I! J ¥ 3 P n 22 "Zi I I 3 4- P CO Cornell University Library The original of this book is in the Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924027215841 (! ' v,.i ■ / Ethiopian AND Comic Drama. .' Nothing so thorough and cojnplete in the way of Ethiopian and Comic Dramas haB ever beeu printed aw those that appear in the foUowiufi'list. Not only are the plots ex- • belleut.tbe characterri droU,;the incidents fuuuy. the luu^nage hiimuruus, but all tEe ^^ituatious, by-play, poHitioiis,' paiitbiuiniic busiuess, Bceuerv, and tricks are bo plainly put doWjU, ayd ulearJy explained that the merest novice coiild put anyof them on the stage. luolnded in this Catalogue are all the moat laughable' aud effective pieces of their kiud ever prodiiced. - -■ ' _ , JB®^ Any of the following n^la^'s sent, po8tg,ge free, on receipt of price— Fifteeti Cents eachl - ' , ' . ■ I , • , . ' ' ;8®= In ordering, please give correctly the title of each, piece wanted. ' ^*^'Tlie8e,PJayE require but otie scene, unless otherwise stated." ,The figures in the ' coliimus indicate ihe number .of characters— M. male; F.. Female. No. M.F. H\. Abseiit Miilded, Etb. fdrce 3 ' 1 7;^. Alrican iJox,Eth.'' burlesque, 2 sc. 6 . 107. A£i-icaunB Bhiebeiird.Eth. musical burlesque 6 2 113. Anibitiou, Irish tai'ce, 2 scenes.... 7 , 133. AWfal Plot (Au), Eth. farce 3 1 43. Baby Elephant, Eth. Bketch,-2 sc. 7 1 42. Bad Wbitikey,, Irish skfitqh ..3 1 T9. Barney's Courtship, Iiiish musical intei'lude. '. 1 1 40. Big Mistake, Ethiopian sketch. . 4 155. Blauk Brigands, musical buji-lesque 8 6., Black Chap from JVhitechapel, Ethiopian farce , 4 10. Black Chemist. Ethiopian sketch.. 3 ll! Black-Ey'dWillTam,Eth.sketch,2MC. 4 1 Ufi. Black Forrest (The). Eth. farce... 2 1 110 Black Magician, Eth. comicality . . 4 2 126JBlack Statue (The). Eth. farce... /. 4 2 127.' Blinks and Jinks, Etb. sketch.... 3 1 128. Bobohno, the Black Bandit, Etb. ' musical farce 2 2 120. Body iSnatchors (The), Eth._sketch I 2 scenes...: . 4 78. BipguB Indi^Ui Sketch, 4 scenes 5 2 89. Bogus' Talking Machine, Eth, farce 4- ■\ 24.' Bruised and Cured, Eth. Sketch.. 2 108. Charge of the Hash Brigade, comic ' Irish musical sketch 2 2 148 phtistma^ Eve in the Soyth, Eth. -farce.' 6 2 35. Coal Heav^V's Revenge, Eth. sketch 6 112. Ccpfihg Man, EtU. sketch, 2 scenes 3 1 41. Cremation. Eth. sketch, 2 scenes.. 8 1 144. CroT^ded Hotel (The)^ sketch 4 1 140. Cupid's Frolics, sketph 5 1 12. Daguerreotypes, Etb." sketch 3 53. D^mou and Pythias,Etti. burlesqufi 2,sceijes....> V 5 1 63 Darkey's Stratagem. Eth. sketch.. 3 1 1311 Darkdy Slee^ Walker, Eth. sketch. 3 1 124.'Deaf as a Post, Eth. sketch 2 111. Deeds of D^i'knesst Eth. e3?trava- gatiza ; . 6 1 139. Desperate Situation, farce 5 2 169i'Dodgiuig"tbe Police, farce 6 3 157." Doiu't Get Weary, musical sketch. 1 1 50. Draft, (The), Eth. sketch, 2 scenes. 6 ' 64. Dutchman's Ghest (The), sketch. . 4 1 , 95. Dutch -Tustipa, Dutch sketch 11 67. Editor's Troubles, farce 6 4. Eh ? Wiiat is it ? Eth. sketch 4 1 136. Election Day, Eth. farce, 2 scenes, 6 1 98. Elopement (The), farce, 3 scenes.. 4, 1 52. Excise Trials, Eth. sketch 10 1 25. Fellow that Looks like Me, Inter- lud'e..',, ■ l.|-.-;..V;r 2 1 N'o. ' M. : 88. First Night, Dutch farce 4 , '51. Fishemian's Luck, Eth. sketch... "2, 152. FnuiiuaCooper's Shop, Eth. sketch 6 - 106. Gambrinus, King of Lager Beer, Eth^ hurlesqijci, .2 scenes- 8 , 167. Gentlemen Qyou's Parade, Eiih. '\ music^-l sketch ' 3 83, German Emigrant, Dutch sketch., 2 77. Getting Square pu the Call Boy^ Eth.,aketch....'. .'. .' ^ 3 17. Ghost (The), Eth. sketch 2 58* Ghost in a Pawn Slioji, Eth. sketch 4 31. Glyceriue Oil, Eth. sketch, 2 sc... 3 20. Going for the Cup, Etb interlude* '4 82. Good Night's Rest, tsketch. '3 130. Go and G^t Tight. Eth. farce.. .... 6 86. Gripsack (The), sketch.- 3 70. puide to the Stage, Et^. sketch... 3 61. Happy Couple,, fdrce' u.„2 142. Happy Uncle 'Rufus, Eth. musical sketch,:....!...'.^.... ,. 1 23. Hard Times, -Eth. extravaganza... 5 il8. Helen's Funny Babies, Eth^bur- , lesque. 6 3, Hemmed In, Eth. sketch .v 3 48. High Jack, the Heeler, Eth. sketch- 6 68. Hippotheatron, aketlph. ,.j.. ^^ 9 150. Hpw to Pay the Rent, fai-Qp...' 6 71. In and Out, sketch ;. 2 123. IntelUgeuce Office, Eth. sketch.... 2 33. Jealous Husbdnd. Eth-. sketch....! 2 94, Julius the Snoozer, Etli. burlesqile 3 scenes * 6 103. Katrina's Little Game, Dutch act... 1 1. Last of the Moiiicans, Eth. sketch. 3 36. Laughing Gas, Eth. sketch 6 . 161. Limekiln Clnb in an Uproar (The),' Etb. f^rce.. ^ 18. Live lujnn, Eth. sketch, 4 scenes. 4 60. Lost Will (The), Eth. sketch..'.'. . . 4 87. Lucky Job. farce, 2 scenes' 3 90. Lunatic (The), Eth. farce . 3 109. Makings Hit, Eth.. farce, .2 sceufss. 4 19.' Malicious TrespassrEth. sketch .i. / 3 149. 'Meriky . Eth. larce : . ; : 3 151. Micky Free,' Irish sketch.. 5 , 96. Midnight lutrudei-. farce 6 ' 147. Manner's Shop. i^th. sketch .2 129. Moko Marionettes, Eth. ecceutri" cityj 2 scenes , ' .' , . 4 101. Molly Moriart^, , Irish musical ■ sketch..; , , 1 117. Motor BellowB, farce 4 158. Mif. Mikado, musical burlesque... 6 44. Musical Servant, Eth. sketch 3 8. Mutton Trial, Eth. sketch, 2 sc... 4 119. My Wife's Visitors, farce 6 BETWEEN TWO THORNS. AN ORIGINAL SCENE ON A STAIR-OASE. By FORBES HEERMANS, Aallm of^Dawn the Black Canon," "liove by Induction;' "In tie Fire-licjlit," "Too iTegaiives Make an Affirmative, etc., etc. TOOETHEB WITH A DESCBTPnON OB" THE COSTUMES — CAST OF THE CHABACTKRS — ^KN- TKAMCES AND EXITS — RELATIVE POSITIONS OP THE PBEFOKM- n^TiH OK XHE STAGE, AND THE WHOLB OF THE STAOS BUSINESS. ALL EIGHTS RESEEVED. Cornell University Library PN 6120.A5H452 Between two thorns : 3 1924 027 215 841 NEW TOEK: THE DE WITT PUBLISHINa HOUSE, No. 33 EosE Street. Copyright, 1892, by B. H. Bdsseh & Son. BETWEEN Tiro THORNS. Herbert.— Like the Rose and her Thorn. BETWEEN TWO THORNS. CHARACTERS. Hbbbert Bbierlt. Rose Bu)ssoh. Fbedebick Thosh. ( This scene requires no stage setting, as it is to be a3ed upon the stair-case of some house. The lights in the hall are turned very low; but a lamp burns on the landing above, and a lantern, -with a refledlor, illumines the group on the stairs. A rug or carpet of some bright color should be thrown on the steps to form a background for the adiors. An orchestra is heard at intervals, playihg very softly. Cos- tumes, evening dress. Time of representa- tion, twenty tninutes.) (^Rose and Fred are seen coming slowly down the stairs. Rose a little in advance. At the fifth step she pauses. ) Rose. — Let us sit here a moment, Fred; it's so crowded below. (^Sits on fifth step. ") Fred. — Good idea ! {^Sits on fourth step.) Deucedly warm to-night, isn't it ? 4 BETWEEN TWO THORNS. Rose (^astde, looking' yor some one in the hall belo'w). — I wonder if Herbert will be here to-night? (Aloud.) Eh ! Oh ! warm you said ! No, it doesn't seem so to me. Fred. — Oh, well, perhaps it isn't so very warm, you know, but — but there's an awful jam here, isn't there ? Rose. — Is there ? The house seems quite empty to me — [aside)^{or I don't see Herbert yet. Fred. — ^Well, no, there isn't a crowd, exacSly — only there's — there's merely an awful jam, you know. That's w^hat I meant. Rose {absently.) — Oh, yes, very likely you're right. Who are here, Fred.? Fred. — 'Pon my word I don't know. Lots of people. Can't begin to remember them all. The Browns and — • and the Walkers and the Smiths and the — the Aliens, and the — the What-you-call-'eras that live over there, you know — {points off indefinitely) — the whole family, by Jove! "And there's Sally Warner! She's looking in great form to-night — and — er — little What's-his-name, and oh ! well, I can't remember them all. Rose {laughing). — There are more people here than I thought. Shall we go down now .'' {Rise.s. ) Fred {rising). — Delighted, I'm sure. Oh, there's one more. I saw Herbert Brierly up-stairs just now. He doesn't often go to a dancing party, you know. Rose. — Herbert Brierly here ! {Aside, resuming seat.) I'm so glad he has come ! Fred {leaning against the 'rail). — But I say, Rose, aren't you going down .? I want this waltz. Rose. — No-o, don't let's go yet, Fred. It looks so awfully crowded down there. {Aside.) And Herbert might miss me, too. Fred {sitting on fourth step). — Yes, that's just what BETWEEN TWO THORNS. 