, with arms
upraised; the East Wind with streaming hair and rain-drops shining on
finger tips; the North Wind wilder than them all, and finally driving
them all before her.
MUSIC. Piano: MacDowell's "An Indian Idyl," "From an Indian Lodge."
These can be had orchestrated. For a band: "Tomahawk Dance," by Andrew
Herman. "Indian War Dance," by Bellstedt. "The Sun Dance," by Leo
Friedman.
PILGRIM INTERLUDE
PILGRIM CHANT
(Tune: Oxford. To be sung off stage by the Puritan maidens before they
enter to take part in the episode.)
Gone is now the sullen winter,
Gone the famine and the snow;
In the forest, like a promise,
See the first white mayflowers blow.
Fresh hope thrills us with their coming,
They, too, braved the winter long;
Then at Springtime took new leafage,
Frail yet steadfast, small but strong.
Cling we thus to our new country,
Let us struggle and endure;
We have found a land of Freedom,
And our heritage is sure.
THE SPINNING LESSON
(A Pilgrim Interlude)
CHARACTERS
PRISCILLA MULLINS
Lads of Plymouth Town
JOHN BILLINGTON
DEGORY MARTIN
Youthful Pilgrim Maidens
RUTH
PATIENCE
MIRIAM
LETTICE
ANNE
STAR-OF-SPRING, an Indian maiden
NATIQUA, a squaw, her mother
FOREST FLOWER, another Indian maiden
HERON'S WING, a young Indian brave
SCENE: A grassy glade at Plymouth in the Spring of 1621, Trees right,
left, and background. At the beginning of the scene the grassy stage is
deserted. There presently enters from background Anne, a young Pilgrim
maid of about fourteen, whose somber garb shows out darkly against the
green background. She looks quickly about her, right and left,
shielding her eyes with her hand. Then she calls back over her shoulder
to her companions, Diantha and Lettice.
ANNE
(calling).
Come quickly, Diantha. Here is a fair spot for our corn-shelling, and
not a prowling Indian in sight.
[Diantha, slender, dark, and somewhat older than Anne, enters with
Lettice. They carry between them an Indian basket of capacious size, in
which are dried ears of corn.
DIANTHA
(clearly).
Nay, we need have no fear; for on one side Captain Miles Standish keeps
watch, and on the other John Alden; so as for Indians----
LETTICE
(as they come to center).
One Indian only have I seen this day, and to see him is ever a sign of
good omen.
DIANTHA.
That means that Squanto is in Plymouth Town, our good, true Indian
friend. He it was who taught us how to shell the corn, so many months
agone; he it was who taught us, this Spring, the manner of sowing it.
LETTICE
(holding up Indian basket).
And here is one of the Indian corn-baskets that Captain Standish found
buried in a strange wilderness spot when he first explored these
forests.
ANNE
(drawing near to Lettice).
These forests--! Oh, my heart! As night draws on how dark and fearsome
they appear! And now that Spring is in the land it sets me longing for
English hedgerows.
[Sits on ground, left, and begins to shell corn.
LETTICE
(joining Anne in her work).
Do you remember the Spring in Leyden, Diantha?
DIANTHA
(looking upward as she stands).
Why, even here the Spring is very fair! Do not the sunlight, the blue
sky, and the budding trees make your heart sing with joy?
ANNE.
Sit, then, Diantha, and let us have a quiet hour.
DIANTHA
(standing behind them, half-gay, half-mocking).
A quiet hour--! Hither come Patience and Miriam and Ruth, the greatest
clatter-tongues in Plymouth. See! They have been gathering wild plum
blossoms!
[Enter Miriam, Patience, and Ruth from background. They hasten towards
Diantha. The exquisite white of the blossoms they carry makes them look
like heralds of the Spring.
MIRIAM
(excitedly).
Diantha, what dost think! Priscilla Mullins hath declared herself weary
of spinning in her own door-yard, and since Squanto hath told us that
we need not fear the Indians she hath besought Degory Martin and John
Billington to bring hither her spinning-wheel.
PATIENCE
(wide-eyed).
Was ever the like known in Plymouth!
RUTH
(as all look eagerly towards background).
Hither she comes!
PRISCILLA
(clearly in distance).
Have a care, Degory.
DEGORY.
Aye, Mistress Priscilla.
PRISCILLA
(as they emerge from background).
Stumble not, John Billington.
JOHN BILLINGTON
(sturdily).
Not while I bear such a burden.
[They set down the spinning-wheel, center.
PRISCILLA.
I thank you. Will you come for me when the shadows o' the pines grow
long across my doorway?
[The Pilgrim lads nod, and exeunt, left background.
PRISCILLA
(to Pilgrim maidens).
Well, and have you no word of greeting? Why, they are dumb with
astonishment! And is it so strange a thing to bring one's wheel
outdoors? 'Twas out of doors that this wood first grew! (Touches
wheel.) All day I have longed to be out in these wide spaces--and yet
there was work to do. But see--now I weld heart's desire and work
together!
[She begins to spin. Meantime Pilgrim maidens group about her. Tableau.
MIRIAM.
You are ever one to see the bright side of things, Priscilla,
and------Look, Priscilla--an Indian!
