Maim Lik. rditc: de»t. 
 
 
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HE LOOKED QUITE TERRIBLE, AND I THINK HE SCARED HER- 
 BERT A LITTLE WHEN THE BLINDFOLD WAS TAKEN OFF 
 
 -Page i6o 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 AN ACCOUNT OF THE 
 
 BARNSTORMING OF THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 OF THE BARNVILLE 
 
 EDITED 
 FROM THE RECORD KEPT BY "BOB" 
 
 BY 
 
 MAX ALEY 
 
 ILLUSTRATED 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS 
 
 1914 
 
COFYKIGHT. Zgi4, BT 
 
 CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS 
 Published April, 19x4 
 
 C4ttc a^^^' 
 
"BOB" WISHES TO DEDICATE THIS RECORD TO 
 THE THREE WHO, WITH HIMSELF, FORMED 
 THE ORIGINAL BARNSTORMERS* DRAMATIC 
 CLUB H. B. J., H. L. M., AND E. J. 
 
 308877 
 
A NOTE BY "BOB'' 
 
 The Barnstormers are all "grown-up" now, 
 and the four original members of the club are scat- 
 tered in widely separated parts of the United States. 
 Strange to say, not one of them has the remotest 
 connection with the theatre. The Barnville, when 
 I saw it last, had gone back to its original purpose. 
 Its loft was filled with hay, and a horse occupied 
 the dressing-room where Zara and Bianca had 
 donned their flowing robes; the ticket-window was 
 gone; the scenic splendors of the loft had disap- 
 peared — rude hands had torn away the last vestiges 
 of its theatrical glory. But from a beam hung a 
 few tatters of brown cambric, once part of the 
 front curtain; and I found one time-stained hand- 
 bill announcing * ' Bianca. ' ^ Over in a corner of the 
 loft was a hidden niche under the eaves, and as my 
 hand crept back into it and closed over a dusty 
 old volume, memories of long, hot summer days 
 came back to me — days when Hal and I toiled over 
 
viii A NOTE BY '>BOB" 
 
 our writing of "Rupert the Red Ranger/' or I sat 
 alone, carefully recording the Barnstorming of 
 the Barnstormers of the Barnville. And when 
 I brought the book forth from its hiding-place, 
 there was that same record — a cumbersome old 
 ledger filled with my own boyish handwriting. 
 
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 He looked quite terrible, and I think he scared Herbert 
 
 a little when the blindfold was taken off . Frontispiece 
 
 FACINO 
 PAGE 
 
 They were so surprised that they didn't even have sense 
 
 enough to run loo 
 
 John's voice was high and cracked, and he made the 
 
 lines, sound their awfulest 184 
 
 Jglma^s cave was about the only new setting for the 
 play. It was lots of work to get fixed, but we didn't 
 mind that 244 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 Saturday y February i8. 
 
 Hal and I were up in the hay-loft of our old 
 barn this afternoon, and I had a real hunch. 
 Hunches are funny things — they come to you 
 just like a wink — so quick that you don't know 
 what made them. But if they are really, truly, 
 cross-your-heart-and-hope-to-die hunches, straight 
 from your inside, why, they are worth considering. 
 
 Well, mine was a really hunch. 
 
 It was raining, and a rainy Saturday is nearly 
 as bad as a rainy picnic day. We had tried al- 
 most everything, and we were feeling rather glum 
 and tired out and grouchy. Rainy Saturdays 
 make you that way. We had come up in the 
 barn loft to do stunts on the flying rings. Hal 
 is a corker on the flying rings. He can do about 
 anything — backward flops and double flops and 
 
4 •' '■'''. / 'il^^ : BAPiT STORMERS 
 
 skin-the-cats with fancy variations, and a great 
 many other stunts that have no regular names. 
 
 I can't do much on the flying rings. I've tried, 
 but it just isn't in me. Hal hasn't given up try- 
 ing to teach me to do the backward flop — ^he says 
 that any one who can swim like I can ought to 
 be able to learn to do a simple Httle thing like 
 a backward flop — ^but I get scared every time. 
 Last summer I fell from the rings and sprained 
 my wrist so that I had to wear it in a sHng, same 
 as if my arm was broken, for a week. I've been 
 yellow when it comes to flying rings ever since 
 that. 
 
 Well, as I said, it was raining. Hal had done 
 everything he knew on the flying rings, with me 
 looking on, and then we had settled down to rest 
 on a pile of hay over in one comer of the loft. 
 
 Neither one of us said much. We just didn't 
 want to talk — we both get that way sometimes. 
 If I had wanted to talk it wouldn't have done 
 any good, for Hal didn't want to, and you might 
 as well try to pry open a river mussel as to get 
 Hal to talk when he doesn't feel like talking. 
 
 The rain came pattering down on the roof with 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS $ 
 
 2L nice, drizzly, sleepy sound, and the hay was so 
 comfortable that I nearly went to sleep. I felt 
 like Lady Jane Gray — she's our cat — ^when she 
 curls up in her basket behind the stove and purrs. 
 
 That is the way to get a hunch — ^just curl up 
 and purr! Hunches won't come if you try to 
 make them. They pop up before your mind's 
 eye when you are feehng real satisfied and think- 
 ing of nothing in particular. It's just like Lady 
 Jane Gray when she's purring behind the stove 
 and a mouse comes along the kitchen floor; she 
 isn't expecting it, she hasn't tried to coax it out, 
 but if she gives one big jump she can land it sure. 
 
 Well, I was purring — not really purring, of 
 course, but all comfortable and sleepy, and as 
 near to purring as a fellow gets — ^when I sat up 
 stiff and straight in the hay and gave Hal a kick 
 in the ribs. The hunch had come to me: "Why 
 not have a show?" 
 
 I guess I thought it out loud, for Hal heard me. 
 
 "Too much trouble," he said. "Takes too 
 much time. Shows are for little kids, an)rway." 
 
 We are going on fourteen and are in the eighth 
 grade. 
 
6 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 "But I mean a real show," I said. "A play 
 like they have at a real theatre." 
 
 Hal just grunted. He didn't seem very much 
 taken with the hunch I had had. But I wouldn't 
 give up. 
 
 "If we gave a real play/' I said, "we could 
 charge five cents to get in, and maybe we could 
 make some money." 
 
 Hal thought a minute. "Where are you going 
 to get a play we could give?" he asked. 
 
 Now that had been part of my hunch. We 
 had all read "Little Women," even if it is a girls' 
 book. I had been thinking about the plays the 
 girls used to give in their bam, when the idea 
 struck me that if they could do it we could. 
 Larry Donovan's sister has a book with all those 
 plays in it. I read it last year when I had the 
 chicken-pox. The plays are good plays, too — all 
 about knights, and lords, and girls that were as 
 brave as boys. Jo and Meg wrote the plays when 
 they weren't much older than Hal and I, and then 
 after Jo wrote " Little Women," and it was pub- 
 lished, why, these plays were made into a book, too. 
 
 I knew Hal had read the "Comic Trag- 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 7 
 
 edies" — that's what they are called — ^because Hal 
 reads all the books in the neighborhood. So I re- 
 minded him of them and he was interested right 
 away. 
 
 '*We could make a theatre out of this barn," 
 I said, "and give one of the * Comic Tragedies.' 
 Jo and Meg gave their plays in a barn — and from 
 the picture of it in that book it wasn't half as 
 good a bam as this one." 
 