5 I was going to say. It's much nicer here, you know, and — (^mysteriously) — there's something I want awfully to tell you, Rose. Rose (absent-mindedly). — Is there, indeed.' That's very nice, I'm sure. Fred. — Yes, I knew you'd think so. (A short pause ; Hose is thoughtful., Fred is embarrassed. ) Rose. — Come, Fred, if we are to sit here together you must amuse me. Fred. — Oh, well, you know, I'm sure I'm quite agree- able. Rose. — Oh, no, you're not, but you must try to be. (^Aside.) Why doesn't Herbert come? Fred. — Ha ! ha ! I say, you're awfully sharp and all that sort of thing, you know ; but it's— it's lucky for you, you know, that I — ^I don't talk back at you, you know. Rose. — No, you mustn't talk at me, but to me. Come, begin. (Aside.) I'll wait here for Herbert. Fred. — Oh, just as you say. Beastly weather, isn't it ? Rose. — Is it.? I thought it was rather fine. Fred. — Oh, no, always beastly weather about here, you know. Regular thing in the best society — abuse the weather ; because, you know, if it isn't beastly just now, it's — it's going to be. Rose. — Oh, indeed ! Did he — I mean, are you sure you saw Mr. Brierly up-stairs, or — or down-stairs ? Fred. — Oh, up-stairs ! He asked me if you w^ere here to-night, and I said Rose (^eagerly). — That I was.? Fred. — No, by Jove ! I said I thought you weren't coming. Ha ! ha ! Rose (^angrily). — Fred ! How dared you? 6 BETWEEN TWO THORNS. Fred. — Well, I wanted a chance to talk to you myself, without his hanging around, trying to be funny. Because Rose, I — I have something — to say to you — :to-night. Rose. — That's nice. Why aren't you dancing.? Fred. — I'm giving up dancing. I don't think it's what • you'd call a — a very intelledlual occupation, you know ; and eveiybody's going in for intellecSual things, nowadays. Rose (laughing). — It ought to be intelledlual enough — for you, Fred. Fred. — Oh, I say now. Rose ! That's too — too — oh, look there ! (He bows to some one helow, and mur- murs .■) How-de-do ! How-de-do ! ( To Rose, confi- dentially.) That's little What's-his-name, you know; the one over there without any hair on his head. See 'i Great brain ! He's what I call a genius. Yes sir, by Jove! He'd beat the dayvil ! See him? (He joints downward. ) Rose (looking uf). — No, I don't see him. (^Aside.) Where can he be .? Fred, — Oh, well, I guess you nevef will if you look for him among the angels. He's down below. Ha ! ha ! Awfully original fellow. Rose (interested) . — Is he? Tell ffle about him, Fred, — ^Yes, awfully original. He told a story at the club the other night that struck me as being about the best, by Jove ! It only shows, though. He was speaking about old — old Mr. Thingumbob — the one who is some- thing or other in the city, and awfully rich, you know. Well, little What's-his-name went to see him about some- thing, I've forgotten what, but it doesn't matter anyway, and — and he said to him — ^but p'rhaps you've heard this before ? Rose (absently). — Eh! Oh, no, no, never. BBTWkEN TWO THORNS. 7 Fred. — Sure? Rose. — ^Yes, quite. Fred. — ^Well, you must stop me if you have. Let's see, where was I.? Oh, yes! Well, little What' s-his- name went to see him about — about — well, it doesn't mat- ter about what — and found him in — no, found him out., I think. Let me see, which was it .'' Oh, well, that doesn't aftedt the story, anyhow. So what does little What's-his- name do, sir, but just say to .him — ha ! ha ! — in so many words — but are . you sure you haven't heard this before 'i Rose. — Eh! What! Before.? Oh, no, never! It's quite new to me, and — and very interesting. Fred. — ^Yes, isn't it.? Well, he said to him — that is, little What's-his-name said to old Thingumbob, you know, that — that — dear me ! it's very odd I can't remember just what he said. Still, I don't know that it matters very much if — if — ^you see the point. Eh, do you } Ha ! ha ! Good, isn't it.? Eh.? Rose (laughing). — Oh, yes ; capital! Fred. — Yes, yes, that's just what I think. Of course I can't begin to tell it the way little What's-his-name did ; but if you get the point of the story, that's the main thing. Rose. — Oh, yes, of course ; that's the main thing, and it's very amusing. {^AsideS) It's very strange Herbert does not^ppear. {Aloud.) Are you sure you saw him up-stairs .? Fred. — No, down-stairs ! Rose (rising) . — Then why did you say up-stairs just now? Fred. — But I never did. Rose (impatiently) . — Fred, you did say you saw Mr. Brierly up-stairs ! Fred (disgusted) . — Oh, Brierly ! Yes, he's up-stairs 8 BETWEEN TWO THORNS. fast enough, but I wasn't talking about him. Little What's-his-name, I meant. Rose (resuming seat) . — Oh, yes, of course, of course. How stupid ! Fred {indignantly') . — Why, no, he isn't stupid ! He's dayvilish bright, by Jove ! Rose {sharfly) . — Fred, sit still and talk to me. Fred. — That's just what I want to do. ( While he is saying what folloivs Rose fays no 'attention, but looks upstairs as if exfeSling some one.) Rose, there is some- thing I want to tell you to-night awfully. I've been trying all— all the evening to— to tell you, but somehow I — I haven't got around to it. It is the old, old story of Rose {rousing herself) . — Eh! I beg pardon! What is it.? Fred (sentimentally). — I say Rose, that it is the old, old story Rose (laughing) . — Oh, that's very likely, Fred. All your stories are old. Fred (sadly). — Ah, Rose, how can you make sport of a broken heart .? {He endeavors to take her hand ; she objects.) Rose. — Broken fiddlesticks ! Fred. — No, no, Rose, not that. Do you not, Rose^ that is, can you not. Rose, ^— I mean, will you nbt, Rose ■ — I would say, are we — ^we not fitted for one another like —like {Herbert cotnes down stairs; pauses on seventh step.) Herbert (interrupting). — Like the Rose and her Thorn .? Fred {aside). — Confound him ! Why can't he keep away.? BETWEEN TWO THORNS. 9 Rose {joyfully). — Ah, Mr. Brierly! I'm so glad to see you. {Aside. to Herber.i). Yes, but it's not a very sharp thorn. Herbert {aside to Rose) . Too green to be danger- ous, perhaps.' {Herbert and Rose laugh.) Fred {aside). — I hate him ! Rose {addressing Herbert). — But why do you stand there .? Herbert. — I was wondering how I should pass the Styx — the river Styx, I mean. Rose. — And get into the Hades below.? Why not «top where you are — on high Olympus .? Herbert. — ^With infinite pleasure — if I may sit by Minerva 1 Fred {aside) . — I wonder if he thinks he is clever .? Rose. — I can't promise you that ; but you may sit here till Minerva comes. Herbert {sitting on sixth step). — ^Minei^va is here. "This is the place I long have sought." Do you know I feel particularly self-satisfied, now.? Rose. — Do you.? Why.? Herbert. — Because for the first time in my life I am able to look down upon you. Rose. — Do you mean physically or intelledlually .? Herbert. Only physically. Intelledlually I'm on the lowest step. Fred. — Ah, I should say in the cellar, by Jove I {Aside.) That was one for me. Herbert {aside to Rose). — The wildest imagination cannot locate the seat of his intelligence. {Aloud.) Ah, Fred ! You there ? Fred. — ^Yes, are you.? {Herbert talks to Rose in pantomime.) 10 BETWEEN TWO THORNS. Fred {aside) . — Deuce take it ! She won't talk to me now he's here ! {Aloud. ) Rose ! I say, Rose ! Rose. — Well, what is it? Fred {aside). — ^What was I going to say? Oh, I know! {Aloud.) Are you going to take part in this play they're getting up ? Rose. — No, I'm not. Are you, Mr. Brierly? Herbert. — No. Unfortunately I have no talent aa an a(5tor. Fred. — Oh, well, I daresay you might do. They're taking in some awful scrubs. Herbert. — Then you're in it, of course ? Fred. — I ! I should rather think not ! They wanted me to take a part — er — it was — well, I've forgotten now, but he was a regular fool, you know, but I said no, slap off. I can't adl a part like that, you know. Herbert. — No, very likely you can't a£l it, but you might do it, very well. Fred. — I don't understand you. Herbert {dryly). — I'm not surprised ?t that. Fred {angrily) . — 'Pon my word, you — you're becom- ing very funny 1 Herbert {aside to Pose) . — I must be if he can see it. Rose {aside). — They'll be quarreling in a moment at this rate. I mustn't let them. {Aloud.) Isn't this a delightful party ? Herbert and Fred {together). — 'Very! Herbert. — Still, I must say it seems to me that the noise and heat and confusion, and the people — some of them — are drawbacks. Don't you think so? Rose. — Oh, yes, decidedly ! BETWEEN TWO THORNS. II Fred. — Oh, I say ! Do you mean that you don't like the music and the flowers, and — and the pretty girls, and the dresses, and — and the supper ? They're going to have a terribly nice supper, to-night. By Jove ! you ought to be awfully fond of it all, you know. Rose. — Oh, yes, and so I am ! Feed {aside). — I think I scored off him that time. I'll show him what conversation is! (A/oud.) Still, you know, it's awfully hard work, too, sometimes. A ' fellow's got to dance with a lot of girls he don't care about, you know, just because he happens to be a good dancer. It is awfully trying. Herbert. Ah, that's one of the penalties of greatness. JSToblesse oblige. Fred {angrily). — See here, by Jove ! I dare say you consider yourself Herbert {interrupting) . — Oh, yes, but I try to con- sider others first. Some others, I mean. Rose {aside). — Oh, dear! tlrey're quarreling again! {Aloud, dropping her fan.) My fan, Fred. Fred {sulkily). — Yes, I see it. Rose {impatiently) . — I wish it. Fred {looking at it) . — Hum ! You'll have to wish harder than that, then. It hasn't moved yet. Whistle for it and see if that will bring it. Rose {haughtily). — Hand me my fan ! Fred. — Why didn't you say so at first? {He hands it to her and then stands leaning against the rail. ) Herbert. — She paid you the compliment of mistaking you for a gentleman. Fred {bitterly^. — Oh, indeed! Well, no one will ever make that mistake about yoii ! 