[Enter Bill, hurriedly.

Bill (excited). He's not in thar! Look 'round the room. Ain't he in here!

[Goes hurriedly to the straw, then to mattress, then dashes into the other room.

Hop. Escaped! Impossible! Why not you?

[Re-enter Bill, runs to door on left, then into hall, crying, "Escaped prisoner! Guard!" The prison bell begins to ring.

[Enter Bill, followed by four men with rifles, carrying lanterns.

Bill (rushes to Gordon in a rage). Whar's that fellow gone? Tell me, or I'll—

[Starts to strike him.

Winth. You'll be kicked out of this prison—(To guards) Search the rooms. He may be hiding (to Gordon). For God's sake man, where has he gone?

[Gordon has come to the mattress, where he half kneels, watching the others.

Gordon (in a low voice). No.

[Re-enter the guard, followed by the rest of the prisoners, much excited. They talk in low voices to one another.

Hop. (coming forward with the lantern). Hello! What's this? Fresh earth on the floor. Here, men. Quick!

[They snatch away the mattress, disclosing the round hole in the floor.

Winth. He's gone.

Hop. (bending down). Where does this lead?

Winth. The drain pipe underneath the prison. Here, men, to the entrance on the river bank. Two of you wait to watch in here.

[Exit two of the guard and Bill.

Hop. What do you think it means?

Winth. That their plan has been successful.

Hop. (in an agony). Hillary had important news, but what—what can he have found out?

Winth. (turns to Gordon, almost pleading). Have you nothing for us to hear?

Gordon. Nothing.

Winth. Tell me, man. Ah, tell me why. You came into this of your own free choice, I can see that. You came that you might save him. That was not all. He had information. Then, that was it. Well, sir, the fight is on. You've won so far.

[A sudden radiant look of joy comes over Gordon's face.

Gordon. I pray God you are not mistaken.

[Re-enter Bill and the guards.

Bill. He's gone, whether by boat or horse we can't tell. We have a guard stationed at the river.

Winth. Very good. You may wait outside.

[Exit the two men.

Send the men back to the room.

Bill. Git back to bed, all of ye!

[The men go back to room (Right). As they pass Gordon, the soldier Carter gave the water to stops quickly, catching his hand.

Third Soldier. I wish you could have gone too.

[Gordon presses his hand, then the soldier exits with the others.

Bill. What else, sir?

Hop. Nothing; you can go.

[Exit Bill.

Winth. (comes slowly up to Gordon). Tomorrow. Have you thought about tomorrow?

Gordon (raising his head). Yes.

Winth. And the women who love you—Little Fair and Charlotte?

Gordon. They too!

Winth. (breaks out). Is there no hope for you: you will not speak? Ah, in God's name, think what you do!

Gordon. I have thought, sir.

Winth. (speaking low and very intently). Tell the news that Carter carried; tell me the way that he has gone, and why; tell me things he has found out—and, man, your part shall go unheeded and he released, if captured before he gives that news: tell me. Ah, God! man, tell me, and tomorrow, instead of giving up your life, you shall go free. You understand? You shall go free.

[For just a second Gordon hesitates. Winthrop starts forward with a glad cry of "Yes." Then Gordon looks away off towards the moon-lit window; his face is strangely bright; he is almost smiling; he turns to Winthrop.

Gordon. If I had a thousand lives, I'd give each one of them in turn for the Confederacy!

[As Gordon finishes speaking, the clock outside strikes one.

Winth. (starts as the clock strikes). You hear? Five hours more: Then you must die! You hear it—you must die! No power on earth can save you but yourself. Speak—for God's sake, speak! and let me take you home to them a free man—

Gordon. And a coward?

Winth. No, not that. The chances on your side are even. You have done all you could. Think of the old days when we lived down there, and how we hunted and fished and played together. Think of the love that's there for you. Think what your death would mean to them. Ah, speak out! Think of their grief!

Gordon. Grief does not kill. They will not die. If they were here, they'd say to me, each one of them: Be strong!

[Winthrop starts, then turns quickly away into the darkness outside the square of moonlight, covering his face with his hands. When he turns, his face is drawn and white.