[At sound of that dread word all the maidens draw near to Priscilla.
From the woods in right background appears Star-of-Spring, the little
Indian maiden. She carries a basket of shell-fish on her head,
steadying it with her hand. She is so intent on walking carefully that
she does not see the group of Pilgrims until she is nearly upon them.
There ensues a period of unflagging pantomime. Star-of-Spring, upon
seeing the group of dark-clad maidens, starts back, half terrified.
Priscilla rises, and as an overture of peace and good-will, takes a few
steps towards her. Star-of-Spring retreats still further towards right.
Priscilla returns to her wheel.
Star-of-Spring, emboldened, takes a step towards the Pilgrim maidens.
Pilgrim maidens, quite as wary of Star-of-Spring as she is of them,
retreat a little way to left. At this Star-of-Spring's last fears
vanish. She wishes to be friends. With pretty pleading she holds out to
them her basket of shell-fish. Places it on the ground and then steps
back, bowing, with arms wide and outstretched palms.
PRISCILLA.
She means we should accept it. Is that not truly generous!
DIANTHA
(reassured).
It must be Star-of-Spring, the little Indian maid of whom Squanto has
so often told us.
[Diantha takes up basket. Pantomime of delight on part of
Star-of-Spring. She draws near to Anne, and with a quaint grace touches
Anne's cap and kerchief. Tries on Anne's cap, and looks at herself in a
barbaric bit of looking-glass that dangles from one of her many chains
of beads. Then laughs, gives back the cap, and is in turn fascinated at
the sight of Priscilla when she begins spinning. Star-of-Spring
approaches the wheel with pantomime indicating awe and delighted
curiosity. She first inspects it, and then begins to talk in dumbshow
with quick, animated gestures. The Pilgrim maidens are somewhat
bewildered.
DIANTHA
(as the meaning of the scene dawns on her).
Priscilla! She wishes to spin!
ANNE.
Thou hast done many strange things in this new land, Priscilla; but I
doubt not that the strangest of all is to give an Indian maiden her
first lesson in spinning!
[Priscilla rises. Star-of-Spring seats herself. Business of Priscilla's
teaching her to spin. Haltingly and somewhat fumblingly she does at
length manage to compass the first rudiments of her lesson. The Pilgrim
maidens stand grouped about her. Tableau.
DEGORY
(from background).
The shadows of the pines lengthen across your door-sill, Priscilla!
[At sound of the new voice Star-of-Spring rises, and hastily retreats,
right. Degory Martin and John Billington enter from background.
DIANTHA.
Only think, Degory, Star-of-Spring, an Indian maid, hath had a spinning
lesson!
DEGORY.
The shadows are lengthening. Twilight comes apace here in the forest.
'Tis time you all came home.
[The maidens of Plymouth follow him as he and John Billington take the
spinning-wheel and spinning-stool with them. They make their exit at
center background. Star-of-Spring, who has lingered at edge of trees,
right, steals out to look after her departing playmates. Stands at
place where spinning-wheel was. Again shakes her head, as if in
perplexity over the strange arts of the palefaces. Finds on grass part
of a skein of flax. Tosses it lightly in the air. Catches it again as
it falls. Begins a characteristic dance, swaying, tossing skein,
catching it. Each step of the dance takes her further into background.
Then she comes down center again, like a tossing bough or a blown
flame. She does not perceive the group entering from left. Her mother
(Natiqua), Forest Flower, and Heron's Wing. They also are so occupied
with portage that they do not perceive Star-of-Spring until they are
almost up to her. Heron's Wing and Forest Flower carry between them a
birch-bark canoe. Behind them trudges Natiqua, bent beneath a double
pile of fagots. They pass, in picturesque silhouette, back of the spot
where Priscilla had been seated with her spinning-wheel. Then they and
Star-of-Spring become aware of each other. They stop. Natiqua frowns.
Star-of-Spring points to place where Priscilla sat with her
spinning-wheel, and by animated gestures portrays what has taken place.
But neither Natiqua, Forest Flower, nor Heron's Wing is in the least
interested. Natiqua shakes her head and frowns. It is evident that the
wonders of the palefaces are not to her mind. She lets slip from her
back her double pile of fagots, then replaces one, and Star-of-Spring
takes up the other. Then, in Indian file, they cross the scene to
right, and slowly disappear from view.
COSTUMES
PILGRIM MAIDENS. The Pilgrim maidens should wear plain black dresses
ankle length, with white cuffs and Puritan caps, and white kerchiefs.
These dresses may be made of black cambric, worn with the glazed side
turned in.
THE PILGRIM LADS. The Pilgrim lads wear black suits, with full
knee-breeches, black stockings, and low black shoes with silver
buckles. Their hair comes to their ears, and they have white collars
turned down on their coats, and deep white cuffs on their sleeves.
THE INDIANS. The Indians wear costumes of cotton khaki, the necks gaily
painted with Indian designs. Strings of beads and shells. Natiqua has a
green and scarlet blanket. She and the Indian maidens wear their hair
in braids. They also have a gay strip of cheesecloth--red, green, or
yellow--bound about their brows, and a quill stuck upright in the back.
Heron's Wing has a head-dress of blue-gray heron's feathers. All wear
moccasins. (See description of Indian costumes in "Princess
Pocahontas.")