12 BETWEEN TWO THORNS. Herbert. — Thanks ! You mean because I am a gen- tleman? That compliment, even from you, has some value. Rose (aside). — Oh, dear! Quarreling again! {Aloud.) Pray don't talk like this ! You don't know howr you distress me. Fred. — Oh, well, you needn't worry, Rose. I don't mind when a fellow^ thinks he's funny. I just say to my- self that there's a mighty good answer to everything he says, somewhere, if I only had time to think of it. Herbert. — Exaftly ! The difficulty in your case must be — to think of it. RoSE.^Hush ! That will do ! Fred, I wish you'd run up-stairs and get my bonbonierre'i Fred {sulkily) . — Don't know where it is. Rose. — It ought to be in the inside pocket of my cloak. Fred. — Don't know where your cloak is. Rose. — Oh, the maid will find it for you. Fred. — Why don't you send Herbert.? He's nearest. Herbert. — Yes, let me go. Rose {hastily). — No, no, you never can find it in the world. Please, Fred.' Fred. — Well, I'll go — for you. Rose. Herbert {aside). — And for me, too. Rose. — Oh, thank you ! {Fred goes up four steps^ then turns.) Fred {aside) . — Confound him ! I'll pay him for this ! {Disappears up.) Rose {offering Herbert her bonbonierre. ) — Will you try one .'' Herbert. — Thanks! {Laughs.) Do you know, I am afraid Fred won't find this in the inside pocket of your cloak. BETWEEN TWO THORNS. 13 Rose {laughing). — No, not unless he looks — very carefully. In fadt, he can't find it without an interposition of providence. Herbert. — ^And I don't intend to let — providence — out of my sight. {Sits on fourth step.) I can't tell you how delighted I am to see you to-night, Miss Rose. Rose. — The pleasure is mutual, I'm sure. But have y6u any particular reason } Herbert. — Yes, a veiy particular reason. I wish to — to confess my sins. Rose {laughing). — Oh, no, don't do that. There isn't time, now. But you might confess your — virtues. Herbert. — If you are going to restridl me to my vir- tues, I'm afraid I shall have to be silent. Rose. — ^What ! Have you not even one little virtue.? Herbert. — Yes, I have one — just one. May I tell it you. Rose .'' Perhaps it is not Rose {offering bonbonierre) . — Have another .■' Herbert. — Thank you ! But may I tell you my one virtue .? Fred {suddenly appearing above). — See here, Rose, I can't find that thing ! Herbert {aside). — Confound him ! Rose {aside, hiding bonbonierre). — Oh, dear! Why can't he stay away? {Aloud.) Did you look in the in- side pocket, Fred .' Fred. — There isn't any inside pocket. Rose {aside). — So there isn't! What a blow! {Aloud.) Well, look in the outside pocket, then. Fred. — Suppose 'tisn't there 'i Rose. — Then look somewhere else. Hurry, for I want it. U BETWEEN TWO THORNS. Fred {aside.') — Takes me for her confounded maid, by Jove ! {Disappears up.) Rose {offering her bonbonihrre) . — What were you saying ? Herbert. — Can you not guess my meaning? Rose {hesitatingly) . — No-o, I never could guess any- thing. Herbert {earnestly) . — Not when I say that I came here to-night only to be near you .'' {Rose shakes her head.) Not when I say, Rose dear, that you are the only Fred {appearing above and interrupting) . — It isn't there, Rose ! Rose {startled). — Oh, dear! {Hastily.) But it must be there ! Look again, and — and don't come back without it. Fred {aside, mournfully). — Then I'd better make an end to a dissipated career at once. {Disappears up.) Rose.— You were saying } Herbert. — I was saying. Rose dear, that — I love you ! RosE.-.-Oh, Herbert ! It isn't right ! Herbert. — Yes, I'm afraid it is wicked to be in love — ^because it is so very pleasant. But, Rose deai'est, will you not tell me you love me — just a little } Rose {agitated) . — I — I don't know — what to say ! Herbert. — Say nothing dear, but look me in the face. ( She looks at him a moment ; then turns away and hides her head in confusion. ) Herbert {slowly) . — Have I been mistaken, then .'' I am sorry. Good-bye ! {He rises as if to descend ; Hose seizes his arm, and pulls him back. He sits on the fifth step with her). BET WHEN Two THORNS. 15 Herbert {etnbracing her) . — Rose, I was mistaken! Rose {demurely). — Yes, partly. Herbert. — And you do love me, after all.? Rose Ye-es, if you insist on knowing.? Herbert. — If I insist ! {Kisses her hand). Rose {demurely) . — There, that will do. Now tell me about your sins ? Herbert. — Oh, I haven't any sins now. Since you love me I am absolved. Rose. — Tell me about your one virtue, then.? Herbert. — Faith, I will ! 'Tis this : I love you. Rose {archly) . — Is that a virtue ? But come, Herbert, dear, let us go down. We shall be missed if we stay here any longer. ( They rise and descend two steps, and stand there in lover-like attitudes. Fred suddenly ap- pears, coTning down the stairs.) Fred. — I can't find that beastly box ! ( Sees Herbert and Rose.) W-what does that mean .? {Pauses.) Herbert. — Shall we tell them we are engaged. Rose ? Fred. — Engaged ! I'm going home ! {Disappears hurriedly upstairs.) Rose. — No, we'll let them find it out for themselves. ( They descend to the hall and mingle -wiih the others on the Jloor.) Curtain^ "mm 30IS -ViriTT'S -Ethiopian and Comic DRAMA.^Continued. -«- No. i9. 132. 153. Jiis. 22, 27. 125. 80. 76. 91. 87.^ 135. 92. 9. 57. 65. 66. 115, 14. 105. 55. ' 81. 26. 138.' 16. 59. 21. 16Q, 89. V 84. J. . ■ ' ' M.F. Nit^ht in a Strange Hotel, Sthiopiau sjielcta ■: ■ ■ . : 2 ■Noble S!(,vage, EtJi. sketoU .,,4 1 Noi-ah's Good Bye, Irish musical slietcli ; 2 1 No Pay No Cure, EtU. sketch 5 Otjeying Orders. £th. 'sketclx 2 1 lOOtUiSight Qf Hauilet, Eth. sketch 7 1 Oh, Hushl operatic olio, 3 scenes. 4 1 One Nigfit'lu a Bar-Bdom, Eth. sketch 1 ..; 7 Oue Night iu a Medical ' College, Eth. sketch 7 1 One, Two, Three, Eth. Kketch 7 Painter's Apprentice, Eth. farce. . . 5 Pete and the Peddler, Eth. and- Irish sketch v... 2 1 Pleiisant Compauioue, Eth. sketch. 5 1 Polar Bear, Eth, farce 4 1 Policy Players. Eth. sketch 7 Pou^ey'B Patients, Eth. interlude, 2 scenes 6 Porter's Tccfubles, sketch j . . . 6 1 Port Winp vs. Jealousy, sketch... 2 1 Private Boarding, farce 8 3 Recruiting OMce. Eth. sketch < 6 Rehearsal (The), Irish farce, 2 sc. 4 2 Remittance from Home, Ethiopian sketch 6 Rigging a Purchase, Eth. gketcb.. 3 Rival Artists. EtU. Isket^th. 4 Rival Tenants, Eth.' sketch' 4 , Ml val Barbers' Shops, Etii: farce.. 6 1 Sam's Courtship, Eth. farce 2 1 Sausage Makers, Eth. sketch, 2 sc, 5 1 Scampiui, pautomime, 2 sceues. . 6 3 'Scenes iuFrou t of a Clothing Store, farce„ ; 7 1 .Scenes on the Mississippi, Eth. .sketch, 2 eceues 6 Serenade nal actors atid mauagera are forbidden, uud^ penalty of the law, to juake use of it. or auy part of it, without firtst prociirjug the writteu couseut of th^" author, addivusiug hioi iu care of the pubhuheris DOWN THE BLACK CAMN ; OR, THE SILEIT WITNESS. A DRAMA OF THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS. IN FOUE ACTS. By FORBES HEERMANS, AUTHOB OF " Zaveis InAutivn," "Beiuiem Two Thomtt" " Two Negatives Hake an Affirmative," •• Lme's Warrant," " In the Fireligitt," etc., etc. TOOETHKB WITH A JJKBCBIPTION OF THE COSTCMES— CAST OF THE CHABACTKKS— BH- TKANCES AND EXITS — lUlLATIVB POSITIONS OF THE PERFOBM- EBS ON THE STAGE, AND THE WHOLE OF THE STAGB BUSmESS. AUTHOR'S EDITION.— ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. NEW YORK : THE DE WITT PUBLISHING HOUSE, No. 33 RosB Street. CSopyrlght, 1890, b; B. H. Busbeu, & Soh. . ^ DOWN THE BLACK CANON. CHAKACTEBS. fans Andbewb, a young mining engineer. Hehbit Abuoub, a mine owner. BiBAU Spbiqos, a Bocky Mountain poet. . BCFnsSTOini,-aeamblef: .., Thomas Dalton, a prospector. Fbank Thobnb, leader of tbe Vigilantes. ^slienff of San Juan county. JiuMiE, the sileuji witness. H0OH-THOMF8OK, foreman of the jury. Biu. Stevens, a miner. BcTH Abmodb. daughter of Henry Armour. Eatu Abmoub. sitjter of Ruth. MiNEUVA JoBBON. ;i (IJBconBOlate widow, who later becomes Mrs. Hiram Spriggs. Miners, members of the Vigilance Committee, jury, deputy sheriffs, etc. TIME — ^The present day. An interval of a few hours is supposed to elapsQ be- tween the first and second actfl; of nearly a year between the second and third acts; and of six or eight hours between the third and fourth acts. TIME IN PLAYING— TWO HOURS. SCENERY. ACT I. — Slimmer twilight scene in San Juan Mountains, Colorado, on flat at back. Rock and tree wiiiifH; set log cottage L. 2 E. and i.. 3 E., with practicable door and window opening on stage; hole in log about thi'ee feet from floor, near corner, in end of cottage toward audience; set rock, or large boulder, and bushes, as indicated in diagram; .rustic settee and chairs in front of cottage; set bush at end of cottage, I,. 2 E. ; also b. o. • Plat. » Bush. * Bush. B. 3 E. 1^1 •Bush, Chairs. ; Settee. I I Cottage, •nock. Hole. * Bush. h. IE. P O ooopooooooooooo , DOWN. THE BLACK OANON. 3 ACT II.— Wglit iiceue. Moiinmeiit Book in the Black Canon, tip flat at back; rockH tbat euu be scaled extcuiliu^ across stage nt4tb. grooves; rock and trc)e wings; frcm hbb rocknor tree, n. 2 b., in snspeuded a rope with uoose, opposite end of rope t(>«xtend across to i,, 2 b. ; rongU seats R. 1 £. for Thorue, and up o. for jury. '>-• - Flat B. IT. B. •' ~ ■;.''' I.. U. E. ' ' B. 3 B. Bocks. •Tree, *»«**« E. 1 E. * Seat. '1 ii. 1 E. O O O O O O^O OOOOOOOOOO -ACT HI.— Morning scene. The montli of the " Little RntU " mine, the Shaft be- ing a pmcticablu trap through stage floor, over which stands a derrick with windlass, ropes, tiud largb ore-bucket, well up 0.; engine house ij. 2 e.; dump heap L. 3 E.; pile of powder-kegs, iKtxes, etc., B. tt. k. ; wheelbarrows, shovels, picks, and other ininitig paraphernalia scattered about month of shaft. Mountain scene on flat at back. Flat. 00 ooKegB, Dump ^2 heap. ^^ Trap and Derrick. Eugiiie ; , . , ,. : HouBe . BarrowB. etc. o o oooooooooooooo o ACT IV.— Evening scene. Plain room in house occupied by -Mb. and- Mbs. Sfbigos and BijTP and Eatb Abmoub. Boom is rather scantily furuishetl, with a , few chaii's and a table b. o.; stove L., wellworu carpet down, and is dimly lighted; door in flat c. an^ at n^2 E.; window in flat, l. u., through which can be seen a rock on the verge of the Black Canon, and indications of approaching storm, with occa- Bional thunder and lightning, which increases as the act proceeds. COSTUMKS. Henbt Abhobb.— Old man, about sixty; gray fnll beard; decently dressed In gi^ay or blue bnsiness suit; white sombrero. Is pompous and iiTitable. John Anhbkts. — The hero. Handsome, .stalwart; aged about thirty;, well clad in miner's dress, flannel shirt, dark tronsers. big boots, big hat, and pistol-belt during Acts I. and II. In Act III. he is very handsomely dressed in Colorado 4 DOWN THE BLACK OANON- . style, but is disguised by^oaid, etc. Act IV., Same as Act III., except that right arm should, be in a bliug. HiBAM Spkiqgs.— Ecceutric old mau; aged-aboui Hfty; dreBsed shaW^y- genteel iu all acts; well-woru frock coat, dirty l*vender- colored tightly-fittiu;? trouBei-s, gloves without fiugers, shcee broken, hair aud beard long and disordered. He is not a sot, aud is not tanuike up as finch. He is uiei-cnrial.HjhaugeB quirqkly from despondency to joy, aud back again.' He is "incouaeeutive,'' fnll of odd manueriams, impracticable, quotes poetry, sings a line of a i*oug, and is sad and merry by tmnis. ^ . ■ ■ - ,..;..... . RUFUB Stonb.— The yilTain; about forty five years of age; heavy-featured, strongly- built, black-browed man; deep voice. Dressed in loud suit of chebfe; big ring on finger, dii|mohds, big white sombi'ero, pistol, et<3^ He ie & coarse-^ sianuered, swaggering fellow, a coward and a bully. Thomas Dalton. — liifay be pla/yed as an Irishman. Impulsive, warm-hearted, frank, and merry. Dreased in miner's garb, big hat, flamiel 8hii% high boota, tlironghont the play. Carries pistol in all four acts. < ^AANE Thobhe.— Leader of the Vigilantes. Man about fifty, gray-beanled, large, impresB^ve manner; dressed in miner's garb. Jim IVIosiEiB.— Slievlff of San Jtlau bounty, Colorado. Usual Western dress; fianuel shirt, coat, trousers worn inside of long boots, big hat, spurSj pistol. Solomon Goldstein^ — 'By the same actor as above. Dressed in " loud V clothes; a ^ heavy black beard, ihuch jewelry, false nose, strong German acc^t. . He mttst make a quick change to Mosier. N. B. — This part may be dou@ as a Spaniard, if preferred. JiMMiK. — The silent witness. A deaf and dumb boy, aged abont eight or ten.y«ars. In Acta I. and II, he must appear in i-agged clothes; has a pinche^, starved appearance, and a half-idioiic ihahiier. All this to be in strong conti-ast \nth / Acts III. and IV., when he is well dressed, clean, aud appears bi-ight, happy, ' aud intelligent. He is very quick iu his gestures, aud should kuawthe dcdf-r mute manual perfectly, as he expresses himself entirely in pantomime. Care oust be taken £o use this manual accurately, for there will geuerall^^ be some one in the audience who will detect any mistake. Hugh Thompson.— Foreman of the jniy. A heavy, black-bearded niaii of forty years. Dressed in flannel shirt, coat and trousers of dark stuff, Ini.'i; bouts, big hat, pistol in belt. Bill Stevens.— A miner. Dressed in miner's garb; suit of bine jeans, much s6ili-d with mud; miner's hat, with a caudle or lamp stuck iu the peak bf it;'U>iig boots, KuTH. Abmodb.— The heroine. Age about twent>--one years; handsome, woniauly, tender, btit biiive and self-reliant. Di^essed quietly in a costume of grny in Acts L and n., wearing gniall sombrei'o on her head; in Act lY. site wears black. Kate Abmoub.— Knth's younger sister. Ingenttn part. Gay, rollicking, coquettisli, hut warm-hearted and aympathftic. Dress. Acts I. aud n,, of light l)r(»\^^^ material; hair worn loose down her back; a big white sombrero tied "U bv a strap under chin; rather short skirts, leather or canvas leggius, andVbiuit her 'vaiat is buckled a cartridge belt with pistol. Act IV., a quiet dress oi black; dark felt hat on. "^ Mrs. Spkiqgs.— Eccentric old wbraan. To appear abont fifty years old; rather ston* and red-faced, A dress of some bright color; v(M-y largo bonnet, plaid slinwl. Miners, members of Vigilance Committee, jury, deputy sheriffs, etc. — All dl'es^^■»^ 111 chai^cteristic Westeru style, same art AndreAVR and ntliers. /br Properties, Si/hnpsu^ etc., s?e last p"ge. DO¥I THE BLiCK GASM. ACT L ;SCENE. — Tifte exlerUir of Henry Armour's cottage. C'tirtaiii rises, discovering Mrs. Jobson sealed in chair in front of the cuiagc, busily knitUng. Mi;?- ^ttBaoM. It!s a sa,d, sad world we're living in this day, and no mistake; without rest or refreshment fi-om mom till night and from night , till mprning, tilings bein^ that contrary ! It's dreadful wearin' on me, a poor lone creetur, "wdm to skin and bone, and my poor Jobson dead and buried these fifteen years. Ah, it's a sad cold world we're livin' in ! ' {sthgs muunifiiUy) Oh, fire and brimstone is our doom ! WeoWy live to die; And welcome all the mournful tomb, And hope that death is nigh. Enter Ruth, from cottage. Rnrrr. It » strange that my father is so late, Mrs. Jobson. Mks. J. A bad sign. Miss Euth, a very bad sign; not to speak of the •worrit of supper's bein' late; a very bad sign, dearie. ; Ruth (langlUmj). Nonsense, Mrs. Jobson ; you're getting low-spirited again. ' Mus. J. No, dearie, not getting so; I'm thankfijl to say I'm always low-spirited. , ' Ruth. Yes, I think you are. Come, cheer up. I'll stroll down the road a little way and meet feither.- Some business must have detained him. ' [Grosses K. and exit, R. 1 is. . Mrs. J. Something's goin' to happen — something dreadful and con^ trary; for I heard a coyote howl three times last night; and tha,t alWays means ioBjething when the moon is full, though what, no one can tell till it comes. Well, well, the worst will be welcome, (sings) dh, fire and brimstone ia our doom I We only live to die; SpitroGS {offR., sings iii a rollicking voiQe). And welcome all the mournful tomb, And hopeithat death is nigh. Enter Sprigos, r. v. b. Ha, ha! I'm here at last. Whew! It's warm — devilish warm ! 6 - DOWN THE BLACK CANON. Mus. J. (flrssVfe). Good gracious ! It's Mr. Spriggs-! , SpBiGGS. 'Tis, oh 'tis the cottage of my love ! Prithee; gentle lad}', canst thou tell whither must I go to Und the fairy dell? Say, canst thou ? {liiisinesn.) % ' . Mrs. J. La, Mr: Spriggs ! How you do go on! You're really^quite supererlicns. (Si'RiGG3?/ro«)i.