Winth. (takes his hand, pressing it). I can take them no better word than this: you died as you have lived.

[He turns to the door where Hopkins has awaited him. Quickly they go out into the hall. Bill's voice is heard without.

Bill. You through for the night!

[He closes the door and locks it. At the sound of the key Gordon sinks to his knees in the square of moonlight.

Gordon. Thank God! (He remains with head bowed for a second, then looks about him). Five hours more!

[The heavy door of the prison is heard to close.

Gone! (He rises quickly to his feet). They have gone—and in the morning I have got to die! To-morrow! And on the scaffold, as a thief! To-night I have begun—to-morrow, then, sees how I end! Here, here, I must not think of that. No, no; I will not. That is not for me. Five hours more! The time is very short. Show me, dear God, how I shall spend it well and like a man! For is not Morgan saved! Has not the news gone safely out to him! And who has done all this! Thank God! thank God! he gave that place to me! What matter if I am afraid, for now 'tis done—'tis done! I've saved the greatest man that ever lived. I've saved him—saved him! I—yes, I! What does it matter that I want to live—I want to live!

[He sinks down upon the mattress, covering his face with his arms, as

THE CURTAIN FALLS.



ACT IV.

The banks of the Aspen River, six months later. A cold, cloud-hung afternoon in late November. At the back the river may be seen through the trees, now almost stripped of their summer foliage. On both sides of the scene are heavy forest trees, mostly pine and cedar. Across the stage there winds a narrow and very rough road. It is the scene of Winthrop's camp, six months before. On the left a large fir tree, with branches low to the ground; on the right, some scrub pine and oak. Some traces of the camp are still to be seen; some broken boxes; the charred remains of a fire at the right, near front. The sound of the wind in the pines at rise. Enter Corporal Evans and Hopkins (Right) by the road. They have on their leggings and heavy army overcoats, with the collars up.

Evans (shivering). Uh! nasty weather. I have always been told about the sunny South. Good example of it, this!

Hopkins. It won't last long, I fancy. The last time I was here the fall was beautiful; never saw such splendid weather (he looks around). The old camp again. How much can happen in six months. Remember the fight here? I hate to think about it. We did well to get off with our lives.

Evans. Most of them didn't. I remember that night just like it was yesterday; 'twas the very night you got back from Columbus. The moon had just set behind them hills, and the sentry reported all quiet. I was just turning in, when down on us like a whirlwind came that rebel, Morgan. We didn't have a show; 'twas "boots and saddles" quicker than I ever saw it before.

Hop. Their victory all right; more than half our men were killed or captured, and all through the information that fellow Hillary brought through when he escaped from prison (he gazes off across the river). I wonder what's become of them—the people over there?

Evans. Why, ain't you heard a word from them?

Hop. No, not since we were here in May. Things look right different now. Why, all along the way, as we were marching here, I couldn't help thinking how it was changed; the fences down, the fields all gone to waste, most of the houses burned, and only here and there some crazy negro cabin, looking as though it were about to tumble down. How those poor devils live I don't quite see. Ten or twelve of them in just one little room; and then to see them run and hide when we pass by, you'd never think we came down here to free them.

Evans. How's Col. Winthrop today? He hasn't seemed the same since this here fight six months ago. He used to be the life of all the camp, and now he hardly ever speaks. Seems like he has grieved most to death. I wonder why? Losing a few men don't often hurt a soldier so.

Hop. (again looking off across the river). Perhaps it isn't that.

Evans. I wonder why—(he stops, as the sound of voices is heard among the trees (Left). Hello! What's that?

[Off (Left) a child is heard.

The Child. Come on, come on; it's recess!

Hop. Who is it?

Evans. Them children from the school, I guess. It's just a little way up the road, I've heard; we'd better duck!

Hop. Yes; back in the trees. No one must see us (he looks off (Left). Hello! Who's that with them?

Evans. The school ma'm, I guess. Come.

Hop. (looking intently off). You go; I'll come in a second.

[Exit Evans.

Miss Charlotte! Have they come to this? She teaching school!

[He exits (Right) among the trees.