 Hal seemed to be thinking about what I had 
 said, but he didn't say anything himself for quite 
 a while. He has funny, winky, little blue eyes 
 that all close up into knots when he thinks and 
 then open up wide and surprise you when he is 
 ready to say something. His nose wriggles, too, 
 when he's thinking, and if you know the signs, 
 why you keep still till his eyes open and his nose 
 gets peaceful. 
 
 "Do you remember the 'Palace'?" Hal asked 
 at last. 
 
 I did. The "Palace" was a theatre in Larry 
 Donovan's grandfather's carriage-house loft. It 
 happened last summer while I was away with 
 mother on a visit to Aunt Meta at her cottage 
 
8 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 up on Lake Michigan. I had to wear white duck 
 sailor suits and keep clean, and couldn't go bare- 
 footed. Hal and his brother John and Larry 
 Donovan fixed up the "Palace" while I was away, 
 and I missed all the fun. Only they never did 
 give a show. They were going to have a real 
 vaudeville show — acrobatic stunts and some 
 music. The show was to be on Wednesday. 
 The Thursday before, they took in Cribby Mc- 
 Cormack and Billy Winters, because Cribby 
 played a harmonica and Billy could walk on his 
 hands. On Saturday they all had an iron-weed 
 fight down in the crick bottom where the old 
 lime-kiln is. The old lime-kiln is just like a fort, 
 so you can have better fights down there than 
 'most anywhere around here. But this time 
 Cribby McCormack fell off the top of the lime- 
 kiln on his head. Only it didn't kill him, because 
 he landed on top of Larry. He knocked the wind 
 out of Larry, and both of them had to be carried 
 home. And then everybody's fathers and moth- 
 ers got all worked up, and talked over the back 
 fences about how it was a wonder kids ever lived 
 to grow up; and of course Larry's grandfather 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 9 
 
 said there couldn't be no such goin's-on as a 
 show in his carriage-house loft; somebody might 
 get killed for sure. School began in a week and 
 a half, so folks forgot all about Cribby falling off 
 the lime-kiln; only the town marshal posted a 
 sign down there that said, '^Five Dollars Fine 
 For Trespassing," so we can't use the lime-kiln 
 for a fort any more. We are all sore at Cribby 
 every time we see that sign. He ought to have 
 known that if he went and fell off the top of the 
 thing there'd be a rumpus, and it would be posted 
 just like it was! 
 
 "WeU," I said to Hal, "Cribby McCormack 
 doesn't have to break his head and put a crimp 
 in this show!" 
 
 Hal laughed. "But do you suppose they will 
 let us?" he asked. 
 
 He meant our fathers and mothers. 
 
 "Sure," I said. "If we give a real play they 
 will come to see it." 
 
 "Do you think they would?" Hal asked. 
 
 I wasn't real sure, but I said yes, I thought 
 they would. You can never tell about grown-up 
 people. Sometimes they get real crazy about the 
 
lo THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 things you do — like shows — and again they tell 
 you to go along and don't bother them. 
 
 "They go to see the plays the High School 
 Dramatic Club gives," I told Hal. 
 
 Hal said "Yes/' doubtfully, and then his eyes 
 winked and went into little knots, and his nose 
 wriggled. 
 
 I got up and looked at the loft. It is quite 
 a big loft and just about right to give plays in. 
 The part over the carriage room is raised, so that 
 the ceiling below will be higher, and that makes 
 a platform at one end. Of course that would be 
 the stage. The other part, where we could have 
 the seats, is more than half of the loft and would 
 give room for all the people who would come. 
 
 While I was looking around the bam Hal sat 
 there thinking. But he was looking around, too. 
 That's one other thing about Hal; he takes every- 
 thing in for himself. I knew he was figuring it 
 all out, and that when he got ready to talk he'd 
 talk — ^but not before. 
 
 That's the advantage of growing up with a 
 fellow. You know just how to take him and just 
 how to act when he's around. Hal and I — why, 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS ii 
 
 we have known each other ever since we started 
 to school — eight long years! 
 
 Hal has brains. As long as IVe known what 
 brains were, IVe known Hal had them. But any- 
 how, most boys have more brains than they get 
 credit for having. 
 
 After a while we got to talking about the plays 
 in the book of "Comic Tragedies." "We will 
 give *The Captive of Castile' first," Hal said. 
 "It's one of the best in the book, and it doesn't 
 look very hard." 
 
 "But we have to have the theatre before we 
 give the play, don't we?" I asked. 
 
 Hal laughed. "Yes," he said, "that's what we 
 did when we had the 'Palace.' We spent a whole 
 week getting the place ready for a show we never 
 gave." 
 
 "Did you spend any money?" 
 
 Money is pretty scarce with all of us. 
 
 "No," said Hal, "didn't spend any. Just 
 threw away a week of perfectly good time." 
 
 That made me think. I guess Hal was right. 
 We'd better be sure of the show before we fix 
 up the barn. 
 
12 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 We fell to talking then about how we would 
 fix it up when the time came. We both think 
 it will make a corking good theatre. Of course, 
 we will have the stage on the raised part over 
 the carriage room. The part for the audience 
 will take up the rest of the loft. We^U have seats 
 made out of boards laid across from boxes. 
 And down-stairs we're going to fix up a ticket 
 office just like they have in a real theatre. 
 
 "How many people does it take to give 'The 
 Captive of Castile'?'' I asked Hal. 
 
 He thought for a minute. "Four, I think," 
 he said. "It's written so that two people can 
 take all the parts if necessary. Don't you re- 
 member in 'Little Women,' Jo and Meg acted all 
 the parts in the plays they gave?" 
 
 I had forgotten that, but when he spoke of it 
 I remembered. "Then we don't need but two 
 more, do we?" 
 
 "That's all." 
 
 "Larry Donovan?" 
 
 "Sure," said Hal, "we must have Larry Dono- 
 van." 
 
 "And how about John?" 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 13 
 
 Hal shook his head. "Can't say about John. 
 Larry will be in for it right away, but John may 
 not be." 
 
 If Hal is for anything, John is usually against 
 it. That's the way with brothers. Makes me 
 glad, sometimes, I haven't any — still I miss mine 
 that I haven't got, and I wish I had one, even 
 if he didn't always want to do just what I did. 
 
 We knew we could count on Larry. He's al- 
 ways in for everything. He sticks, too. Last 
 year when we dug a cave in the clay-bank, Larry 
 stuck by it when the rest of us all gave it up 
 because it got water in it. Larry baled the water 
 out with a tin coffee-can, and then put boards 
 down to walk on. We all came back feehng 
 pretty small. We elected Larry Heap Big Chief 
 of the cave-dwellers, and that evened things up, 
 because the Heap Big Chief had the power of life 
 and death over all his subjects. (Not really life 
 and death, of course. Just pretended kind. We'd 
 all read a book called, "Captured by the Cave- 
 Dwellers," so we dug a cave, and played we were 
 cave-dwellers like those it told about in the book.) 
 
 Hal and I decided not to ask any one but John 
 
14 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 and Larry to be in our show. When you get too 
 many you always have trouble. After a while we 
 can ask another fellow or so if we wish. 
 
 "We can make it a regular club/' said Hal, "a 
 dramatic club, like the one they have in high 
 school. Then we can give it a name, and have 
 a president and a treasurer, and hold meetings. 
 If we take in any new members we can initiate 
 them just Hke the High School Dramatic Club 
 does." 
 
 The part about the name made the biggest hit 
 with me. I hadn't thought about that. "What 
 will we name it?" I asked. 
 
 Hal wrinkled his nose and thought real hard. 
 Then he looked up and his eyes opened wide. 
 