«) What's the matter? _ Si'uioGs. A passing weakness. I fear I am but mortal. How craelly sweet are the eclioes that start, when memory plays an old tune on the heart. Art-well^ gentle zephyr? Mrs. J. Only middlin', thank you, Mr. Spriggs. How's yourself ? ^.Si'RiGGS. Oh, weary, weary, weary. O'erwhelmed by the rushing torrent of my thoughts, and all that sort of thing. Mrs. J. You're so amusing ! , Spriggs. Amusing ? Never ! Behold a crushed and blighted being. Of all the pains, the greatest pain itis to love and love in vain. Mits. J. I declare, Mr. Spriggs, I never see you but I want to laugh. Spriggs. Ye gods ! Has it come to this ? Am I a lean and slippered pantaloon — a cap and bells, by Jove! Minerva, behold thy slave t ' {hiieelx) Bid me arise thy lover, or I will kneel forever, (aside) Gad, 1. hope she'll hurry; this position is awkward. 1 Mrs. J. {(/ri>j)pi.ii!j knitiin;/). Lor', I don't Jmow what to do. Spriogs. Tell nie I love not in vain. Be mine, be mine, be mine, and all that sort of thing. Will you, say ? {rises and attempts to embrace^ her.) , Mrs. J. No, Mr. Spriggs, no. I must know your intentions first, I'm only a pore widder. Spriggs. A. widow ! Then I am perhaps justified in supposing that Jobson is — er — defunct — "^one to that country from whose "bourne no -traveller returns," eh ? ■ Mrs. J. {with asperity). Didn't I say I was a widder? Spriggs. You did, my gazelle, you did. But there are many kinds of widows; grass widows, and hay widows, and— er— straw widows. ^ It's merely a detail, I know, but are yoa a real widow, or only in the ^incipient stages of curing ? Mrs. J. Cinit/i digiii/i/). 1 beg to inform you, Mr. Spriggs, that my late husband, Mr. Elisha Jobson, Esquire, has been burled fifteen years next fall. Spriggs. Buried? Exactly; but is he dead? It's merely a detail, but is— he—dead ? Ha, ha ! Is he ? Mrs. J. {havghtihi). He is — quite. Spriggs, Happy Jobson I I— I mean, poor Jobson, to have to die and leave his Minerva. Angels were made fair to look like thee. Speak, lovely creature, speak; canst thou love me? Ha, hai Oanst thou ? Mr.s. J. It do seem, Mr. Spriggs, as if I never could forget my poor dear husban' entirely, at times. Spriggs. I don't ask you to forget him; only don't remember him in- conveniently. Oomparisonp are odorous. You may break, you may shatter tlie vase, if you will, but the mem'ry of Jobson will hang round It still. " Mrs. J. Oh, you are so supercilious, {weeps.) Sphigos (aside). Ha ! She weeps ! At last she is mine— I think. (sloivlii imtlinri his arm nbont her) Minerva, dry those tears; those lovely eyes should Hot be dimmed or dashed with care, nor should love's —rumty-dumty sighs, t«-tum, te-tum, whoever dare. DOWN THE BLACK CANON. -- 7 Mrs. J. Oh dearl {rests k&i- head on /il&s/toulder andsi(f/is.) SpRioGS. Exactly. WUl you therefore, Minerva, exchange Jobson — Phoebns, what a name i^for Sprigf^ ! It's only 9, detail; but will you ? Miis. J. Don't ask me, Hiram. I'm all in a flutter; ^ngs are going round and round. Spkigos. You are bilious, my angeK Kemind me of that later and I'll give you something for it. And so, sweet rosebud, you will I)e mine, won't you-? - ' Mks. J. Well, then, yes I will, Hiram. Si'RiGos (stiirti seieral times to kiss her, and hesitates — riside). When in doubt, take the trick, (kisses her.) Egad, she is mine ! (atojerf) Ah, Minerva, what lovely odes and sonnets and what-you-may-call-ems I will Hovv inscribe to you! Something like this: Goddess of reason, of knowledge, of power, Hail to thee, hail to thee, tumty ! .. Smile on our union, te-tumty, tuin-t<5?ver. And come to my arms with a-lumty, {they embrace,) ' Mrs. J. But how are_we going to live, Hiram ? Have you money ? Sprigus {tfr^niiiiij OnckX How shall we live ? Money ! Lucre ! Don't -bother' me with details, (embraces /ler again) How should I know how we're going to live ? Mrs. J. But can you support me, Hiram ? Spriggs. It looks as if I were supporting you now, doesn't it? (they sep'irat:) Mrs. J. But can you buy the necessaries of life, Hiram ? Spriggs. Of course I can. Ha, ha ! I should think so — {aside) or borrow 'em. Mrs. J. But how ? Spriggs. JEh ! How ? Mrs. J. Yes, how? Srriggs. Er-didyousay how, Minerva? Mrs. J. {rmpntieiillfi). Yes. yes— iAou).'' ' Spriggs. Oh, anyhow. Don't bother me with a lot of details. When, you want anything, just go and get it — have it charged. Mrs. J. But what is your occupation, Hiram ? • Spriggs. I am a poet. I write songs, sonnets, lyrics, odea, satires, epics, and everything that makes home happy and life one long, sweet dream. See? , - Mrs. J. No, I don't. Spriggs. Weil, suppose, for the illustration, that you should be cut down by the grim reaper, death, {aside) Happy hgure, that — ^grass widow, cut down by death's scythe — must make a note of it. {takes out note book Olid writes, (hen aloud) Yf%\\, as I was saying-r-by the grim reaper, death; it would give me great pleasur e . VLv.s. 3. {indignantly'). Svc\ Mr. Spnggs ! Spriggs {drawing near again). A melancholy consolation, I mean, to write the epit^h to be engraved upon your tombstone, pleasantly loca- tedjn an agreeable buthighly inaccessible corner of the shadowy vale. ' Mr.«i. J. But does writing poetry pay, Hiram ? Spriggs. Well, no, I can't say that it is a lucrative profession;. but it'is inoffensive, and highly genteel. Enter Ruth, b. 1 e. As Spriggs is about to kiss Mrs. Jobson, Kuth laughs. Both start. Ruth. What is itr-a new game ? Ha, ha ! 8 DOWN THE BLACK CANON. SpniGGS. Ha! Discovered! Foiled ! (/70jX'7 »?•) Meet me by moon- liglit-alone, sweet i)ne, and then I Will tell you a tale must be told in the mdonlight alone, my own, in the grove at the end of the vale. Adieu, adieu, and in thine orisons be all my sins remembered. Tarta ! ta-ta ! [JUxit, B. 3 E., kissiHg his lutnO. . Ruth (advancing ton., laughing), fehe always as affectionate as that, Mrs. Jobson? Mes J. Well, no. Miss Ruth, not generally; but we was discussln' my late 'usban', Mr. Jobson. Enter Jimmie, I., v. E. He seats himself tip t. Ruth {lauc/hing). I see; and Mr. Spriggs was endeavoring to console yoH. (sees Jimmie) Ah, there is that poor little dumb boy again. Won't . you go into the house and get him something to eat, Mrs. Jobson ? - Mrs. J. Indeed I will. It makes my heart ache just to look at the child, (goes into cottage.) Ruth. Poor boy 1 I wish I could do something for him. They say he is frightfully abused by the man he lives with, (ffoes to him ; boy is alaiineil ; she talks,' gestures, and strokes his hair tosooilie hinrC) There, there, don't be frightened; yon are safe. (6oy svii/es) Poor child ! Can anything be more pitiful than the late of this poor boy, deaf and dumb, neglected, ignorant, and without a kind hand in the world to help him ? Enter Mas. Jobson from cottage, with plate of food. " Mrs. J. There, Miss Ruth, give that to the poor lad. Ruth (taking plate). Thank you. (site offers the plate to the hoy in pantomime; he refuses, but at last, encouraged by lier mannei; takes the plate and goes up, where he sits and eats ravenously. Ruth and Mrs. 'J. down c. f.) Ruth. To me there is something inexpressibly sad in seeing any one so hoBgry. Poor little fellow ! We must try and do somethiDg for him, Mrs. Jobson. Mrs. J. Aye, that we will, dearie, to-morrow morning. JEntei- Henry Armour, b. 1 e. Armour. Hello, Ruth ! Kate ! Mrs. Jobson ! Ruth. Here we are, father. What's the matter ? You look excited. Arm. Nothing's the matter. Roth {ci-ossing to him). Father, something has happened. Arm. Well, you're right; someliiing has happened. Come here, (ttey go to R. 3 E.) Do you know that mine over there on Snow mountain ? Ruth. Yes; it's the "Little Ruth," that you named after me. Arm. Yes, after you, my dear. Well, I've just sold that mine to some Eastern men for-^ow much do you think ? (tliey turn and come down 0.) Ruth. Oh, Ave thousand dollars, perhaps. Mrs. J. i say ten thousand. I.know Jobson once had a mine Arm. (laughing). Why, that wouldn't buy a look at it What do you say to a hundred thousand dollars, eh ? Ruth. A hundred thousand dollars ! Do you mean it. father ? Mrs. J. It's quite likely. I know Jobson had a mine Arm. (producing bills and papers). There yon are— C. O. D. One hundred thousand dollars, in cash and good securities. DOWN THE BhACK CANON. 