FERRY FARM EPISODE
CHARACTERS
LORD FAIRFAX
MARY BALL WASHINGTON
GEORGE WASHINGTON
Plantation hands
AUNT RACHEL
SAMBO
LUCY
DINAH
PETER
NELLY
SUSY
UNCLE NED
SCENE: The lawn of Ferry Farm, 1748. A wide expanse of green. Trees
right, left, and background. The trees in background supposedly screen
the Colonial house from view. At the left the estate supposedly
stretches to the highway. At the right, behind the trees, it is given
over to flower and vegetable gardens.
At the beginning of the scene the grassy space is deserted, but from
the distance, right, comes the sound of singing. The sound swells
louder and louder in the rhythm of one of the oldest of African songs,
"Mary and Martha just gone 'long to ring those charming bells." The
first verse is sung before the singers appear. With the second verse
those who have been at work in the fields come into view, their gay and
colorful costumes bright against the green background.
Two of the children run into sight first; then comes a group of nine or
ten young people. Some carry between them baskets heaped quite high
with fruit and vegetables. One boy holds a hoe. A girl carries a rake.
Another an armful of dried corn on the ear. Two more a low basket
heaped with cotton. In the center of this group hobbles old Aunt
Rachel, turbaned, and leaning on a cane. By her side walks Lucy,
carrying a great bunch of pink "Winter Roses."
The third verse is sung as this group emerges into full view of the
audience. The children stand looking at Aunt Rachel as they sing, as if
they were catching some of the words from her. She beats time with her
finger to see that they learn correctly. Other voices take up the song
in right background, swelling it higher and higher. Uncle Ned, with his
fiddle under his arm, comes slowly from right to join the group in
foreground. The baskets are set down. The boy leans on his hoe, the
girl on her wooden rake, rapt and happy. All are given over to the
rhythmic joy of the music.
UNCLE NED
(with a sigh of happiness).
I certainly do love music. Nothing cheers the heart like singing--
unless it's the voice of the fiddle.
SUSY
(hopping up and down).
Play to us, Uncle Ned, play to us!
[Uncle Ned tucks his fiddle under his chin and begins to play. At first
the air is chant-like, and has a strain of melancholy, then it grows
gayer and gayer, until it turns into a dance tune. The children first
stand about Uncle Ned in a circle, listening. Then they begin to dance,
with swaying bodies and cries of delight. Here and there a girl and boy
dance opposite each other, hands on hips. There should be five or six
dancing groups in all. Uncle Ned finishes with a flourish, and turns
towards left.
THE CHILDREN.
Play us another tune, Uncle Ned! Play us another tune!
UNCLE NED
(to a little girl who is especially imploring).
No, no, honey. There's work for me to do up yonder at the house.
[Goes off, left background.
AUNT RACHEL
(still swaying a little and nodding her head).
It certainly does take the fiddle to make old bones feel young again.
Where are you going, Susy?
SUSY
(taking up her basket and indicating left).
Off to the stables.
AUNT RACHEL
(center).
And where are you going, Lucy?
LUCY.
Up to the house with this bunch of roses for Mistress Washington.
SUSY.
Look! Here comes Nelly from the house now.
NELLY
(running down from background).
Have you-all heard the news? This is the day that Master George is
leaving for his surveying trip with Lord Fairfax. See! Mistress
Washington is coming to speak to us now!
[All look in the direction of house. Madam Washington is seen
approaching from the background, center, a stately figure in Colonial
dress, her hair slightly touched with gray. Cries of "Good-morning,
Mistress Washington! Good-morning!" Children skip up and down. Baskets,
hoe, and rake are alike forgotten. Madam Washington stands in center,
and the plantation children are grouped in a wide semicircle about her,
so that all she does is in full view of audience. Lucy presents Madam
Washington with a bunch of roses. Madam Washington takes them, bows,
and smiles. Lucy drops a courtesy.
MADAM WASHINGTON.
How is your fever, Aunt Rachel?
AUNT RACHEL.
Better, better, I thank you.
LUCY.
Is this the day that Master George is starting for--
PETER
(as he comes running down from background).
Mistress Washington! Mistress Washington! Lord Fairfax has come, and
Master George's horse is all saddled and waiting.
[Madam Washington turns and, follows Peter back to the house.
AUNT RACHEL
(indicating left).
Come, children! You can see the road from here. There he is on his
horse!
[Young George Washington, in tan-colored frontiersman's garb, is seen
dimly through the trees. With him a stately figure that is Lord
Fairfax. They wave and bow in direction of house. Then George waves in
direction of plantation group in foreground.
SAMBO
(shielding his eyes with his hand).
I can see him! I can see him!
ALL
(looking off towards left, waving, gesticulating).
Good-by, good-by, Master George!
OTHERS.
Come back soon, Master George. Good-by! Good-by!
AUNT RACHEL
(sadly shaking her head).
He is gone! How we will miss him!
[An instant's dejection falls on the group. They stand saggingly, joy
gone from them.
AUNT RACHEL
(brightening).
It's only for a short time. Only for a short time. He'll be back. He'll
surely be back.
[The group brightens. A tambourine drops jinglingly. It is picked up.