 "I've got it!" he said at last. "I was reading 
 some old magazines up in the attic the other day, 
 and I found something by Joe Jejfferson — the man 
 who plays Rip Van Winkle. He was telling about 
 how it was when he was a Httle boy, and his 
 mother and father were acting in a traveUing com- 
 pany. They were going through the South, and 
 since there were no theatres in that part of the 
 country in those days, the actors would find a 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 15 
 
 big barn in the town where they were going to 
 play, and set up their scenery and give their play 
 in it. People called the actors who did this, 
 'Barnstormers.'" 
 
 "Well?" I said. 
 
 "That's what we'd call ourselves," said Hal, 
 "for we'd be playing in a barn just like those 
 actors did when Joseph Jefferson was a little boy." 
 
 "The Barnstormers," I said to myself, "that's 
 a good name." 
 
 "Then we must have a name for our theatre," 
 said Hal. 
 
 I thought a minute. "Why not 'Barnville'?" 
 I asked. 
 
 "Good!" said Hal. "Fine!" 
 
 So we fixed it up. We, the Barnstormers, are 
 going to barnstorm in the Barnville! 
 
CHAPTER II 
 
 Tuesday, February 21. 
 
 Well, the Barnstormers are! We have organ- 
 ized (that is what Hal calls it) the Barnstormers' 
 Dramatic Club. 
 
 I told John all about my hunch that we could 
 make a theatre out of our old barn. I didn't 
 mention Hal at all, and John thought he was in 
 on the ground floor. He said he would be for it 
 strong, and that he thought it was the best hunch 
 ever. 
 
 Father and mother and I were invited to the 
 Jamesons' for dinner Sunday, and in the after- 
 noon, when dinner was over, Hal and John and 
 I went up to their room to talk about the Barn- 
 stormers. We telephoned for Larry to come over, 
 and when he came we told him all about it, and 
 then organized the club. I am president, Hal is 
 treasurer, John is to play the hero parts, and 
 Larry is stage-manager. 
 
 i6 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 17 
 
 Our first play is to be "The Captive of Castile" 
 from the book of "Comic Tragedies" — ^just like 
 Hal and I decided that day in the barn. Larry's 
 sister let us have her copy of the book, and we 
 are going to write out each part from it. 
 
 There are five characters: Bernardo, Lord of 
 Castile; Ernest U Estrange, an EngHsh lord; Her- 
 nando, a priest; Selim, a slave; and Zara, Ber- 
 nardo^ s daughter. Hal is to be Bernardo, who is 
 fierce and very cruel. John is to play Ernest 
 UEstrange, the hero. Larry is to play two 
 parts — Hernando and Selim, They aren't very 
 long parts and they don't come in at the same 
 time. I am to be Zaral 
 
 I don't like the idea of being a girl. Boys are 
 boys and girls are girls, and I'm quite satisfied 
 where I am. But somebody has to be Zara — or 
 we will have to take a girl into the Barnstormers. 
 We don't want to do that, so I guess it is up to me. 
 
 I told mother I was going to be the girl in our 
 show, and she laughed and seemed to think it was 
 very fimny. But she's going to fix me up some 
 clothes out of some old evening dresses Aunt Meta 
 left here. One is blue satin, and mother says 
 
i8 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 she'll make me my costume out of that, and then 
 if I have to have another one she'll make that 
 out of an old pink dress. Then there's a cloak, 
 or a sort of cape, I am to wear in the woods when 
 I'm lost. And I'm to have a wig made out of 
 brown burlap ravelled out so as to look like hair. 
 After aU, I think it will be fun to play the part 
 of Zara. 
 
 Mother thinks it's great we are going to give 
 a play. And Mrs. Jameson is interested, too. I 
 heard mother talking to her over the telephone, 
 and they were both laughing, but they seemed 
 real proud of us because we had organized the 
 Barnstormers. 
 
 It's just like I said. You never can tell about 
 grown folks! 
 
 Thursday y February 23. 
 
 Hal and John and Larry and I met over at 
 Larry's last night and took turns reading until we 
 had read "The Captive of Castile." It is a good 
 play, all right! 
 
 Zara, the heroine, gets lost in the woods and 
 is rescued by Ernest^ the hero, who is an Enghsh 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 19 
 
 soldier. Zara^s father is a Moorish lord and on 
 the opposite side in the war. Some time later, 
 Ernest is taken prisoner by the Moors and is 
 sentenced to die. He is locked up in the donjon 
 of Bernardo^s castle with the other prisoners who 
 are going to have their heads cut off. Zara sees his 
 name on the list of prisoners and tells her father: 
 "It was he who saved me from a bitter death 
 in yonder forest." But Bernardo is cruel and 
 hard-hearted, and he refuses to save the man who 
 saved his daughter's Hfe. But Zara is different 
 from her father. She makes up her mind to save 
 Ernest no matter what happens. She calls old 
 Selim, who has charge of the donjon, and gets the 
 keys from him by promising him that his daugh- 
 ter shall be made free, and be a slave no longer. 
 Ernest is in the donjon thinking about the lovely 
 lady he rescued from the woods, when Zara, all 
 disguised, comes to his cell. She pretends to be 
 a slave, and tells Ernest that her mistress is the 
 lady he saved from the forest and that now she 
 would save him. But Ernest is brave and honor- 
 able, and he says: "It cannot be. Much as I love 
 my life, I love my honor more, and I am bound un- 
 
20 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 til my conqueror shall give back my plighted word 
 to seek no freedom till he shall bid me go." Zara 
 tells him: "If there be power in woman's grati- 
 tude, thou shalt yet be free, and with thine honor 
 yet imstained." Then as she starts to go her veil 
 falls, and Ernest sees that it is really the lovely 
 Zara, They have a mushy love-scene — I don't 
 know how John and I will ever do that — and 
 then Zara goes. The next day Bernardo brings 
 home the death-warrant for the prisoners — Ernest 
 among them. Zara begs him to yet save the 
 English lord, but he is a mean old cuss and he 
 won't Hsten to her at all. So that night she steals 
 the death-warrant from imder his pillow, and 
 when he wakes up the next morning it is "burnt 
 to ashes and scattered to the winds." Of course 
 Bernardo is mad as can be. Zara pleads and 
 begs for Ernesfs life, because Bernardo says it 
 doesn't matter about the old death-warrant any- 
 way, he'll chop off the prisoners' heads just the 
 same. But finally he agrees to spare Ernest if 
 Zara will swear by her dead mother's spirit never 
 to wed a man but of her own race. That is pretty 
 tough on Zara, but she is brave, so she swears, 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 21 
 
 and Ernest is saved. She goes to his cell and 
 tells him all about it, and they have another 
 mushy love-scene and then say good-by forever. 
 Zara says her heart is broken and she wishes she 
 was dead. So she "seeks out" Hernando, an old 
 priest, whom she hopes can comfort her. It is 
 a good thing she goes to him, for Hernando knows 
 the secret of her Hfe, and when she tells him all, 
 why, her troubles go away Hke a puff of smoke. 
 Hernando says she isn't Bernardo^s daughter at 
 all. Her father was an English lord and her 
 mother was a Moorish lady. They both died and 
 left her to him, and he took her to Bernardo to 
 raise, because Bernardo had been a friend of her 
 mother's. Zara is very happy, because now her 
 vow doesn't hold and she can marry Ernest if 
 she wants to. She goes home and finds a letter 
 from Ernest waiting for her. He tells her that 
 Bernardo is going to betray the city to the Span- 
 ish king, but instead of his Hfe and Hberty, which 
 the king has promised him, he will be slain. Er- 
 nest tells her to bid Bernardo flee and to go with 
 him. So Zara tells Bernardo that she knows he 
 isn't her father, and that he is an old traitor be- 
 