9 Mrs. J. (cwtt^e, going lo^oard coUqge). If lobaoa had ouly sold his mjiie for a Jiundrod thousand-dollars, aiiU ijnt'drank up the money, J.'d not be here now, a poor lone widder, which -everytlung goes coutratjr to. (t/pon liilp hoiit(.)i(Ti {throwing her asute). Make me, will ye! Haw, haw! Le's see ye begin. I reckon I'll kick the lights outen this cub if I wants to. {bibks boy again, who faUs) Git up now and make the lady a bow. {(iragsthn unconscious boy to his feet.) Rhth. Stop this, I say! Stone (thromng Iter roughly aside), Come, sis, don't ye be tryiu' no games on me. {cuffs boy — 'Rvth seizes his arm — he forces her to i-neel. and holds her in ihat-posilion)Lord, don't ye look pretty uowyer mad ! RtJTH {struijciling). Help ! Help ! Stone. Won't you give the old man a kiss, hey ? Come, just one little o;ie. {tries to kiss her, they struggle.) RCTii. Help ! ^nier John Andkews, running, n. 1 e. He catches Stone by the collar and waist and throws him heavily. Andrews. Lie there, you brute! What is it. Miss Armouv? («s.«(.now ? Cob- cealment can be of -no further use to you. Ant). {iitttiijiiaiiUy). Confess a crime I've never committed! How dare you insult 'me thus ? If I were free you would not say this to Ble. , It is cowardly. Thoenb. Enough. This is no time for bravado. Have you any an- swer to make ? And. (mUk great Jbrce). Yes, I have. You have falsely accused me ' of this crime. Some terrible mistake has been made^ which I cannot now explain. Do not be hasty in this matter. I am not guilty, and 1 will not be' thus c»ndemnedi Heniy Armour was' my friend — the father of the woman I love. How could I have brought such a sorrow upon her ? And what an accusation to bring against a man ! Murder ! MJi _ God I There is nothing so terrible as this! Men, have I not always been honest and^ manly with jou ? Have I ever robbed or cheated or lied ? Is there not one here who believes me innocent? Do you, George Baker-? Do you; Frank Mason ? Or you. Pierce DaviS ? Or you ? Or you? What! Not one among you all who dares to take my hand? Tom (tieppiii^ forwiird and putting his arm arountl Andrews' neelc). Yes, Johnny,. I'dare. (emotion hy both.) , ' And. (to Tom). Thank you, Tom, thank you. (haughtily to the cromd) Well, gentlemen, what next ? Thoene (to jury). Gentlemen, you have heard the testimony given this night You will consult together at once, and render your verdict. But remember that it is better to let ten guilty men eacatie than to hang one who is innocent; and also that the strongest -testimony against John Andrews was unintentionally given by his afSanced wife. That is all. We await your verdict (jury aj/pear to consult Tom goes close to Amdeews at c. f., and slips a siic-shooter into his leand.) Tom. Take it, old man; take it; it'll come handy^ There's six shots in it; one for every cursed juiymah. (jit7-y rise and come Jbrwavd.) . Thompson. We are ready. Thobne. 'What is your verdict, gentlemen ? Thompson. We find John An(Srews guilty of the .murder of Penry Armour, and we sentence him to be hanged by the neck, betwewi now and sunrise. • Tom. li's an outrage ! He is not guilty ! (to Andrews) Nxjw's youl: time, Jotinny. Bun, Old man, up the cliff. Ell see you out. (Andsews apjieurs dazed, and does not move.) ,, 22 DOWN THE BLACK CANON. TiioRNE. Is that the verdict of all, gentlemen ? Juu.}i(all). It is. And. {aaiile, dazed). Guilty ! What can it all mean ? And Eutli be- lieves me guilty too ! I wonder if it is so ? Am I really awake, or is this some fearful dream ? During this entire scene Jimmie is on tlte slitge, visible to the audieme. He is unable to comprehend the situation. Several times he iip- proaches men, and tries to teU tliem soineihing by signs, but Ihi'y repulse hiin. His face shows his hm'ror of the inurdei; and hit seenu dazed. Two guards step forward to lead Andrews to the rope. Tom throws hlmnelf in front of him, and seizes pLi/ol. Tom. Hands ofl'! This is my pardner. I'm here to kill! Stand back, I say! (to Andrews) Now's your chance, Johnny. Run for it! Run up the rocks! I'll hold 'em here. Quick! Run \ (Tim is over/ioieernl, his .pistol taken away, and his arms are tied. Jimmie then realizes sovif- thlug of the situation — kisses his hand, stands before him, and tries Id tell the stwy oftJie murder. No one understands him. He then kneels and appeids to Thorne irilh pathetic gestures.) Thorne. What does the boy mean ? Does any one understand him ? justness by boy) Here, Stone ! What does this child mean ? {bo,v xees Stone, and is both alarmed and emboldened — gesticulates wildli/. Stone seizes him.) Stone. Curse him ! What's he doing 'hevet {strikes him. Bm/gs- tures — Stone moves to knock him down — boy- runs- au'iiy, srizes rifle, and backs lip centre upon rocks, where he remains in sight of tiudi- ence during scene. The noose is now adjusted over Amuiews' liend, at B. 2 E., and the end is carried away across the stage toward i,. 2 i:. Men take hold of rope.) Thokne (approaching Andrews). John Andrews, do you still deny your guilt? • And. Before God, I do ! I am not guilty. You dare not give me a fair trial. You are acting like madmen, but tlie time will come when I shall be bitterly avenged. Beware of your liour of reiientance. Confess this crime ? How can I ? I am innocent! You are the guilty ones. Von, Thorne, you Field, you Davis, you Russell. -You are all mui-derei'.s to- night; and some day you will drink tlie cup of e.\piation to the bitter - dregs. That is all, ■ Now hang me if you daie. ' Thorxe. We dare hang twenty men if wo think it right. You are not convicted on Stone's testimony, but on that of your affianced wife, {fnkrs out mitrh) You shall have three minutes more for repeiitaiice- TiiM {aside to Andrews). For my sake, Johmiy, old man, run. There'd a chance. And. {aside to Tom). It's too late, Tom, too late. If Ruth thinks me guilty, I've nothing to live for. Tom {a.vidfl lo Andrews). Live to prove .you are innocent. Come, run; run! Take the chance ! Oh ! if I were only free, {strugu^es.) Thorne. Time's up. Once more, will you confess before you enter eternity? And. No ! I am innocent. Tom {struggling to free himself). Curse you all for a Ipt of cowards '. Untie my hands and I'll face the whole lot of you. Cowards ! Cowards ! Murderers ! TiioRNE. Silence! (to tosh) Ready, men! ^to Andrews) Once more, for the last time ? DOWN THE BLACK CANON. 23 And. Never 1 (to Tom) Say good-bye -to Ruth, Tom.,. Tell her that I forgive her for thinkitig ni'e guilty, and that I died with her name on my lips. Good-bye, boy, good-bye ! Ill show you' how a brave man can die. Thorne. And now, John Andrews, you are about to meet your Maker. You do not go unwarned, or ui|fairly tried ; and If ever a man was justly punished, you are now ; for " wHbao sheddeth the blood of man, by man 'Shall his blood be shed." May God have mercy on .your soul ! TiiOBNE signals the. men at l. 1 e. lo pull on the rope. Instantly JiM- jiiE rjtshes down c, witli a wild era, seizes the knife out of Tom'.s belt, and cuts the rope about Andrews' Aeati, Andrews and Jim- MlK rush up rocks at rear. To.M._ Hurrah ! Run, Johnny, run ! {strvggles to free himself.) As Andrews and Jimmie stand at back of stage on rock, Ruth rushes on stage, R. 2 B., followed by Kate. Half a dozen men level their, rifles at Andrews. EuTH. Stop! Stop ! He is not guilty, {she strikes up a rifle aimed by one of lite men, and Kate iiiiother. Stone fires quicM'y, a«d An- drews ji seen to reel and then fall back out of sight. Rdth falls on her knees to tlie stage.) CURTAIN. ACT in. SCENE.— r/(e " Little Buth" mine. 'Curtain rise-f, discovering men at work about mouth of the mine. The bucket is raised and lowered — ore is dumped and wheeled aicay in the barrows. Enter Tom Dalton, r. 2 e., carrying a pick and dinner-}iail. Toyi.(singiiig). Is this Mr. Reilly, can any one tell;? Is this Mr. Reilly that keeps the hotel ? Is this Mr. Reilly they speak of so highly ? Well, upon my soul, Reilly, you're doing quite well. {laughing) Faith, I wish my name was ' ' Reilly, you're doing quite well," for It's mighty bad I'm doing this year, since poor old Armour died — rest to his sonl. And my boy, Johnny — he's dead too. God bless him ! There wasn't a whiter man in the Rockies than him. I'd stake my soul on his innocence. Ah, well, he's dead now, =and nothing I can do will brijig him to life, {shnirs rnc!,\ I wonder if that rock is good for any- thing. I found it over on Bald mountain yesterday. If it does contain silver I'm rich. No iron pirates this time. I'll have it assayed to-night. 