SCENE. _The hill. A young Soldier enters_.
How gloriously, with what a lonely majesty the morning wastes in that
silent valley there; with its moving shadows, and breeze and sunshine,
and its thousand delicious sounds mocking those desolate homes----
(_He stops suddenly, and looks earnestly into the thicket_.)
This is strange, indeed. This feeling that I cannot analyze, still grows
upon me. _Presentiment?_ Some dark, swift-flying thought, leaves its
trace, and the cause-seeking mind, in the range of its own vision
finding none, looks to the shadowy future for it.
[_He passes on_.
(_Two Indian Chiefs, in their war-dress, emerge from the thicket,
talking in suppressed tones_.)
_1st Chief_. Hoogh! Hoogh! Alaska fights to revenge his son,--we spill
our blood to revenge his son, and he thinks to win gifts besides. Hugh!
A brave chief he is!
_2nd Chief_. Your talk is not good, Manida. They are our enemies,--we
shall conquer them, we shall see their chestnut locks waving aloft, we
shall dance and shout all night around them, and the eyes of the maidens
shall meet ours in the merry ring, sparkling with joy, as we shout
"Victory! victory! our enemies are slain,--our foot is on their necks,
we have slain our enemies!" What more, Manida? Is it not enough?
_1st Chief_. No. I went last night with Alaska to the camp above, to the
tent of the young sachem of the lake, and he promised him presents, rich
and many, for an errand that a boy might do. I asked Alaska to send me
for him, and he would not.
_2nd Chief_. The young white sachem was Alaska's friend, many moons ago,
when Alaska was wounded and sick.--He must revenge young Siganaw, but he
must keep his faith to his white friend, too.
_1st Chief_. Ah, but I know where the horse is hidden and the paper.
When the tomahawks flash here, and the war-cry is loudest, we will steal
away. Come, and I will share the prize with you.
_2nd Chief_. No, I will tell my brother chief that Manida is a
treacherous friend.
_1st Chief_. You cannot. It is too late. Hist! Quick, lower--lower--
[_They crouch among the trees_.
(_Another Soldier emerges from the wood-path, singing_.)
"_Then march to the roll of the drum,
It summons the brave to the plain,
Where heroes contend for the home
Which perchance they may ne'er see again_."
(_Pausing abruptly_.) Well, we are finely manned here!
(_1st Soldier re-enters_.)
_2nd Sol_. How many men do you think we have in all, upon this hill,
Edward?
_1st Sol_. Hist!--more than you count on, perhaps.
_2nd Sol_. Why? What is the matter? Why do you look among those bushes
so earnestly?
_1st Student_. It is singular, indeed. I can hardly tell you what it is,
but twice before in my round, precisely in this same spot, the same
impression has flashed upon me, though the sense that gives it, if sense
it is, will not bide an instant's questioning. There! Hist! Did nothing
move there then?
_2nd Sol_. I see nothing. This comes of star-gazing, when you should
have slept. Though as to that, I have nothing to complain of, certainly.
I had to thank your taste that way, last night, for an hour of the most
delicious slumber. It was like that we used to snatch of old, between
the first stroke of the prayer-bell and its dying peal.
_1st Sol_. I am glad you could sleep. For myself, such a world of
troubled thoughts haunted me, I found more repose in waking.
_2nd Sol_. Then I wish you could have shared my dream with me, as indeed
you seemed to, for you were with me through it all. A blessed dream it
was, and yet--
_1st Sol_. Well, let me share it with you now.
_2nd Sol_. I cannot tell you how it was, that in honor and good
conscience we had effected it, but somehow, methought our part in this
sickening warfare was accomplished, and we were home again. Oh the joy
of it! oh the joy of it! Even amid my dream, methought we questioned its
reality, so unearthly in its perfectness, it seemed. We stood upon the
college-green, and the sun was going down with a strange, darkling
splendor; and from afar, ever and anon came the thunder roll of battle;
but we had nought to do with it; our part was done; our time was out; we
were to fight no more. And there we stood, watching the students' games;
and there too was poor _Hale_, merry and full of life as e'er he was,
for never a thought of his cruel fate crossed my dream. Suddenly we saw
two ladies, arm in arm, come swiftly down the shady street, most
strangely beautiful and strangely clad, with long white robes, and
garlands in their hair, and such a clear and silvery laugh, and
something fearful in their loveliness withal; and one of them, as she
came smiling toward us--do you remember that bright, fair-haired girl we
met in yonder lane one noon?--Just such a smile as hers wore the lady
in my dream. Then, into the old chapel we were crowding all; that
long-deferred commencement had come on at last; we stood upon a stage,
and a strange light filled all the house, and suddenly the ceiling
swelled unto the skiey dome, and nations filled the galleries; and I
woke, to find myself upon a soldier's couch, and the reveille beating.
_1st Sol_. Well, if it cheered you, 'twas a good dream most certainly,
though, yet--the dream-books might not tell you so. Will you take this
glass a moment?
_2nd Sol_. What is it?
_1st Sol_. That white house by the orchard, in the door--do you see
nothing?
_2nd Sol_. Yes, a figure, certainly;--yes, now it moves. I had thought
those houses were deserted,--it is time they were I think, for all the
protection we can give them. How long shall we maintain this post, think
you, with such a handful?
_1st Sol_. Till the preparations below are complete, I trust so at
least, for we have watchers in these woods, no doubt, who would speedily
report our absence.
_2nd Sol_. Well, if we all see yonder sun go down, 'tis more than I
count on.
_1st Sol_. A chance if we do--a chance if we do. Will the hour come when
this infant nation shall forget her bloody baptism?--the holy name of
truth and freedom, that with our hearts' blood we seal upon her in these
days of fear?
_2nd Sol_. Ay, that hour may come.
_1st Sol_. Then, with tears, and _blood_ if need be, shall she learn it
anew; and not in vain shall the bones of the martyrs moulder in her
peopled vales. For human nature, in her loftiest mood, was this
beautiful land of old built, and for ages hid. Here--her cradle-dreams
behind her flung; here, on the height of ages past, her solemn eye down
their long vistas turned, in a new and nobler life she shall arise here.
Ah, who knows but that the book of History may show us at last on its
long-marred page--_Man_ himself,--no longer the partial and deformed
developments of his nature, which each successive age hath left as if in
mockery of its ideal,--but, man himself, the creature of thought,--the
high, calm, majestic being, that of old stood unshrinking beneath his
Maker's gaze. Even, as first he woke amid the gardens of the East, in
this far western clime at last he shall smile again,--a perfect thing.
_2nd Sol_. In your earnestness, you do not mark these strange sounds,
Edward. Listen. (_He grasps his sword_.)
(_A Soldier rushes down the path_.)
_3d Sol_. We are surrounded! Fly. The Indians are upon us. Fly.
[_Rushes on_.
(_Another Soldier bursts from the woods_.)
_4th Sol_. God! They are butchering them above there, do not stand here!
[_Rushes down the hill_.
_2nd Sol_. Resistance is vain. Hear those shrieks! There is death in
them. Resistance is vain.
_1st Sol_. Flight is vain. Look yonder! Francis,--the dark hour hath
come!
_2nd Sol_. Is it so? Mother and sister I shall see no more.
(_A number of Indians, disfigured with paint and blood, and
brandishing their knives, come rushing down the road, uttering short,
fierce yells. Others from below, bringing back the fugitives_.)
_1st Sol_. We shall die together. God of Truth and Freedom, unto thee
our youthful spirits trust we.
(_The Indians surround them. Fighting to the last, they fall_.)
* * * * *