22 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 sides. He goes all to pieces and says: "Lost! 
 Lost! Fool that I was to trust the promise of 
 a king! Disgraced, dishonored, and betrayed! 
 Where find a friend to help me now?" Then 
 Zara, who is too noble to go off and leave him 
 taking on like that, says: "Here — ^in the child 
 who cHngs to thee through danger, treachery, 
 and death. Trust to the love of one whom once 
 thou loved, and who still longs to win thee back 
 to happiness and honor." So they fix it all up, and 
 Bernardo goes off to get ready to leave and Zara 
 is alone. A messenger comes from Ernest with a 
 letter teUing Zara the bearer will lead her to 
 safety. But Zara has promised to help Bernardo 
 escape, and she isn't the sort to go back on her 
 word. She says: "What shall I do? Oh, Ernest, 
 where art thou now?" And then the messenger, 
 who was Ernest all the time, throws off his dis- 
 guise and says: "Here, dearest Zara! Here at 
 thy feet to offer thee a true heart's fond devo- 
 tion." And so they do get each other after all, 
 and are married and Hve happy ever after. Only 
 first they get old Bernardo, and all leave together 
 for "another and a happier home." 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 23 
 
 Friday, February 24. 
 
 I have copied all my part, which was quite a 
 task. At first I wanted to copy all the play, but 
 Hal said there wasn't any sense to that, for all 
 you needed to do was to copy your own speeches 
 and the cues. Of course I didn't know what cues 
 were, but I kept quiet and waited till Hal showed 
 me how he had started to copy his part. Then 
 I found out that cues are the last words of the 
 speech that comes just before your own. You 
 write out three or four words, like this: 
 
 Ernest. . . . not trust me? 
 
 That is the cue for Zara^s next speech: 
 
 Zara. Ernest, thou knowest my heart is thine, 
 and that to thee I trust with joy my life and 
 happiness. No vow stands now between us. I 
 am thine. 
 
 Ernest. ... let me lead thee. 
 
 Zara. I come, etc. 
 
 Then when you learn the part you learn the 
 cues as well as your own lines, and that way you 
 know when your time comes to speak. 
 
24 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 I am afraid I shall never learn all Zara has to 
 say. She certainly did like to talk! — but then I 
 guess all girls and women are that way. Zara 
 does most of the talking in the play — and that is 
 forty-five pages long. Still, I can get things by 
 heart pretty easily. I just about know all of my 
 first act now. Ernest has the first speech, and 
 then he hears some one coming and hides. Zara 
 enters crying, and says: "Heaven shield me! 
 Whither shall I turn? Alone in this wild forest, 
 where may I find a friend to help. The dark 
 storm-cloud gathers and I am shelterless" — etc. 
 It's very fine writing. Jo and Meg were differ- 
 ent from most girls. But then Jo grew up and 
 wrote books, and there aren't many girls do that. 
 I wish I could have been a boy then instead of 
 now, and played the villain in their plays. 
 
 Next week we are to have rehearsals of the 
 play — the first three acts to begin on. Then if it 
 goes all right, we can begin to fix up the Bamville. 
 The weather is too cold now, but by the time we 
 are ready to give the play it will be warm enough. 
 Hal thinks we can give it Easter vacation. School 
 is out for a week then. I have it all marked off 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 25 
 
 on the calendar. Vacation begins Friday, March 
 31, and school starts again Monday, April 9. Hal 
 and Larry want us to give the play on Wednes- 
 day of vacation week. 
 
 Larry's cousin, Edgar Donovan, is in the High 
 School Dramatic Club. He is a senior this year. 
 Larry told him all about the Barnstormers, and he 
 has promised to help us some. He let Larry have 
 a book called "Hints to Amateur Thespians." 
 Larry showed it to us to-day at noon-hour. None 
 of us knew what Thespians meant, but the book 
 was all about giving plays in double parlors, and 
 how to make curtains and scenery, and so on. 
 I think the book will be quite a help to us. 
 
 That word Thespians made me curious, so I 
 looked it up in the big dictionary on teacher's 
 desk. That said it came from Thespis, founder 
 of the Greek drama, and that Thespians were 
 actors. 
 
 But I still wanted to know more, so at supper 
 I asked dad if he knew anything about Thespis. 
 He looked funny, and said something to mother, 
 and they both smiled. He told me to wait till 
 I was through supper, and then I could read about 
 
26 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 Thespis for myself. So we got the Sou-Vit vol- 
 ume of the encyclopaedia, and I found Thespis, 
 but it said to look under drama. So I got the 
 Chi-Ele volume. 
 
 That article on drama was full of terribly big 
 words, and had a lot of stuff in it I didn't under- 
 stand, but I managed to get a little out of it. 
 
 They had something Hke plays way back even 
 in Old Testament times, so this said, and then 
 when it came down to Greek times, the Greeks 
 had all sorts of plays. These plays started through 
 people singing in choruses. Thespis put speeches 
 in between the songs, so they call him the father 
 of Greek drama. Then nothing much happened 
 in a dramatic way during the Middle Ages until 
 about the twelfth century when the churches 
 began having httle plays at Easter time. These 
 were all about Christ's birth, and were part of 
 the service. After a while they began giving these 
 plays outside the church in the churchyard, and 
 they became so popular that they had them for 
 all the other holidays and saints' days. Then 
 people began to write Httle plays about Bible char- 
 acters, and these were given on wagons, like the 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 27 
 
 floats we have in parades to-day. Finally, real 
 theatres were built, and then Shakespeare came, 
 and he wrote real plays like the ones we have at 
 the present time. 
 
 Dad talked to me a lot about plays after I had 
 read that article on drama. He seemed to be 
 quite proud of me because I wanted to know 
 about such things. He promised that if I made 
 good grades at school and kept up my deport- 
 ment grade to where it ought to be, that the next 
 time he went to the city I should go along and 
 he would take me to the theatre. Wouldn't that 
 be great! 
 
 Sunday, February 26. 
 
 It's a nasty Sunday — rain and snow all mixed 
 up. I have a cold, and can't go out. Hal prom- 
 ised to come over, but he hasn't. 
 
 T have been reading the "Hints to Amateur 
 Thespians." I think it will help us quite a bit. 
 In the "Introductory Remarks," it says that, "It 
 must be understood that this work is intended 
 to aid where there are none of the facilities of a 
 theatre, to assist an intelligent Httle company 
 
28 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 who are forced to change a parlor, lodge room, or 
 other large apartment into a place of amusement 
 with a stage and its accessories." I reckon a 
 bam will serve just as well as a "parlor, lodge 
 room, or other large apartment"! We have the 
 inteUigent little company, anyway. 
 
 Then the "Hints" goes on to tell how to make 
 the curtain go up and down, and how to make 
 scenery, and a wind machine, and a thunder sheet, 
 and all sorts of things. The fimniest part is the 
 chapter "To the Stage-Manager." It says your 
 company should be divided into: 
 
 Male 
 Leading man. Juvenile man, 
 
 Heavy man. Old man and characters. 
 
 Light comedian, Walking gentleman, 
 Low comedian, Utility. 
 
 Female 
 Leading lady. Juvenile lady, 
 
 Soubrette and ingenue, Old lady. 
 