24 DOWNJHE BLACK CANON. Maybe Kate would haye me if I was rich. It's little I can offer her now. (nes dmtm a little.) i And. Either of you know him ? Stone. .1 knew him ; but he is dead. And. Dead! Indeed! lEow did he die ? Stone. Shot— Vigila.ntes ! And. I see. I infer that at the time he bad broken one of the — er — local commandments ? Gold. I donno 'boud dot. He vos convicted of mudering and rob- bing an oldt man. And. Then I think I ma^ safely say he had broken one or two of the lesser commandments. Did he leave any property ? Stone. Look here ! You've asking a good many questions. Who are you ? And. Why, I'm-r^— a lawyer from Denver, and I've got a little claim against this man Andrews, which'I want to collect. Stone. Humph ! rd like to see you do it. He died without a cent. 30 _ DOWN THE BLACK CANON. - « And. Any friends ? ., . . i. ,. ^v *- n Stonk. No. Hia old partner has stood up for him, but that was all. Every one else in the camp was glad he was shot. Goi.D. You pet vevos ^mighty glad. ^ And. Yes, I can understand how you felt. He had no other friends, you say, besides this former partner? Stonk. No, not one. And. He was lucky. What was his partner's name ! Stone. Thomas Dalton. (Anuuews talceii out his note-book and writes z it down.) And. Thomas Dalton.,. Thank yon. Perhaps Ae will be willing to pay this debt of Andrews ? Stone. He may be wiUiiig, but that's all. He ain't got a cent in ths world. And. That's too bad. . What's his occupation ? • Stone. He is the day shift boss in this mine. He's bejow now. And. Ah, is he t And he liad no other friends, this Andrews ? Stone. Na. He was going to marry old Armour's daughter, but when he killed her father, that ended it. Besides, he is dead. . And. Exactly. The dead have no friends. And this daughter— what is her name? Stone. Ruth Armour. And. Then this daughter— Buth Armour— still believes he was guilty? Stone. Yes. And. Then I cannot hope to get her to pay this debt ? Stone. Ha, ha ! \ should think not. She hasn't gotra cent either. And. But her father, died rich ; he owned this mine, Fve heard. Stone. Whpever tohLyou that, lied. And. Very likely, {boicing) I'm very much obliged for your polfteness, ? gentlemen. ^ Goi.D. ifiowing). You vos entirely velcome, Clornel. Mr. Stone, ve must pe going. ' GrOOit-tay, Cornel. And. Good-day. Ston'e (aside, goiiir/). I don't like his looks. He's dangerous. [Eveitnt Stose and Gold.stein, h. And. {sotn.1). And so that is Rufus Stone ! I wonder I didn't shoot him in his tracks. What can these men be planning ? Some evil for some one. And so Riitli still believes me guilty t Sometimes I almost ' think I am ; for I am no rtearer a solution of this mystery than I was a yearagb, when I tied! down the QIack Canon to escape a disgraceful - death. No, I am innocent, and I will prove it before all the world, some day, with- God's help. ^I wonder where Jimmie is. Enter Jim.mie, l. 1 e.^ He is vxll dressed, clean, etc., but disguised. Come here, Jimmie. (<4e?/ go up to h. 2 e., and sit down) Well, my boy, we're back once more In Phoenix. We've had a hard time of it, Jimmie, this long year past, but two vagabonds, my boy, don't mind that. Many's the time, old fellow, you've stood between me and hopeless de- spair, and saved me fr^m myself. And during the long winter nights^ in the monntalns, I have saved my brain from destruction in teaching you to read and write.^ It was hard work for both of us, old fellow, but we stuck to it. {to andienve) I never told him I was a man accused of _ murder. I wanted to feel that one person in the world believed in me entirely. And so, he does not know my story. Yet sometimes I think he tQO has a secret in his heart that he has not yet learned to speak.' He DOWN THE BEAOK OANON. 31 sits SO quiet ancl thoBgbtful, as if lie were thinking how to tell me some- thing. Ah, well ! all in good time; Jris secret can wait; mine cannot. , ' (/() hmi) Stop ! Let me look at you. Yes, you're th&same old Jimmio you have always been. Blue eyes, red cheeks, and a smile like a May morning. ~ Enter Stone, unpeixeived, b. 3 e. Stone (aside). I must get Daiton out of the way; he will interfere with my plan to get the claim. If I can drop a giant cartridge down that stiatt it will do the work, and no one will be the wiser, (crosses.to l. v-. E., oiit of Hi'jht of Andrews, a)id feces, cartridge.) And. Jimmie, you remember that strike we made over in Glinnisot) ? (1^1/ signs yes) That made us rich m money, l&ut we are still poor— all ! ses u/x) SrKiGGS (aside, weepiii;/). I wis"h she'd stop. The least thing like thatsets mea-goihg.- I'm a regular sprinkling-pot. (Mes. S. comes down. To her) Go to, thou siren! Avaunt-! Away! I only know I've loved in vain. I only know farewell- farewell, farewell, farewell! Ha, ha! (starls for D. c. in P.) Kate. Hello, what's the matter now, governor? You haven't had your supper. Spjiiogs {tragically). I have no thoughts for supper now. Listen to the awful confession of a crushed and blighted being. Failing to receive that pecuniary encouragement which even the most spirituelle of mor- tals linds not -wholly inconsistent with the— er- details of domestic hap- piness, I have temporarily relinquished my journey up Mount PamasBiis, and am now — in fact, a c-comic singer, Katk. a comic singer ! Oh, lafks ! Give us a sample, Spriggsey. Spbiggs {mournfiMii)'. Spriggsey! Well, I submit. I am — only— a comic — singer, {he sinys some puinilar comic soiir/, or a duet with Kate and a dance can be introduced. At the end he mns up to c. D.^ and there says:) Sprtggs. Farewell ! I go to sing a comic song^for lucre ! Butchered to make a Roman holiday ! Ok, gi-ave, wher* now is thy sting t [Exit, n. D. He is heard singing a rollicking song for a moment, after he disappears. Kate. Mrs. Spriggs, will yon go with me to Tom's cabin ? Minerva. To-night, dearie? Kate. Yes ; it's only a little way. I want him brought down here so we can take care of him. Ill get some Of the boys to help us; Will you go? Minerva. To be sure I will, child. Come, we must get back before the storm, {thunder] I'll get my bonnet [Kvit, c. d. Kate. Aren't you well, Ruth dear? Ruth. Yes, quite well, but so unhappy, so very unhappys to-night. Kate. Don't cry, dear; it will all come right in the end. Ruth. If I could only hope so ! It's nearly a year now since our poor father was killed — and— John was lost in the Black Canon. Ah-! that cruel, cruel night ! (wiping her eyes) But, there, I will be brave, {enter Minerva, c. d.) Here is Mrs. Spriggs. Go, now, and bring Tom back with you as quick as possible. Kate. Indeed we will. Come, Mrs. Spriggs. ' \Exit Kate and Mrs Spriggs, c. d. Vivid liglitning and hud thun- thunder. Roth goes to c. D. and looks out, l/ien comes doioA and lights lamp. Music pp. during scene. Ruth (solm). Sometimes I feel as if I dared not face the terrors of another year. Five steps to the edge of yonder yawning chasm, a leap, and— that is all. A moment and there would be something lying, shape- less and bloody, on the rocks below, and I should have solved the great- mystery, and gone to meet John, (rises) No, no, I must not think of these things. How close the air is to-night. It seems as if I should suffocate. •{goes to window) How wildly the lightning plays about the mountain peaks I (flash and jjeal very loud and hrillitint) There is a dreadful storm coming, (reluns to seat near table. Jimmie enters behind her, follows and stands near her at table. She s^ws and sings a verse of "The Blue Bells of Scotland," very softly, then turns and sees him) Oh! who is it ? Wliat do you want ? (boy siiins he cannot speak) Why, it's the poor little dumb boy ! I thought you were dead. Come here, my DOWN THK BLACK CANON. 35 child ; come to me. ipop kneels by her side; she strokes his hair anS cries oner him) PoBr, lonely little fellow ! Where have j'eilbeen this long, long year ? I tliought you were dead— as-^John is. {weeps. .Boij gniiles, sluifcBS his head, u>id\(UlkSwilh his fingers. Ruth shakes her head. He_m-il.es on piece. of paper) What ! can you write ? (tiands her paper, she reads) "JJ you speak slow, I can read your lips." He understands what I say ! It's a miracle ! Who taught you, my boy ? {hoy writes) He seems to come to me like a messenger from the dead, (boy^iands' Iter a paper, s/te read^) "I know who killed your father!" What! What! What do you mean? Speak! Oh, God! he is dumb, (boj/ . writes.) Stone appears in dooriBay. Jimmie sees him, and instantly hides, in sight of audience, leaving paper on table. Stone {at doorway, aside). I reckon Til lock this door; she may be a little skittish at first, '{loeks door, then advanbes) Well, how's the love- liest of her sex, to-night, eh ? Pooty well ? ' Ruth {startled). Sir ! How dare you enter this house ? Stone. Who ? Me ? Oh, I've come for aigbciable little call, lady, alL the way from the camp, to do yod a kindtf'fte '(asftie) She's as pooty as a picture! I swear I'lHiave a kiss. '' '' Roth {scornfully/). Indeed 1 What is your— kindness ? Stone {sits close lo her, with bonfidential air, she moves aieay)- Well, just afore your poor old father died, he sold his mine to some patties. See ? {moves toward her.) - Ruth. Stop ! No nearer ! ' Stone. All right, if you feel that way. Well, that title he gave them parties wasn't perfect, an' so they was comin' down on you for some satisfaction. "So, when I heard it, I says to 'em, "See here," I saySj, "I kin fix tliis-all right; you leave it to me," 1 says; an' so they left it to me, an' that's what I come here tor— partly. (tcCkejt papei-fi'om pockety So, if you'll just sign this dockyment, I reckon I kinstraighten it out' all right, an' save you a heap of trouble an' money. Ruth. Let me see the paper. Stonb. Well, now, if I was you I wouldn't bother to read it. It ain't wrote very plain. You sign your name here, an' it'll be all right.