Baskets and hoe are resumed. The group starts towards background,
leisurely, tunefully singing:
(Air: Chorus of "Down Where the Cotton Blossoms Grow.")
Bright shines the sun, the clover-fields are white,
Through the woods the happy children go:
As gay are our hearts as flowers swinging light,
When balmy airs of Springtime blow.
Gaily we work with spade and rake and hoe,
Golden shines the burnished sun of noon;
Then in the fields the shadows longer grow,
Time to be looking for the moon!
Then twilight comes, and then the velvet night,
Stars shine like a beacon through the gloam,
The old cabin road is gray beneath their light,
The long road that leads us to our home.
[As they sing the darkies move towards background. The voices grow
fainter and fainter. The scene ends.
COSTUMES
LORD FAIRFAX. Plum-colored velvet. Three-cornered black hat. White wig
with cue.
GEORGE WASHINGTON. Frontiersman's suit of cotton khaki, made on Indian
lines, with Indian tunic, and knee-breeches. Tan stockings, with
strappings of khaki wound round them, and moccasins.
MADAM WASHINGTON. Dark green quilted petticoat. Overdress and bodice of
dark green, flowered in old rose. Elbow sleeves. White ruffles of lace.
White lawn fichu. Powdered hair.
The plantation negroes wear tropically bright colors. All the colors
are solid. Aunt Rachel has a bright blue dress with a white apron and
kerchief, and a black cloak across her shoulders. She wears a scarlet
and yellow turban, and huge gold hoops in her ears. The negro girls
wear red and blue and green cotton dresses with white kerchiefs, and
colored aprons--a yellow apron with a red dress, and so on. Some of
them wear gay little turbans. Their feet are bare. The boys wear black
knee-breeches, and bright-colored shirts, open at the neck. Uncle Ned
wears black knee-breeches, low black shoes, and a faded scarlet vest
with gilt buttons opening over a soft white shirt.
GEORGE WASHINGTON'S FORTUNE
(Founded on a legend of him youth.)
CHARACTERS
GEORGE WASHINGTON, a Youthful Surveyor
Young Lads who serve respectfully as "chainmen" and "pilots"
RICHARD GLENN
JAMES TALBOT
KEITH CARY
A FRONTIERSMAN
RED ROWAN, his daughter
SCENE: An open woodland glade that is part of the wilderness portion of
Lord Fairfax's estate beyond the Blue Ridge Mountains in Virginia,
1748. Trees at right, left, and background. Trailing vines. Low bushes.
Underfoot a carpet of rotting leaves. At the left, near foreground, a
fire smolders. Near it are spread a bearskin used as a
sleeping-blanket, some pine boughs, surveyors' tools, and a tin box. At
the right a fallen tree-trunk, mossed, vine-covered. The time is
mid-afternoon. The lads who enter wear the garb of frontiersmen; but
when the play begins the forest glade is deserted until Richard Genn's
voice is heard from the woods in background.
RICHARD GENN.
Come on, then, Washington. Hurry there, Talbot! (Genn enters, carrying
chains and a surveyor's pole, and comes quickly to the fire.) Why, the
ashes have kept their heat since morning. We will not have to start
another fire.
JAMES TALBOT
(entering with Washington from background).
That's good hearing, for I'm famished. How say you, Washington?
WASHINGTON
(laughing and coming to fire).
I could eat a wild turkey, feathers and all. This life in the
wilderness makes one keenly hungry. What's in the box, Richard?
TALBOT
(delving into tin box).
Bacon. Some dry bread.
WASHINGTON.
Toast the bacon between the bread, and we'll have such a feast as is
due to young surveyors who've tramped a good ten miles since morning.
Now then, Richard. Here are some sticks. Let each lad toast his own.
TALBOT
(helping to prepare).
The very smell of it makes me ravenous. (To Genn.) I wonder where your
Uncle is, and Colonel Fairfax?
GENN.
Miles from here, doubtless. (Stretches.) But I _am_ stiff!
WASHINGTON.
And where can Carey be?
TALBOT.
Oh, Carey's lagged behind to get a shot at some grouse that he means to
have for supper. Hark!
CAREY
(In background).
Lads! Lads! Where be ye?
WASHINGTON
(calling in answer).
Here, Carey, here. (To the others.) That's he, now. Well, Carey, what
luck?
CAREY
(entering from background).
Any luck but pot luck. Missed both times. No grouse for us. I almost
wish I'd raided some frontiersman's cabin.
[Sits at fire.
WASHINGTON.
"Get what you can get honestly." (Passes him the bacon.) "Use what you
get frugally." That was an old saying I learned from my copybook, and
even in the wilderness it seems to hold true.
RICHARD GENN
(as they sit about fire, eating).
What's to be done when this meal is finished?
GEORGE WASHINGTON.
Naught that I know of. I can do no more till I receive further orders
from Colonel Fairfax.
TALBOT.
Well, then, we've a half-holiday. 'Tis the first idle time we've had in
three weeks. Up before dawn, and to bed before star-rise! I tell you it
makes the hours spin fast. How shall we pass our leisure?
CAREY.
I'm going back for those grouse.
[Rises.
TALBOT.
I've seen the bronze of a wild turkey's wing.
[Rises.