A Little Girl's Voice (nearer). Come on, come on; we're going to the camp.

[Enter by the road (Left) a little group of children; they are very small, between the ages of six and ten, all dressed in poor, home-made garments; some of the girls have shawls over their heads. They seem happy. Nearly all carry little parcels wrapped in paper.

A Boy. Ain't you glad it's recess, and we can eat our lunch down here?

A Girl. Corse we are. We can't stay long, though—it's so cold.

A Boy. Ain't you got any mittens, Susie?

Girl. No, but I'm not cold—not much.

The Boy. Here, you take these. I don't need um—truly.

The Girl. Oh, oh—thank you, Jim. (She puts them on). Oh, me, but they are nice and warm.

[Enter slowly by the road (Left) Charlotte. She is very pale and tired looking. She wears a black dress and black scarf over her hair. She leads a tiny little girl who carries her package of lunch.

Char. We can't stay long, remember, children. It is very cold.

[The children go the boxes (Right) and begin to open the lunch.

A Boy. We're eatin' same as soldiers.

[A little boy and girl, the poorest dressed of the children, stand a little apart from the rest watching them. Their little faces are pinched and thin; they seem very sad. The little girl by Charlotte begins to open her lunch with much importance, spreading the paper on Charlotte's lap, who sits on a stump (Left).

The Baby Girl. Oh, look! Miss Charlotte. I've dot a torn pone wid 'lasses on it.

Char. (affecting great interest). My, what a fine lunch you have, baby!

The Child (holding half up to her). You dot to have some, too.

Char. (stroking her hair). No, precious; you must eat your nice lunch. You know Aunt Marthy is going to bring Miss Charlotte hers.

The Baby. Teacher ain't dot no good lunch. Please, eat some of mine.

[Charlotte breaks off a tiny piece of bread and begins to nibble it, affecting great enjoyment. The child begins to eat her own lunch happily.

A Girl by Box (speaking to another nearer). Johnnie and Sue ain't got no dinner.

A Boy. They's too poor, I speck.

The Girl. Don't you say that. Their papa's killed.

[She goes to the boy and girl, offering half her dinner; the others follow, offering theirs. The two children begin to smile, and reach eagerly for the lunch and eat as though very hungry.

A Girl. Come on, let's have a party.

[They all gather round the box, laying the lunch out on it. They have little, mostly corn pone and bacon.

The Baby Girl (who has watched them eagerly). Me do have party, too. (She comes to the box, laying her half-eaten corn pone with the rest). I dot 'lasses on mine.

[Charlotte sits watching them. She smiles as the little child joins them.

A Girl. We must ask the blessin'. Mamma says we must.

The Baby. Me say blessin'. Me knows how.

[All the children bow their heads around the box. The baby stands with eyes tight closed.

Dood Lord, we thank Thee. A—amen.

[The children raise their heads and begin to eat very fast.

A Boy. My, it's good!

Char. (coming over to where they are). Aren't you getting cold?

A Boy. No, no; not a bit; and besides, we want to skip stones.

The Baby. Me skip stones, too.

[At the suggestion, they all jump up from the box, still eating, and run to the back of scene.

A Boy. Bet I can throw across the river.

Another Boy. Bet you can't.

[They both try.

The Boy. I did. See where it hit!

The Younger Boy. Well, I most did.

Baby Girl (tries to throw). Me throw.

Char. Come, children, we must go back now.

Boy. Just a little minute more.

[They throw again.

A Girl. Come on, teacher's tired; we must go back.

[They start off (Left).

Baby Girl. Me tired, too. (Runs to Charlotte; holds up arms). Please?

Char. (lifts her). And when we get back, teacher will tell a story.

A Boy. Come on, come on; it's going to be a story.

[They all start off, followed by Charlotte carrying the little girl. As she is nearly off, enter Winthrop (Right). He is very changed and seems much older than before. His step is less alert, as he walks slowly, his arms folded on his breast. He looks up, sees Charlotte, and starts as though to withdraw.

The Baby. Dare's a pine cone—wants it.

[Charlotte puts her down; she gets cone; then Charlotte lifts her again, and slowly exit (Left).