- RuTH (fimily). I mnst'eee thte paper first. Let me have it. Stone.. Oh, it's all right, you can bet your life. It's dead straight I'll swear to anything that paper says. EuTu {viijoroitsly). Let me see it, I say. ■ , ' Stone {handing paper rebidlimUij). Well'i'there, since you are so per- tickler, look at it. Hope you'll be sntistied now. Ruth {oKido}. What does this B\san ? {readx, aside) " Miss Armour — Have.nothing to do with Rufiis Stone. Ho is tr\'ing to cheat yoii. Or- der him to leave your liouse at once, and if he is violent, kindly shoot film, and oblige A Friend." {^ijie ik.<, /(svfe) There is some treachery here, and this man is at the hottoirt of it. {ulund, xoilk forced caliivness^ • Have you read this document, Mr. Stone ? ' ■ .: SroxK. Me? No; I can't read very good, on 'countof my eyes; bnt I kiiow the feller that wrote it, an' you can bet it's all right, dead sure. I'll swear to it any day. EuTir. Oh, yes, it's perfectly correct; there's no doubt of that; and I'll endorse my name on it with .great pleasure, {she writes.) STOSK{aiidei chirc/dinr/ . Ha, ha! Ain't I done it neat though? I don't believe there's a man in tlie camp could have done it so neat as me. 36 DOWN THE BLACK CANON. < , EuTu (readinn, aside). "To aU whom it rn*y concern: 1 fully endoree th6 above statement. Rufus Stone is a swindler and a liar, arjcl I waqi all persons against trusting him in anything. Ruth Armour; {nlfimt) There is your paper, and- noW the sooner you leave my liouse the lipttGP Thcrfi's tli6 door Go ! Stone {with mode hniriuitij). Oh, you wouldn't turn me out with this storm coming on, would you'? after all I've done for you, too. , RufH. All you've done for me ! You've done nothing /but persecute and annoy me for a year. Leave the house ! Stone. Persecute! Annoy! Who? Me? Oh no, no indeed. Didn't I get you our school to teach, an' keep you there too, by jest tellin' the boys you was under my pertection, eh ? Ha, ha ! Ruth (augry). Under your protection! You lie ! I'd starve before - I'd owe you for a penny. Stone (chutklinr/ and ulappinri document. Aside). Let her say what she pleases; I've got the dockyment to prove it here, (aloud) Oh, no, I reckon ypn'd do most anything 'fore you'd starve, sissy. {siijnijioauUij) ., Most anything, you would. ' ■ RtiTH. You scoundrel ! Out of here! At once! Go! Stone. Oh, I ain't in no hurry, (advances to table, sees paper which JiMMiE left there, and piclnsit up) Hello, what's this? Been writing, , feh ? Love letter, I s'pose. Looks like it, don't it, hey ? Roth. Put down that paper! How dare you touch it?. Stone. Softly, my dear; you'll injure your voice. (Us ide) Curse my luck ! Wljy can't I read ? (aloud) Come, now, my dear, read it to me, 80 I can see if it's all right; and (Ihrealeuingbj) read it straight Don't let's haxe any funny business, or you'll be sorry. Ruth (ftEa?rei«(n(7 paper, aside). What's this ? Wliy, the little dumb boy wrote it. {reads aside) " The map that killed your father was a bi^ man. 1 saw him. He beat and kicked me. There is a mark over his eye." What does this mean ? (a long pause. She studies the paper and the situation earnestly, then, as if seized with an idea says, impO' rativehf). Take off your hat ! ^ Stone. Ax, yer pardon, miss. I quite forgot I was in genteel society,- v (removes hat and reveals scnr.) 1 EuTH (sees scar, aside). The scar! Merciful Heavens! Can this be the truth at last ? (overcome, crushes paper and throws it on floor.) Stonk (menacingly). Why don't you read it? (picks up paper and iMHtis it to her) Bead, I say, or I'll choke you. Ruth (throwing the paper into his face). Stop ! Keep away ! I know all. Yon murdered my father ! Stonb (advancing). Curse you ! You lie! Ruth (retreatiiig). I do not lie. You killed my father! Stone. You'll be sorry for this. Poverty has made you mad. Guess the only thing the old man left you was an ugly temper, (advancing.) BuTif (seizing a six-shooter offt/ie table and levelKng it). No, he left me this ! Put up your hands ! Put them up, I say ! Now march into that corner. I'll keep you there till the sheriff comes, you murderer. (a ^aH.i&.) Stone (witliniit stiii-ing, whining). Ye ain't a-goin' to turn me out o' doors a night like this, be ye ? (goes slowly towardx her) An' ye don't really believe I done it, now, do ye ? Ye can't believe I done it. (suii- ^enly pointing behind her towardi dogr) My God ! What's tliat ? (Rnrri i)irns involuntarily. Stone seiZ3s pistol', and tioisls it out ofh.fr hand) You'll exci^sg me, wqn't ye, deary ? But I was a little nervousabout the j^Hi(, so I jiist made so bold, (aside) She knows too much tor her own DOWN THE BLACK CANON. 37 good. , ril settle, her, now so she won't tell any tales, (alohd) Supfjose you put up your bauds no"w ? ; Rum (does not move). Coward! Murderer! Stone. Stop! That'll do. You haVe talked' enough. What do you say to myjfelting it go at you, just once for luclc, eh ? One — ^two — {cocks pistol.) '' RtJTH (scwrifuUy). Fire away,! — \i you can. The pistol isn't loaded. (j>«M.ve.) ~ Stone (throws it away and draws knife). Well, this is loaded, (seizes, tier arm) And so I killed your poor old father, did I ? Well, well, welt, how sad ! Yes, I did kill him, and! might as well kill you now, and . linish the family. What do you say ? ' Ruth (striiiigles, and is thrown to her knees). You dare not hurt me. I defy you to kill me. Stone. Oh, you do, do you ? Well, we'll see about that, (poses, arm in air. Noise of gaUopiwj hcyrse is heard outside, the sound coining nearer and nearer. 'Die two in attitude of suspense.) . RdtH (aside^ eagerly). Some one is coming this way! Perhaps it is help. Stone (to her, menaoingly). If the rider stops here, I'll kill you — and him too. (they listen — tlie horse gallops past the door, and the sound dies away in tlie distance. Relieved) He's gone, (mockingly) Well, aiid so here you are yet, eh ? The gentleman didn't stop, did he ? (malces a move with knife) Forgot you was here, may be. (flourish. At this mo- ment Jimmie rtishei out and seizes Stone's hand. Tliey struggle, Eutu- isthi'own, Jmum is held powerless) 'B.&i\o\ Who is this? You! Step- an'-fetch it ! I thought you was dead. Well, I'm in a killin' way to- night, an' J reckon you'll hev to tSi^e a little jump into the Black Oarioh ; then yon won't leave any blood stains, (drags him a little up, boy strug- gles) ril kill you both, curse yon ! Rdth (rising and rMhing nt Stone). Stop ! Help ! help ! You shall not. Help ! (runs to door — it is locked — stands in front of it. Stone seizes her — struggle — she and boy are both thrawn.) Stonh (standing over Ruth with knife). You'd Ijetter be quiet, my lamb. You'll git hurt if you fool with me. (a slruggte) Curse you ! Be' quiet. Ruth. Help! help! (Stone ^/trows /lerafl'ajn — s7ie faints.) Stone. You've got to die ! - During this scene the soundofa horse galloping dmmi tlie road is heard. Itstops, and John Andkews appeai-s at window t. o. He tries door, bvtfinding it locked, smashes window sash, and jumps into room. All should be clone very quickl/y. And. Stone, put up your hands! (tries to reach pistol that hangs in liell at his right side, but cannot, his right arm being in a sling.) Stone (recoiling). Andrews! Ah ! It is his ghost! And; I'm not a ghost, but you will soon be one. Stone. I'll not be one alone! (adoanois on Andrews with knife, who backs away, still trying to reach pistol leith his left hand. They clinch and have a hard sli-uggle. At last Andrews gets the bffst of tlie fight, cfnii throws Stone, half senseless. He then goes to Ruth, who rises and puts arm about h'ini.y Ofiowd rush in, including Sprigos, Minerva, Kate, Tom, Thorne, and all who appeared in Act U. 38 DOWN THE BLACK CANON. Thokne. Where is lie ? (sees Stokk) Ah ! Seize him,' men. (tftey seize Stoke and lead luin duioii to front.) Sto^jk. What do you want ? Enter Goldstein, o. d. Thokne. We want you for the niiinler of Heury Armour. You'll swiflg for this. Stone makes a sudden and violent movement, and tearing himself free, ruiis u/i imd offc. d., and is seen through teimlom in Jlxiito jiimi) headlonij from the cliff into theBlauk Canon. The crowd starts to run after him, bid Goldstein .S;