GENN
(smacking his lips).
I'd like to have that same turkey wing here before the fire! (Rises.)
I'm with you, Talbot, for whatever a sportsman's luck may bring. And
you, Washington?
WASHINGTON.
I'd best wait here to see if a message comes from Colonel Fairfax. If
in one hour the message does not come, I'll join you.
GENN
(ready to start).
Well, then, Talbot.
[The three lads start.
WASHINGTON
(to Carey).
I wish you luck! May you flush a grouse at every ten yards!
[Lads laugh, and exeunt, background. Washington looks after them a
moment, and then takes surveying paper from his pocket.
WASHINGTON.
Now for my wilderness chart!
[Pores over it. From the distance comes the sound of a frontiersman's
ax, which he is too absorbed to notice. Red Rowan enters from the
right, a wild, picturesque young figure in a scarlet cloak.
WASHINGTON
(to himself, as he bends over his chart).
'Tis not so easy as Little Hunting Creek!
RED ROWAN
(approaching him).
Nothing is easy in the wilderness!
WASHINGTON (starting up, gazing at her, and then brushing his hand
across his eyes).
I thought I was studying before the fire; but instead I've been
dreaming . . . dreaming!
RED ROWAN
(shaking her head).
No dream! Only a woodsman's daughter. You can hear my father yonder,
felling oaks. I saw the glimmer of your fire and came.
WASHINGTON
(with a boyish courtesy and shyness).
Will you--will you not be seated?
RED ROWAN
(seated on bearskin, looking at fire).
Folks call me Red Rowan.
WASHINGTON.
My name is Washington. George Washington.
RED ROWAN
(still looking at the fire).
You have a shrewd fire, and the air is chill in these mountains.
WASHINGTON.
Will you not have some bacon and bread? I wish there were more to offer
you.
RED ROWAN.
I'll have a taste of the bacon and a morsel of bread. (Washington
begins to prepare them). I thank you.
WASHINGTON
(toasting bread and bacon). The wilderness must be rough-seeming to
you.
RED ROWAN.
I'm well-used to deep forests and long, hard journeys, for the love of
a trail is in my blood. My grandfather was a gentleman rover, and my
father a frontiersman, and my mother was--a gipsy.
WASHINGTON
(surprised).
A gipsy?
RED ROWAN
(nodding).
Aye, but she died when I was little, and lies buried oversea. 'Tis ten
years now since my father came from England, and brought me with him.
WASHINGTON.
You have known little of a roof, then.
RED ROWAN.
Aye, or of schooling. But forests are kind teachers, and have given me
much. There is a lore deeper than the lore of books. You too must know
it. For with lonely campfires and winding roads and sharp, white,
frosty stars one comes to gather wisdom. Schoolbooks may give you the
past, but it is in my blood to know----
WASHINGTON
(as she pauses).
The future--!
RED ROWAN
(slowly, gazing at fire).
Or so I tell myself. I must ofttimes make up fancies to help the long
days pass. (Rises.) Come, for a jest, let me read your palm, Master
Washington. And in after years you may say: "Why, so Red Rowan told
me!"
WASHINGTON.
Would you have me put faith in witchcraft?
RED ROWAN
(offended).Do I look like a witch? Nay, but you know right well I do not.
Come, let me read your hand. 'Tis a mere jest, and will do no harm, and
you need not believe a word I say.
WASHINGTON.
I will not, if it is flattering; for I have learned aforetime that
_humility is the forerunner of advancement._ [Footnote: Washington's
own words]
RED ROWAN
(seated on mossy log, as she reads his hand). What would you wish to
be?
WASHINGTON
(simply).
When I grow older, a man of deeds, not words. [Footnote: Washington's
own words]
RED ROWAN.
Well, then, give hither. (Reading his hand.) Your name is Washington,
and you come from beyond Blue Ridge. All this I know. For the rest, let
me read. You are well versed in woodcraft, but not so well in books.
WASHINGTON.
There I must mend me.
RED ROWAN.
Aye. You are a notable horseman: your wrist is quick at the foils; you
can swim, climb, and fight, if need be. You are strong, and your valor
equals your strength, your courtesy, your bearing. The line of truth is
here. You smile?
WASHINGTON.
I was thinking of the matter of a hatchet and a cherry tree!
RED ROWAN
(still reading).
Through all your life, success will smile upon you. Here are the marks
of battles. Here are the lines of hardships and of victories. And all
these little lines--see, marches, marches, marches! You'll be a
colonel, and perhaps a general. You laugh? Some day you'll see! 'Twill
all come true! You'll fight in a great cause.
WASHINGTON
(puzzled).
What cause is there to fight for?
RED ROWAN.
That I do not know. But here 'tis clearly written. And you will win.
Your name will be on all men's tongues. 'Tis a long road, and all up
hill. But at the summit--triumph! Remember that. Upon the summit is
triumph.
WASHINGTON
(half-soberly).
And for the rest?
RED ROWAN.
You'll be upon a farmstead with great, rolling acres.
WASHINGTON.
Forest or farmstead, I care not which. That part is true enough,
Mistress Rowan. There was a time when I wished to go to sea; but now I
hope to spend my life at Ferry Farm.
RED ROWAN
(rising).