 Aren't those names funny? I understood what 
 the leading man was, but the "heavy" sounded 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 29 
 
 queer. It says later that he is the one who plays 
 the villain parts. So Hal is our "heavy." I 
 didn't know what the "walking gentleman" could 
 be, but it says he's an actor to whom you can 
 give responsible parts of any sort. Larry is our 
 "walking gentleman," I suppose. Of course, I 
 am the leading lady. He-haw! 
 
 Then the "Hints" tells all about rehearsals and 
 what you should do at them. First it says you 
 should have "reading rehearsals." Each person 
 reads from his own part. That is to help you be- 
 fore you begin to learn the lines. You can have 
 as many of these as you think necessary. I think 
 we will need four or five, at least. Then, when you 
 have learned your hues, you have regular re- 
 hearsals. Somebody acts as prompter, keeping the 
 play before him ready to tell you if you make a 
 mistake. When you start on these regular re- 
 hearsals you begin to work out your positions on 
 the stage, and you try to remember them, just as 
 you would your Knes. 
 
 Say, I am sure glad I had my hunch! We are 
 going to have more fun out of the Barnstormers 
 than anything we ever did before! 
 
CHAPTER III 
 
 Monday, February 27. 
 
 It is ten o'clock! I ought to be in bed, but we 
 have just finished a reading rehearsal of the play, 
 and I want to "write it up." 
 
 We did pretty well, I think, considering that 
 it was our first rehearsal. We each read from our 
 parts, and I kept the book before me to see that 
 we had the lines the same as they are there. It 
 took an hour to get through the play, and after 
 that we talked about our plans for another hour. 
 We never would have quit, I guess, if Mrs. Jame- 
 son hadn't called up mother by 'phone and asked 
 her to send Hal and John home. 
 
 Larry says he will not be stage-manager — ^he 
 
 doesn't like the things the stage-manager has to 
 
 do. Hal has agreed to take the job off his hands, 
 
 and Larry is to be property-man instead. The 
 
 "Hints to Amateur Thespians" tells all about the 
 
 property-man and what he has to do. He is 
 
 30 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 31 
 
 the one who looks after the properties, and the 
 properties are everything you use in the play, Kke 
 the keys Zara gets from Selim, and the scroll 
 with the death-warrant, and the necklace Bernardo 
 brings Zara, and so on, even to the furniture. 
 Who would ever think you would have to have 
 somebody just to look after little things hke those! 
 Still, if they weren't there at the right time you 
 couldn't go on with the show. 
 
 Before the reading rehearsal we had a meeting 
 of the Barnstormers' Dramatic Club. I asked 
 dad at supper how we ought to do, and he said 
 the meeting shoidd be run according to parKa- 
 mentary rules. That didn't mean much to me, 
 and I guess I showed my ignorance, for he went 
 on to explain all about it. A president has charge 
 of the meeting and calls it to order. Then if a 
 member wants to talk he says, "Mr. President!" 
 and if the president wants him to talk he says, 
 "Mr. So-and-so!" whatever the member's name 
 is, and then that member "has the floor," and 
 nobody can talk till he gets through. If you 
 want to vote on anything you must first make a 
 motion, which has to be seconded by another 
 
32 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 member, after which you vote, and if more people 
 are for it than against it, it is carried. 
 
 I had my doubts about us being able to run 
 a meeting according to parliamentary rules, but 
 John knew exactly how it should be done. He's 
 in the first year of high school and has been 
 attending the Senior Senate every Friday after- 
 noon. John said that if we'd start out he would 
 see that we kept going. 
 
 I sat behind the table and pounded on it with 
 a ruler to "bring the house to order,'' which is 
 what John said I should do. Then next we were 
 supposed to call the roll — only we had to make 
 out a roll and have a secretary. So Hal got up 
 and said: "Mr. President, I move Larry be sec- 
 retary." 
 
 John said that wasn't the way to do it, that he 
 must say: "Mr. President, I nominate Mr. Don- 
 ovan for secretary." 
 
 Then Hal said he didn't see what difference it 
 made, and John said he ought to see if he had any 
 brains. 
 
 I was afraid they would get into one of their 
 brotherly fights and stop the meeting, so I pounded 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 33 
 
 on the table for order and said: "Mr. Larry 
 Donovan has been nominated for secretary. Are 
 you ready to vote on him?" 
 
 They all said they were ready to vote, so we 
 passed out Httle sHps of paper and wrote yes or 
 no on them. There were three yeses and one 
 no — that was Larry's own vote, I suppose. It 
 isn't considered proper to ever vote for yourself. 
 
 Then John said I must announce that Mr. 
 Donovan had been elected secretary, so I did, 
 and he came up and sat on the opposite side of 
 the table. He made out a roll and called it, and 
 everybody answered "here," and then we were 
 ready to go on with the meeting. 
 
 John said Larry must keep the minutes of the 
 meeting, and Larry said he didn't see how he 
 could when he didn't have them. Then we all 
 laughed, and John said that the minutes were 
 the record of what happened during the meeting, 
 and that the secretary was supposed to write 
 them down while the meeting was going on. 
 
 So I gave Larry a sheet of paper to write the 
 minutes on, and Larry said he supposed he ought 
 to tick them out sixty seconds at a time; and then 
 
34 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 we all laughed again, and John said it was a rum 
 joke ; but Larry didn't get mad — ^just grinned like 
 he always does. 
 
 Hal said, "Let's drive on," so we did. 
 
 Then John said, "Mr. President," and I said, 
 "Mr. Jameson," just like I was supposed to do, 
 and he asked if he had the floor, and I said I 
 reckoned he did if he wanted it. Then John 
 looked important and began: "We should have 
 a constitution for the Barnstormers' Dramatic 
 Club, so I wish to present the following: 
 
 "Article One 
 "The name of this organization shall be known 
 as the Barnstormers' Dramatic Club. 
 
 "Article Two 
 "The purpose of the Barnstormers' Dramatic 
 Club is to give plays. 
 
 "Article Three 
 "When they wish, the charter members may 
 take other members into the club, but each new 
 member must be voted on by all the old members, 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 35 
 
 and all must be in favor of him before he can be 
 taken into the club. 
 
 "Article Four 
 "Each new member shall be required to pay 
 an initiation fee of twenty-five ceiits and monthly 
 dues of five cents. 
 
 "Article Five 
 "The membership is limited to ten. 
 
 "Article Six 
 "The money taken in at plays may be spent 
 as the members see fit. 
 
 "Article Seven 
 "Meetings shall be held every Monday night." 
 
 John stopped and looked around. "What do 
 you think of it? " he asked. 
 
 "Pretty good for a girl to do," said Larry. 
 
 John got red in the face and asked Larry what 
 he meant. 
 
 "Why," said Larry, "your sister Elizabeth did 
 most of it, didn't she?" 
 
36 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 John looked funny, and then he said we ought 
 to be glad she did, because she knew more about 
 it than all of us put together. 
 
 I said I thought John was right, and that we 
 ought to vote on the new constitution. 
 
 So we voted, and everybody was for it, and we 
 signed it, beginning with myself, like this: 
 
 "Robert Brewster Archer." 
 "Harold Jameson." 
 "John James Jameson." 
 "Lawrence Bartlett Donovan." 
 
 When we had all signed, Larry moved that we 
 adjourn, which is the way you say "Let's quit," 
 and we voted on it. Everybody was for adjourn- 
 ing, so the meeting came to a close, and we began 
 the reading rehearsal. That took about an hour, 
 and after that was over we spent another hour 
 talking about how we were going to fix up the 
 Bamville. 
 