Winth. (gazing longingly after her). And they have come to that—she teaching for her living! God! when will this end? And the others—are they, too, working—Mrs. Stuart and Fair? Have they come to this! If I could only see the old place. I wonder if it has gone to ruin as all the rest has gone. (He gazes longingly across the river, as Hopkins has done). Hello! what's that? A boat! and crossing the stream. By George, it's old Aunt Marthy; she's rowing the boat herself. I wonder where she's going. Poor soul! She's coming after Charlotte, I suppose. She's landing; she can hardly climb the bank. I wonder who runs the ferry now, and the old mill, where Fair and I used to ride together and sit and watch the water on the wheel.

[His face has a white, set look.

Aunt Marthy (off Right). Ef I kin get up dis here bank. I ain't fit ter be climbin' 'round dis way. Dar, I's up, I reckon.

Winth. Coming this way. I'll speak to her. She'll tell me how they are.

[Enter Marthy (Right). She carries a small, covered basket. She is looking down, picking her way over the rough ground, and does not see Winthrop.

Winth. Aunt Marthy.

Marthy (looks up, sees him, starts, looks again). Fo' Gaud! ef hit ain't Mars Winthrop.

Winth. I'm mighty glad to see you, Marthy. What are you doing 'way out here?

Marthy. Well, sir, I sho is sprised ter see you. I don come 'cross de river to fotch Miss Charlotte her dinner.

Winth. Where is she?

Marthy. She up dar at de school house. Ain't you don hear 'bout dat? She's teachin' school.

Winth. I haven't heard anything about them for a long time now. I haven't been here since the fight last May.

Marthy. I come hyer most every day to fotch de lunch for her. She bin teachin' since September. I couldn't git nobody to row de ferry, so I had ter get in de skiff and row dat way. Cos I bleeged ter get hyer some way.

Winth. How are they all now, Marthy? I hope they are all well. I have tried so hard to get some word of them, but no one seemed to know. How are they?

Marthy. Well, sir, dey ant so well as what de might be. Pears like hits hard ter say just how dey is, de trouble done change um so. I reckon, do, deys well, and cose, sir, dey ant give up; nor, sir, ant ney one ob um done dat. You heard bout Mars George bein kill way down dar bout two miles other side of the place. Yes, sir, dats when you was hyr las time. Pears like hit come on us so fast I sorter disremember. Well, dey brought him home—Old Mistus and Miss Charlotte did—but, sir, hit change um mighty. Deys jus as brave and fine as dey ever bin, but cose, sir, hit change um. Den dar was de time Mars Carter he was captured and Mars Gorden go arter him and turn him loose, but he ant save hisself. You know bout dat, do, I reckon. Dey—(she pauses, then continues with an effort). Dey hung him, sir, next mornin fo de suns up good. Cose dey offer him he freedom, but dat ant mek no difference ter him. He done save de army, and dat what he kyr bout. Well, sir, dey brung him home and me and Miss Charlotte and Miss Fair and Mars Bev we bury him wid our own hands. De soldiers say dey dig de grave, but Mistus she say no, she reckon we can do hit; so Cupid dig de grave down in de gyrden and we bury him dar next day, close by Mars Phil and Mars George (she pauses and draws her hand across her eyes). Well, sir, hit did seem dat ought ter be de end ob de trouble, but de very next Sunday mornin we see de ambulance wagen turn in at de gate, and hit was Mars Carter and Old Marster, both on um, sir, both on um! Mars Carter was done shot dead and Old Marster done had he leg shot off up near his body (she pauses again). Peared like Old Mistus knowed dey was comin. She done dress up in her black silk dress and standin out dar in de front porch waitin. When dey come up to de do, she jus look down at um fer a minute, den she say rite lo, "In hyr, please," and she turn and led the way back to her room. She sot dar all night long wid Old Marster's head on her brest, talkin to him, rite easy, bout how proud she was ob her soldiers and how glad she was dat deyd come home: but, sir, hit warnt no use, he died long bout mornin, cause dey warnt no doctor we could get fer him. We buried um long side ob de others out dar in de gyrden; and dar dey is—five on um, sir, and we ant got nobody lef us cep little Mars Bev. Yes, sir, he dar yet, praise Gaud!