Part of it will be spent far otherwise. Remember that I told you.
WASHINGTON
(courteously). Aye, I'll remember, tho' 'tis but a jest.
RED ROWAN
(pausing).
Aye, a jest wrought of gipsy magic. I wish you well, Master Washington,
and I thank you for your hospitality.
FRONTIERSMAN'S VOICE
(calling from right).
Rowan!
RED ROWAN
(answering).
I'm coming, father. (To Washington.) Remember, Master Washington, that
I told you.
[Exit Rowan, quickly and lightly.
WASHINGTON
(smiling to himself).
Remember! Why, 'tis the merest jest.
CAREY
(from background).
Time's up, George! There's wondrous sport. Are you not coming?
WASHINGTON
(to Carey).
Aye, I am coming. (To himself.) But the merest jest! "To fight in a
great cause--!" "A long hill, and a hard, and at the summit--triumph!"
(Shaking off the spell the words have cast on him). The lads would
laugh, did I but tell them! (Calls, in answer to impatient steps, and
crackling of leaves in background.) I come!
[He makes his exit into background, running blithely, and the play
ends.
COSTUMES
GEORGE WASHINGTON. Frontiersman's suit, modeled on Indian lines. The
suit is tan-colored, supposedly made of dressed deerskin. The breeches
and tunic are fringed, Indian fashion. There is neither paint nor
beading upon the suits. Moccasins. The other lads wear suits of the
same kind. The material can be cotton khaki. The moccasins can be
made of the same, and beaded.
RED ROWAN. Dress of leaf-brown homespun made rather short, and quite
plain, open at the neck, the sleeves coming to the elbow. A cloak of
vivid scarlet, gathered in simple folds at neck, and falling to the
ankles. Both dress and cloak may be made of cambric, using the unglazed
side. Tan stockings. Moccasins. The latter may be made of cotton khaki,
and beaded.
DANIEL BOONE: PATRIOT
CHARACTERS
DANIEL BOONE, a pioneer.
ROGER KENTON, a lad
ALLAN RIGDON, another
BLAIZE PRITCHARD, a trapper
EDWARD BRYAN
JAMES COLBY
BLACK FISH, an Indian Chief
HAWK EYE, a young Indian Brave
EAGLE'S FEATHER, another
Other Pioneers, Trappers, Indians
(Note: The events comprised in this play cover a longer period of time
than is suggested here.)
SCENE: An open woodland. Place, the Blue Lick Springs, Kentucky, 1778.
Trees right, left, and background. A slightly worn path leads to
background where the salt springs are supposed to be. Tall poles with
skins on them. A large kettle swings over the fire in right foreground.
Near it are other kettles, iron saucepans, and sacks for salt. In
center background a hollow tree with swinging moss covering its
opening. A fallen log near the kettles serves as a seat.
The play begins by young Allan Rigdon coming out of woods, left, with a
few fagots which he feeds to the fire, bending over it, and looking in
the kettle. James Colby comes by the half-worn path from background,
carrying a bucket of water.
COLBY
(calling).
How comes the salt, Rigdon? If 'twere not that these licks give it in
such abundance, 'twould try a lad's patience sorely. 'Tis like a girl's
work--tending kettles! And hardly a man's work--carrying water from a
spring. (Puts down pail of water.) 'Faith, my arms are stiff, and my
fingers also! If an Indian sprang at me from a thicket I could not so
much as cock my gun! What shall I do next? Carry more water? The rest
are still drawing it--_more_ girl's work, if you'll leave me call it
so! (As a slight sound is heard at left.) Heaven's mercy! What's that?
(Seizes gun.) Is it Indians?
BOONE
(quietly approaching from left).
And if it were, would your work be only _girl's_ work, Colby? It shows
you but a foolish lad to speak of it thus lightly. With all
Boonesborough in need of salt, with our cattle and horses
half-perishing for the want of it, with the way that lies to the licks
a very wilderness road for danger, 'twould hardly be called girl's work
to tend these kettles--brave as our frontier women are. 'Tis _men's_
work, Colby, although you be but lads who do it.
RIGDON.
The wilderness makes men of lads right quickly; does it not, Master
Boone?
BOONE
(seated on log).
Aye, that it does. If it were not for the stress of the times, and the
scarcity of men to keep watch, you should be back in Boonesborough, and
not here, my lads. But 'twas for your courage and skill that I chose
you. How comes the salt, Rigdon?
RIGDON.
Finely, sir, finely. And the hunting?
BOONE
(shaking his head).
Scarce enough to keep a fox alive. I must start forth again. There
should be plenty of bison fat and deer meat for the days that are
coming. (Enter Kenton with bucket of water. He puts it down, and
salutes Boone.) Well, Kenton, what news from the springs?
KENTON.
The same as ever, sir. Blaize Pritchard and Edward Bryan stand guard
while the rest of us carry water. The camp is as you see it. There's
not been a sign of an Indian since you left us yesternight.
BOONE.
You do not ask what I've brought back with me, Kenton.
KENTON.
I know, sir, that if there were game to be had you would have bagged
it. But since we've come to the Blue Lick Springs the buffalo and deer
seem to have gotten wind of us. There's not so much as a rabbit
scampering across the grass. It seems as if nature herself were in
league against us.