 "We will have to have some money first," said 
 Larry. "How much do you suppose it will cost 
 us to buy stuff for the curtain and scenery?" 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 37 
 
 Hal said he had been figuring on that, and he 
 thought we could buy everything for three dol- 
 lars. 
 
 "Seventy-five cents from each one of us," I 
 said. 
 
 " Gee ! " said Larry. " That's a lot of money ! " 
 
 Hal went on to explain that he had been mak- 
 ing some measurements in the barn. He said 
 that if we made the stage opening ten feet wide 
 we could have it nine feet high. That would 
 mean that for the curtain we would need ten 
 yards of stuff a yard wide. Then we must have 
 a drop-curtain to use at the back of the stage. 
 That would have to be nearly as big as the other 
 one — say nine yards for it. Then we would need 
 six wings to use along the sides of the stage. They 
 would need to be three feet wide and six feet 
 high, and would take twelve yards of stuff. So, 
 adding it all up, we found we would have to buy 
 thirty-one yards of material. Hal thought we 
 could get it for five cents a yard, which would 
 make it cost us a dollar and fifty-five cents. 
 
 For the costumes we would have to buy more 
 material, and Hal thought we could get all of it 
 
38 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 for a dollar. We wouldn't need to buy any lights, 
 because we could get old lamps from home, and 
 the oil for them could come from home, too. But 
 there'd be sure to be other things we hadn't 
 counted on. 
 
 Larry started us on the parliamentary business 
 again by saying: '^Mr. President, I move we each 
 pay seventy-five cents into the treasury.'' 
 
 John seconded the motion, and we voted on it. 
 It was passed, because everybody voted yes. 
 But we decided not to pay in the money till we 
 have the play all ready and can begin work on 
 the Bamville. 
 
 Wednesday, March i. 
 
 We had another reading rehearsal this after- 
 noon. It went better. But Larry was so funny! 
 Larry is always funny. He was just made that 
 way — with a grin that won't come off. 
 
 The first thing I can remember about Larry is 
 that grin. The day I started to school — ^we had 
 just moved here that August and I started in 
 September — Larry sat in front of me. I was 
 scared because I didn't know anybody, and I felt 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 39 
 
 lonesome. The teacher put some letters on the 
 board and pointed to an A and asked me what 
 letter it was — did I know? I said, "Yes'm, it 
 was A." Then she asked me where it came in 
 the alphabet, and I said I didn^t know — because 
 I had learned to read by asking what printed words 
 meant, and then by pointing out letters and ask- 
 ing anybody who would tell me what they were. 
 I hadn't learned the alphabet in order at all. So 
 I told the teacher it was just A, and that was all. 
 Then they laughed at me, and I wanted to cry, 
 but Larry turned around and grinned real friendly- 
 like, and I grinned back, and everything was all 
 right, because I knew we were friends. 
 
 Larry never could read well, so it's funny to 
 hear him read his part. He reads it all in one 
 tone — not one word any different from the others, 
 and with a funny little pause in between each one. 
 Like this (which is one of SelinCs speeches to 
 Zara): "Lady — thou — hast — made — a — 
 slave's — life — happy — by — thy — care — and 
 
 — through — the — long — years — I — have 
 
 — served — thee — hast — never — bid — me 
 
 — do — aught — that — was — not — right." 
 
40 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 It does sound funny, but he will do better when he 
 has learned the lines. 
 
 Hal is just the opposite. He gets his lines out 
 so fast that you can scarcely tell when he is 
 through, for you think he surely can't have 
 reached the end in such a short time. 
 
 John reads his off in real actor style — ^very im- 
 pressive and dignified and fine. He is going to 
 make a good hero, all right. 
 
 I try to say mine like I think a girl would — ^but 
 it isn't easy! My voice has begun to change, so 
 I can't tell what it is going to do next. One time 
 it's real ladylike, and the next minute it sounds 
 hke a bass viol. I know that if I come out and 
 say, "Heaven help me," way up high, and then 
 finish up "whither shall I turn," way down low, 
 that everybody will roar. But I simply can't 
 help it. 
 
 We haven't told anybody about the Barn- 
 stormers yet — except our own famihes, of course. 
 We are planning to keep it all a secret until a week 
 before the play, and then Hal will tell all about 
 it in the GimleL 
 
 The Gimlet is Hal's newspaper. He has a press 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 41 
 
 that his Uncle Jim, who owns a big paper in Chi- 
 cago, gave him, and he prints the Gimlet on it 
 every week. It costs five cents a month, or two 
 cents a copy. He has fifty subscriptions and 
 sells several extra copies every week, but he doesn't 
 make any money, because it takes all that the 
 paper brings in to buy ink and the other things 
 he must have to get it out. And then some peo- 
 ple don't pay their subscriptions either! Mr. 
 Wharton, who is editor of the Jordan Blade — 
 that's the paper here in town — copies from the 
 Gimlet every week and calls it "our leading ju- 
 venile journal," and he gives Hal old type and 
 old cuts to run, and helps him lots of ways. 
 Some day Hal is going to grow up and own a 
 paper Hke his uncle in Chicago. 
 
 When Hal prints the Gimlet for March 24, he 
 will fill it up with the story of " The Captive of 
 Castile," and the cast, and all about the Barn- 
 stormers. Then before the play comes off we will 
 print some bills, and take those around all over 
 town to the people we know. We do not want 
 any strangers at our show because they might 
 make trouble. We aren't going to sell any tickets , 
 
42 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 to the West-Enders because they would make 
 trouble sure. They have been sore ever since the 
 East-End beat them in football last fall and 
 Larry played on the East-End team. 
 
 We are to have printed tickets with a little 
 blank to fill in with the number of the seat. All 
 the seats will be reserved, just Hke they are at 
 the Masonic Hall for the lecture course. 
 
 Oh, the Barnstormers are going to have some 
 show! 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 
 Sunday, March 5. 
 
 Yesterday was a fine, warm day, so we had a 
 rehearsal in the Barnville. Of course it isn't any- 
 thing but a barn now, but we call it the Barn- 
 ville, because that is to be the name of it when 
 it is made into a theatre. 
 
 The rehearsal was our first without using parts. 
 We went through three of the eight scenes. We 
 marked off the size of the stage and the entrances 
 with chalk, and used a soap box for a chair. The 
 *^ Hints to Amateur Thespians'' says you should 
 "rehearse as soon as possible, and as many times 
 as possible, on the stage where your play is to be 
 given." We are trying to follow instructions. 
 
 When you begin to rehearse without parts it 
 seems much more Hke a play. But all sorts of 
 things you never thought of before come up. 
 First of all you must find out which side you 
 
 43 
 
44 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 come in from, and then you must know just 
 where you are to be for every speech, and just 
 what you are to do. You can^t stand and say 
 your lines as if you were a wooden Indian. You 
 have to act — and it isn't easy. But it comes 
 easier than you would think. Somehow, when 
 you get the swing of the thing, you just act with- 
 out thinking much about it. 
 
 In "The Captive of Castile" there are never 
 more than two people on the stage at one time, 
 and that makes the play much easier for us. The 
 book says that the plays were written so that Jo 
 and Meg could take all the parts, and because of 
 that you never have more than two characters 
 appearing at once. Jo took all the male parts 
 and Meg took all the female parts. If two male 
 characters came in one scene, Jo would change 
 from one to the other while Meg said a long speech. 
 I think, though, it is better to divide the parts 
 up as we have done, because then no one has so 
 much to learn. 
 