[Winthrop has been listening eagerly, but towards the latter part he turns away, looking off across the river. When he turns he is strangely pale and worn looking. He speaks with an effort.

Winth. And Fair, how is she now?

Marthy. Well, sir, dat child done keep Old Mistus live, I recon. She and Mars Bev dey took de old place rite in dey own hands and run hit, sir. Dey do mos everything whats did roun dar now. Cose Cupid he helps a little, but den he cripple wid de rumatiz and cose he can't do much. Dem chullen gets us mos all what we has ter eat. Dey raise er little crap ob corn and work hit demselves. Dey got ol Jack yet. Dey done gib de other hoses to de army, since Old Mistus say she recon she ant need um no mo. Yes, sir, deys de bestis chullen. But Mars Bev still talk bout goin in de army. He say he bleged ter go, cause he par say de las thing fo he died dat he want hit (she is speaking slowly, almost to herself). Miss Fair done got de uniform ready. I reckon hit wont be long now; yes, sir, I reckon it wont be long.

Winth. (suddenly). Marthy, I want you to do something for me. Will you?

Marthy. Yes, marster.

Winth. (gives her a roll of greenbacks). I want you to take this and see that they want for nothing (she hesitates). I am their kinsman, and I have a right to give this for their support. Here, take it.

[He presses the money into her hands.

Marthy. I thanks you sir; I sho does. Hit'll do me a power er good ter git um somethin' they kin eat. I reckon I better say nothin' 'bout hit, though. Dey's Stuarts yet, sir, even do de war done brek um.

Winth. Of course. And here—I'll send you more when this is gone. Where can I send it?

Marthy. De post office at de junction don bin burn down. But ef you leave hit wid any one of um over dar, I'll git hit.

Winth. Yes. And is there anything else—anything on God's earth I can do for them?

Marthy (slowly). No, sir. And I thanks you fer doin' so much. But I rekon dey ain't nothin' none of us kin do.

[She slowly exits up the road (Left).

Winth. (looking after her). I guess she's right. There's nothing we can do.

[Enter Hopkins.

Hop. The men are coming on to camp here in the old place; the ground is too bad down there.

Winth. Yes, yes; of course.

[Enter Evans and a party of some ten or twelve soldiers. Two of them begin to light a fire on the old place covered with ashes.

Evans. We found good shelter for the horses underneath the pines.

[The men begin to spread the blankets and another to make coffee.

Winth. Have you a picket out?

Evans. Yes, down on the river bank. Shall we stop here to-night?

[It begins to snow very gently.

Snow! I'm glad we got into camp before night.

Hop. (rubs hands and looks towards the fire). And we'll have coffee soon. This reconnoitering ain't much to my taste.

[He turns to Winthrop. A noise (off Right).

[Enter soldier quickly.

Soldier. The enemy!

Winth. Where?

Soldier. There, across the river. Hark!

[The distant sound of horses galloping is heard.

Winth. Under cover! Load! Make ready!

[They all crouch behind bushes with guns in readiness. The horses' hoofs are plainly heard, and then the sound of voices singing "Spur On." The sound comes nearer, then the hoofs cease.

Winth. They're in the river. Ready! Aim! Fire!

[A volley of shots.

Hop. They're stopped—some down. Charge! Capture!

[Exit soldiers.

Evans. Watch the kid in baby blue.

[He rises higher than the others and fires. There's a feeble return of the fire (off Right).

Winth. (springs to his feet). God! No! Bev!

Hop. Down, man!

[Winthrop staggers; is about to fall; Hopkins catches him; eases him to the ground.

Where?

Winth. Here in the side.

[Hopkins presses his handkerchief to wound.

It was little Bev.

Hop. No; you are wounded.

Winth. I'm all right. See to the boy.

[Re-enter soldiers with four Confederate soldiers wounded. They place them on the blankets.

Hop. Come; look for the little boy who had the flag.

[He exits with two men.

A Wounded Soldier. Was little Stuart—killed?

Winth. (raising himself with an effort). I do not know.