BOONE.
Nonsense, lad. There'll be game enough soon, when I've foraged further.
Such times as these were sent to us to see whether we be of iron or
putty.
KENTON.
All the same, sir, I'll be glad when the boiling is done and we can
pack our salt, and start through the forest for home. Long as the trail
is, I would sooner have it than----
BOONE
(clutching rifle).
Hark! The crack of a branch--in the forest. On the defense, lads. I'll
investigate.
[Goes into woods at right.
KENTON
(in a low voice, as the lads seize their rifles).
If it should be those venomous Shawnees! Before we left Boonesborough
'twas said that they'd already passed the war-pipe through their
villages. They have been still so long, 'tis time for an uprising.
(Approaching footsteps are heard.) Who comes?
COLBY
(on the alert).
Just Boone himself.
RIGDON.
What signs, sir?
BOONE.
No signs at all, unless for the first time in their lives the Indians
are shrewder than the Long Knives. There's not so much as a broken
branch, or a newly fallen leaf. Now, lads, off to the spring with you.
I'll tend this last kettle, and when 'tis boiled, I'll start on the
trail again. There must be bison and deer for the followers of Daniel
Boone. Lads, stay! If because we are unmolested you should sometimes
think that tending the kettle is work for girls--remember that we and
our guns are all that stand between the Indians and the fort at
Boonesborough, where all the women and children are. Will you remember?
ALL
(speaking vehemently).
Aye, sir.
BOONE.
And as I take the trail I will remember the lads who've lived on dry
bread and the paring of bacon rinds, and who've tasted naught but
parched buffalo meat in three weeks.
RIGDON.
You've gone hungry yourself, sir.
BOONE.
Well, lads, 'tis all in the day's luck. We'll not suffer for meat if I
can shoot an elk or a bear. (Lads exeunt through trees in background,
Boone watching them.) Brave lads they are, and true!
[He tends the kettle, facing audience. After a moment Indians
stealthily appear in background.
EAGLE'S FEATHER
(as two of the braves seize Boone).
Long Knife, surrender!
[There is a brief struggle between Boone and the braves; but the former
finds, that it is useless to resist.
HAWK EYE.
Shawnees on warpath. Long have watched Boone and tried to trap him. Now
have got him. Boone show trail to Boonesborough.
BOONE
(to himself, in a tense whisper).
Boonesborough?
BLACK FISH
(majestically).
What answer does Long Knife Boone make? If Long Knife joins tribe, Long
Knife will be treated with honor. All at Boonesborough will be killed;
but Boone's life will be spared if he joins tribe. What answer does
Long Knife Boone make?
[Boone considers deeply for a moment. His gun has been taken from him;
but he is so closely surrounded that his arms are left free. He
considers deeply for another moment, arms crossed on breast, head
bowed. Looks up for an instant. Gives a searching glance at the
Indians. Considers again for a moment. Then raises his head.
BOONE.
Long Knife says--yes!
[Holds out his hands, smiling.
ALL INDIANS
(delighted at pantomime of acquiescence).
Wah!
BLACK FISH
(waving tomahawk in air).
Long Knife's brothers--over by spring!
ALL INDIANS
(in chorus).
Kill! Kill!
BOONE.
Wait! Black Fish try to kill Long Knife's brothers. Long Knife's
brothers fight back. Kill maybe one brave. Maybe two braves. Maybe
three braves. But--Boone speak to his white brothers. They surrender to
Black Fish. No fighting. No braves killed. What does Black Fish answer?
BLACK FISH.
Black Fish answers: Long Knife show great wisdom. Black Fish do as Long
Knife says.
[Some of the Indians start in the direction of the spring.
HAWK EYE
(grunting).
Umph!
[Kenton is suddenly brought in by two braves who have captured him. As
his eye falls on Boone his voice shrills with terror.
KENTON.
Oh, they have caught you! They have--
[The rest of the pioneers begin to appear from background, closely
guarded by the Indians.
COLBY
(as all of Boone's little band are brought in as captives). What's
this? Not Boone a traitor?
BOONE.
Hush! (To the other white men.) No use to fight. We are surrounded. (To
Black Fish.) Does Black Fish give me leave to speak to my comrades
apart?
[Black Fish nods assent. Boone and his band withdraw to left. The
Indians withdraw to right. Each side holds a conference. That of the
Indians is in pantomime.
BOONE
(to his band).
No use to fight, lads. Put up your guns. (Indicates Indians.) Half a
score more are in the woods behind us. If we surrender, we may gain
some time. If we refuse, we're lost. They'll march at once on
Boonesborough.
KENTON.
Wilson's gone free, sir. He'll take Boonesborough the news of our
capture.
BOONE
(rapidly).
Aye; but he cannot take them the news of what Black Fish means to do.
No one in Boonesborough knows that the Indians are on the warpath. A
massacre is planned. The fires are lit. The tomahawks are ready. We
must gain time. 'Tis all that we can do. We must surrender. I'll break
through when I can. (Loudly.) Think well, my brothers. Here is freedom
offered you, if you surrender. What do you say?
PRITCHARD
(loudly).
I say that we surrender.
[Boone, turning, makes a gesture to the spot where their guns lie
piled, then towards the Indians as one would say: "We give in."