 Giving plays is great fim. We had a perfect 
 circus yesterday, because we all felt funny, and 
 we put funny lines into our parts. John said we 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 45 
 
 shouldn't do it, that it wasn't the thing to do 
 at all. I suppose it isn't. But we can't be seri- 
 ous all the time; and Hal was so funny that 
 even John had to laugh. 
 
 The fun started in the second scene. John 
 doesn't come in that scene at all, so he sat down 
 in front of us and kept the book before him to 
 prompt. Hal and I start the scene, and then 
 later Larry comes in as Selim. 
 
 I had the first speech. I said that right. It 
 is all about how Zara longs to see Ernest again. 
 Those two surely had a case of love at first sight, 
 because they just couldn't forget each other. 
 Why, Zara didn't seem to think about anything 
 but seeing Ernest again. And Ernest was just 
 the same way about Zara. 
 
 Well, after Zara has told all about how she 
 longs to see the noble English stranger, Ber- 
 nardo — Hal — comes in. He is supposed to say: 
 "Joyful tidings, Zara! Grenada is free. Here, 
 love, are gems for thee. They have shone on 
 many a fair lady's neck, but none more fair than 
 thine." 
 
 What he really said was something like this: 
 
46 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 " Halloo, kid ! Come kiss papa ! Cheer up ! The 
 country's saved. Here, little one, are some gum- 
 drops — " and he reached in his pocket and brought 
 out a pink one and put it in my mouth. But that 
 was all the further he got with the speech. John 
 was yelling at him to stop, and Larry was on his 
 back in a pile of hay laughing till the tears rolled 
 down his face. I sat down on the soap box and 
 laughed till I choked on the gum-drop. John 
 couldn't help himself and laughed too. 
 
 Hal was the only serious one of the bunch. 
 "Well, what's the matter?" he asked. "Nothing 
 funny to that. I just couldn't think of my first 
 speech, so I fixed it up to suit myself." 
 
 After we had all laughed till we couldn't laugh 
 any more, and they had pounded me in the back 
 to get the gum-drop out of my Sunday throat, 
 we went back to the beginning and started the 
 scene all over. This time we did it right, be- 
 cause Hal was serious and said his Unes as they 
 were written. Everything went well imtil Hal 
 was ready to make his exit. He is supposed to 
 say "Adieu, love; I must to the council." I 
 am sure I don't know what made him do it, but 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 47 
 
 what he really said was "Adieu, love; I must 
 to the pig-pen!" 
 
 Of course, that broke up the show again. But 
 we went back a few speeches and did the finish 
 right, and so John was satisfied. 
 
 After Bernardo leaves, Selim comes in. Of 
 course, Larry thought he must do something funny, 
 too, since everybody else had tried it. But he 
 couldn't think of any funny fines to put in place 
 of the real ones, so he just said some of those so 
 they sounded funny. John didn't like it, be- 
 cause he thinks we should do the whole thing very 
 seriously. Of course, he is right, but we have to 
 have a fittle fun as we go along. 
 
 When my last speech came I tried to be serious. 
 It goes: "Oh, Ernest, Ernest! Thy brave heart 
 shall pine no longer. Another hour, and thou 
 art free. Chains cannot bind, nor donjons hold, 
 when woman's love and gratitude are thine." 
 But Larry and Hal spoiled it for me. They both 
 pretended to be shedding tears in their handker- 
 chiefs, and then wrung them out as if they were 
 soaked with water. No one could be serious with 
 all that going on. 
 
48 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 The third scene is in Ernesfs cell. John said 
 his first speech in real actor style, and Hal and 
 Larry hstened without bothering him. Then I 
 came in. At first Ernest thinks Zara is a slave 
 girl and the servant of the lovely lady he res- 
 cued from the forest. Then, when she turns to 
 go, her veil falls, and he sees that it is none other 
 than Zara herself. Of course Ernest and Zara 
 have to have a love-scene then — ^it just couldn't 
 be prevented. Well, John and I tried to do the 
 love-making as we thought it should be done, 
 but we couldn't, because Hal and Larry made 
 noises like kisses, and giggled and snickered. 
 
 I thought the whole business was funny, too, 
 and I wanted to laugh, but John was mad. He 
 told them they didn't know how to behave at 
 all — they carried on just like little kids in the pri- 
 mary grades, and he didn't know what would 
 ever happen to them when they got into high 
 school and had to act grown-up and civilized. 
 
 Then they behaved for a while, and we finished 
 the scene. But we were all ready for some fun, 
 so we gave a show that we made up as we went 
 along. 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 49 
 
 It was a Western drama — like one that came 
 here to the Opera House once. We decided that 
 I should be the heroine, so as to get in practice, 
 and, of course, John was the hero and Hal the 
 villain, while Larry was to play several characters. 
 We planned what we were to do in each act 
 before we gave it. 
 
 The first act was in a mining-camp. We put 
 the soap box to mark where the hotel was — there 
 always is a hotel in mining-camps in shows, Hal 
 says. Then we needed something for a stage- 
 coach, because you have to have a stage-coach 
 and a hold-up in a Western drama, or it wouldn't 
 be one. So we got my little old express-wagon, 
 which was down-stairs in one of the stalls. 
 
 The show started with three miners — Tender- 
 foot Ted, the hero, played by John; Pizen Pete, 
 a greaser, who was the villain, and acted by 
 Hal; and Hold-up Harry, a friend of Pizen Pete's, 
 played by Larry. 
 
 Pizen Pete and Hold-up Harry are planning to 
 carry off Susie, the Fairest Flower of the Rockies, 
 who is the heroine of the play. They are sitting 
 on the porch of the hotel — which means they 
 
50 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 were sitting on the soap box — ^and talking about 
 how they can get away with Susie. Pizen Pete has 
 found out that Susie^ the Fairest Flower of the 
 Rockies, has the deed to a mine that has never 
 been any good, but is going to make her fortune 
 right away, because he has found a place in it 
 where you can dig out the pure gold by the 
 shovelful. Only Susie doesn't know this, so 
 Pizen Pete is going to marry her, and get the deed, 
 and then leave her to wander an outcast and 
 alone. But Tenderfoot Ted overhears their vil- 
 lainous plans, because he is hiding in a barrel, 
 and so he comes up and says: 
 
 "Villains, you shall not have the lovely maid. 
 On the honor of a gentleman, I shall defend her 
 with my poor life!'' 
 
 Then Pizen Pete and Hold-up Harry draw their 
 guns and say they will kill Tenderfoot Ted, be- 
 cause "Dead men tell no tales." Only the 
 Sherif — that's me, because I wasn't Susie, the 
 Fairest Flower of the Rockies, yet — comes up 
 and tells them to leave town at once, or they 
 will be hung. 
 
 So they have to go, but Pizen Pete says to Ten- 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 51 
 
 derfoot Ted: "You — you — ^you t-t-tenderfoot-t-t! 
 I— I'U get-t-t you yet-t-t-t-t!" 
 
 But the Sheriff says, "Go!" and stands point- 
 ing south till they are out of sight. 
 
 After that I went off as the Sheriffs and waited 
 for Tenderfoot Ted to say a long speech about 
 "Will I ever see this lovely flower, she they call 
 the Fairest Flower of the Rockies? Ah, lovely 
 Susan! Little dost thou know what a noble heart 
 beats beneath my flannel shirt! Little dost thou 
 know that I am the Lord of Grenville in disguise! 
 Yet, lovely Susan, thou fairest flower, I would 
 make thee mistress of my title and my lands, 
 though I have never looked upon thy loveliness!'' 
 
 Then I came in as Susie, Fairest Flower of 
 the Rockies. 
 