The Soldier (barely able to speak). He joined us not a half hour ago—first venture in army—last one of boys—had the flag.

Winth. Are they coming?

Soldier (raising himself, painfully). Yes. Good God!

[He quickly hides his face on his arm.

[Enter Hopkins, bearing Bev's body in his arms. Bev wears the little blue uniform Fair made in Act I. There is a great blood stain over his heart. He is strangely young and childish looking—a faint smile on his lips. One of the soldiers is carrying a Confederate battle-flag, torn from its staff, very ragged and muddy.

Winth. (trying to rise). Dead!

Hop. Dead! (Looks down at Bev). Where?

Winth. Over there—on my coat. (Points to where his overcoat is lying under one of the trees, back to the right). Put the flag near him.

[The soldier does so, after they lay Bev's body gently down. Hopkins comes to Winthrop, lifts head, giving him water from a tin cup.

Winth. Give some to them.

[Indicates prisoners.

Soldier (in a broken, gasping voice). I reckon some one—told her by this time—few of them got away—passed by home. I'd rather be here, though—than to be the one to tell her. She'll come for him, I reckon.

[Hopkins begins to pace up and down at the back, looking anxiously off across the river.

Winth. She—will come—here.

Soldier. Young Stuart—never fought before—plucky young 'un, too. Would ride in front with flag—no keepin' him back. Might have saved him—bad.

Hop. (stops, gazing off across stream through the falling snow). She's coming.

Winth. The boat!

Hop. Yes.

Winth. Alone?

Hop. No, an old negro is with her; she has a white flag up. They are very near.

[The snow begins to fall more heavily. At the back an old boat comes slowly into view through the trees. Fair, dressed in her little black dress, stands in the bow, with a handkerchief tied on a long wooden staff. She is without her hat, her hair blowing about her face, her eyes straining through the thickly falling snow; she is deadly pale; she stands erect and very still. Old Cupid, also without his hat, is at the other end of the boat rowing. They move across stage from (Right) to (Left), disappearing (Left).

Hop. They are at the landing.

[All the men stand looking after the boat until it has disappeared.

Winth. Where are they now!

Hop. Coming up the bank.

[All the soldiers are looking off (Left). Enter Fair, holding the white flag on the staff, followed by Cupid.

Fair (stopping a short distance away). I have come to claim my dead!

[At the sound of her voice every man takes off his hat. They stand: some looking at her, some looking away.

Hop. (coming forward). He is here (she looks at him for a second as though in recognition, then her face is cold as before, her eyes shining). God!

[He turns away. She looks past him; sees Bev's body on the coat; goes quickly to him, dropping to his side, her arms around him.

Winth. (to Hopkins). Where—has she gone? It seems so dark.

Hop. I saw her swoop down like a mother bird to her young. (Winthrop tries to speak; his voice fails; he sinks limply back on the blanket). Steve! Only fainted. Ah! (he rises and goes slowly to Fair; when he speaks, his voice is very soft). Won't you speak to him. He may be dying?

[Fair has risen to her feet. She comes slowly forward. She sees Winthrop, and for a second a wild flash of joy crosses her face. She starts forward, but stops herself suddenly, her hands before her eyes. She stands for a moment, very white and quiet; when she speaks, her voice is low and very tired.

Fair. Better so! Better so!

[She turns once more to the body. Two soldiers come forward at a sign from Hopkins, but old Cupid steps before them.

Cupid. I ax yer pardon, sir, but dis hers my place. Ole Mistus done told me ter tek ker on him.

[He goes to the body and lays the flag over his arms, lifting Bev as though he were a child; his arms under him, his head against his breast. He starts slowly off (Left), followed by Fair, who walks as one in a dream. [They exit (Left).

It begins to snow more heavily. The men stand watching them. Slowly the old boat comes into view. This time Cupid is in the bow, trying to shield his burden from the storm. Fair stands at the other end, rowing. The snow grows thicker and thicker 'till, as the boat is nearly off, it is blotted from the sight. The soldiers stand with heads uncovered in the driving storm as

THE CURTAIN CREEPS SLOWLY DOWN.

THE END