BLACK FISH.
My brothers, we, too, have had a council. Far in the North the British
pay much gold for paleface prisoners.
PRITCHARD
(involuntarily).
Oh, Boone, we're sold!
BOONE
(quickly).
No! Saved! The British will take a ransom, and Boonesborough will pay
it to the uttermost farthing. (In a low voice.) Come, strategy!
Strategy! I will break through to-night.
PRITCHARD.
Great Chief Black Fish, to you we have surrendered. With your braves we
will take the trail to the British encampment.
BLACK FISH
(grunting with pleasure).
Umph! Much money for paleface prisoners. (To Hawk Eye). Give prisoners
bison meat. Water. See they not die on road. No want to lose money they
bring. Braves march now. Boone not go. Boone stay with us.
[While Black Fish has been speaking the braves and their prisoners line
up for departure. Meantime, from the woods in background other Indians
have joined the group. Those who have captured Boone describe the feat
in dumbshow. The newly arrived Indians bear food, a blanket or so, a
war-drum, pipes, etc.
BOONE
(striving to speak gaily).
A good journey, my lads. I shall be thinking of you.
EDWARD BRYAN
(low: aside, full of commiseration).
You will be here alone!
BOONE
(hurriedly, seeing that Bryan's remark has been overheard by the
Indians).
With my kind brothers! (Quickly, seeing that Black Fish's back is
turned.) March bravely, lads. Remember Boonesborough!
PRITCHARD
(moved).
Your hand, Boone.
BOONE
(clasping Pritchard's hand).
My comrade!
[They look at each other a long moment. Then the line, Indian-guarded,
and led by Hawk Eye, marches out, left.
BLACK FISH
Now we make a great feast. Celebrate.
[They all sit on ground. War-pipe is passed. Gourds with grape wine.
Dried fish. Dried fruits. General hum of excitement and pleasure.
Animated and colorful groups. Boone smokes the war-pipe when it is
passed to him. Drinks and eats freely with the others. Through it all,
now soft, now loud, sounds the drone of the war-drum. Now and again a
young buck yells jubilantly, or ejaculates a shrill "_E-yah!_" of
pleasure. They rise from feasting to dance in a war-circle about the
drum, right. Boone does a few steps with them, and then retreats to
left of stage. More dances. Speeches with short guttural words and
grunts. Waving of tomahawks. Shrill cries. Another circle is formed
about the war-drum. Attention drifts away from Boone. Finally, after a
second dance about the war-drum Eagle's Feather gives a sudden cry of
"_Boone! Boone gone!_" Intense excitement. Cries of rage. General
search as Indians exeunt right and left. One or two lag behind and look
in bushes. Eagle's Feather pulls back swinging moss from hollow tree
and looks within. Then the baffled Indians dart off stage, right. A
moment later Boone enters from left. Looks warily about him, right,
left, and background. Then darts into hollow tree. A moment later the
Indians, headed by Eagle's Feather, enter right, left, and background.
They gesticulate with cries of "_Boonesborough!_" Some urge taking the
way at left, others the way at right. Eagle's Feather is among the
latter. The way at right is ultimately decided upon. With a final yell
of "_Boonesborough!_" and great swinging of tomahawks, all the Indians
exeunt right. The drone of the war-drum begins, and grows fainter and
fainter as they go into the forest. The gourds and blankets and pipes
they have collected and taken with them as supplies for the march.
BOONE
(coming triumphantly out of his hollow tree).
They have taken the wrong trail! I am free to warn my people! I can
gain the fort ere the Indians reach it! Boonesborough is saved.
[Exit Boone, running left. The grassy space is left vacant, and the
scene ends.
COSTUMES
DANIEL BOONE. Daniel Boone and his followers wear suits of buckskin
made on Indian lines. (Cotton khaki imitates the tan color of the
buckskin.) Long breeches, the buckskin tunic coming about to the knee.
It is fringed. There is no adornment on the tunics such as Indians
wear. The lads of the party wear buckskin breeches of knee-length, and
tan strapping over tan-colored stockings. They should all wear
moccasins, or imitation moccasins made of khaki, and embroidered in
beads.
THE INDIANS. The Indians wear suits resembling those of Boone and his
followers, save that they have painted insignia and bead and shell
embroidery. Black Fish has a great black fish painted on his khaki
costume. All wear moccasins. All have feathered head-dresses and
war-paint. The war-paint of Black Fish is scarlet and black, and he
wears an immense black head-dress of feathers that is longer and
handsomer than those of any of the others. Eagle's Feather wears a
scarlet head-band and one huge gray eagle's feather in it, stuck
upright. For further description of Indian finery see description of
braves in "Princess Pocahontas." The blankets and baskets can be the
same in this play as in that one.
PROPERTIES. The hollow tree can be made of two halves of barrels
fastened together, and stood upright by means of props put behind it.
It should be painted dark brown inside and out, or covered with
dark-brown burlap flecked with black and white for lichen. Green vines
can be hung about it, and it should stand well in the background,
resembling a rotting and blasted tree as much as possible.
BENJAMIN FRANKLIN EPISODE
CHARACTERS
YOUNG BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
AN OLD WOMAN