 Susie says: "WTio can yonder stranger be? He 
 is new to this rough life, and yet, methinks, a noble 
 heart beats beneath his tenderfoot outside. How- 
 dy-do, sir?" 
 
 Then Tenderfoot Ted looks at her, and knows 
 that she could be none other than herself. So 
 he says: "Is she real, or do my eyes deceive me? 
 Lovely maid, a thousand pardons, but are you 
 
52 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 not Susie, whom men call Fairest Flower of the 
 Rockies?" 
 
 She says she is, and he tells her his name, and 
 then they are acquainted. He tells her about 
 the plots of Pizen Pete and Hold-up Harry to rob 
 her of her mine. 
 
 "Those men will stop at nothing!" says Susie. 
 "Oh, Theodore, I am afraid!" 
 
 "Do not fear, dearest," he says. "Naught 
 shall harm you while my strong arm isn't broken." 
 
 "My brave hero!" she cries, and throws her- 
 self into his arms. Then the curtain goes 
 down — only this time there was none to go. 
 
 The scene of the second act is a pass in the 
 mountains. Pizen Pete and Hold-up Harry come 
 in, planning to hold up the stage-coach. They 
 know that Tenderfoot Ted and Susie, the Fairest 
 Flower of the Rockies, are in the stage-coach 
 going to look at Susie^s mine, because Tender- 
 foot Ted is a mining engineer, hke HaFs and John's 
 grown-up brother, and he can tell whether the 
 mine will pay or not. 
 
 Pizen Pete and Hold-up Harry hide behind some 
 rocks — soap box again — and wait for the stage- 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 53 
 
 coach to come. They talk about what they will 
 do with Susie^s money when it is theirs, and how 
 they will get even with Tenderfoot Ted, At last 
 the stage-coach comes. (John and I sat astrad- 
 dle of the wagon and pushed it with our feet.) 
 As the stage-coach gets near the rocks, up pop 
 the villains with guns levelled at the heads of their 
 innocent victims. But Tenderfoot Ted is a real 
 hero, and Susie, Fairest Flower of the Rockies, 
 is a heroine of nerve and bravery. 
 
 "No!" cries Tenderfoot Ted, "NO! ViUains, 
 you shall not have the lovely Susan while Kfe 
 remains in my body. Take that and THAT ! " and 
 he shoots them dead, while Susie screams bloody 
 murder. 
 
 In the last act Lord and Lady Grenville — our 
 former friends, Susie, Fairest Flower of the 
 Rockies, and Tenderfoot Ted, the fearless hero, 
 have built a palace at the mining-camp, and live 
 there in the summer, but spend the rest of the 
 year in Lord Grenville's castle in England. Only 
 the mining-camp isn't a mining-camp any more. 
 It has grown up to be a big city, with electric 
 lights and trolley-cars and prominent citizens. 
 
S4 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 Two of these last are Pizen Pete and Hold-up 
 Harry, who weren't killed, after all, and have 
 reformed and become millionaires. And so every- 
 body lives happy ever after. 
 
 I guess we made a lot of noise in that act where 
 the villains hold up the stage-coach, because Mrs. 
 Strong, who lives next door to us and has nerves, 
 called mother on the telephone and asked who 
 was being murdered in our bam. 
 
 Wednesday, March 8. 
 
 We had another rehearsal after school this after- 
 noon. We know our parts through the fourth 
 scene now. That is doing pretty well, I think. 
 Anyway, we feel siu-e that the play will really be 
 given, so we are planning to buy the cambric for 
 the curtain and scenery on Friday afternoon, and 
 on Saturday make the barn into the Bamville. 
 
 We have each paid seventy-five cents into the 
 treasury, so we have three dollars to buy the cur- 
 tain, scenery, and costumes. Each of us made the 
 money by doing some sort of work. Larry took 
 Jean Andrew's paper route for a week while Jean 
 was sick. Hal did some "job "-printing on his 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 55 
 
 press, and John did some typewriting, which he 
 does very nicely, for some of the seniors in high 
 school. I am washing dishes for a week. Moth- 
 er's hired girl left, and we will not have the new 
 one till next Monday. 
 
 The weather is fine, and the newspaper says 
 that some man by the name of Ricks, who is a 
 weather prophet out in Kansas, prophesies an 
 early spring. I hope the old fraud is right this 
 once. But it is warm enough now for us to use 
 the Bamville for rehearsals. So, as I said, we are 
 going Friday afternoon to the Bee Hive store, 
 which is the biggest dry-goods store in town, and 
 buy the stuff for our curtain and scenery. Hal 
 went there yesterday to look at the goods. We 
 can get cambric a yard wide for five cents. They 
 have it in all colors. We have decided on dark 
 brown for the front curtain, gray for the back 
 drop, and dark green for the wings. 
 
 I didn't quite understand what the wings were, 
 but Hal got the "Hints to Amateur Thespians," 
 and explained them to me yesterday. The wings 
 are single Uttle screens three feet wide and six 
 feet high. You put three on each side. They 
 
56 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 are set front side to the audience, but turned so 
 that they slant a little toward the back drop. 
 They are placed about three feet apart, leaving 
 a space for the actors to go in and out. 
 
 We need quite a few long, narrow strips of wood 
 to use in making the frames for the wings, and 
 for various other uses about the Barnville, so 
 Larry and John are going to the planing-mill to- 
 morrow and get a quarter's worth of edgings. 
 Edgings are what they cut off the edges of boards 
 when they plane them, and are nice, long strips, 
 just a bit rough on one side. 
 
 Well, I guess we really are going to give a 
 show! And have a theatre, too! All I can say 
 is that I am glad. We never have had so much 
 fun out of anything before — tree-houses, caves in 
 the clay-bank, the fort in the lime-kiln, or any- 
 thing at all! 
 
CHAPTER V 
 
 Sunday, March 12. 
 
 We have done a great deal in the last few days. 
 The Barnville is almost a theatre. Of course, it 
 hasn't lights nor seats yet, but it has a curtain 
 now, and scenery, and those go a long way to- 
 ward making it seem hke a real theatre. 
 
 We bought the cambric for the curtain and 
 scenery Friday afternoon after school. We all 
 went together to the Bee Hive store, and Hal, 
 who had been there before to look at the stuff, 
 did the buying. We had figured out just how 
 much we needed, and knew the colors we wanted, 
 and all, so we went right to Miss Peterson, whose 
 mother does sewing at our house sometimes, and 
 she waited on us. 
 
 She was quite interested when we began to 
 buy all those yards and yards of cambric, and of 
 course she wanted to know what it was all for. 
 So we told her we were going to give a play in 
 
 57 
 
58 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 a real theatre we were making out of our bam, 
 and she was more interested than ever, and we 
 had to tell her all about it. 
 
 Then Mr. Vamer came along — ^he's a man clerk, 
 and manager, or something Uke that, of the store. 
 He looks as if he had just got a bad pain in his 
 stomach. He wanted to know of Miss Peterson 
 why she was wasting so much time on a bunch 
 of kids when there were customers waiting; and 
 she said she guessed she wasn^t wasting it, we 
 were buying a lot of stuff; and then he looked 
 as if the pain in his stomach had grown much 
 worse, and he turned around and went off with- 
 out saying anything. 
 
 When he was gone we all laughed, and Miss 
 Peterson laughed and made a face after him. 
 
 Hal said. Gee, he was a crummy one ; and 
 Miss Peterson laughed, and said she guessed Hal 
 had it down right, and some folks were just natch- 
 ully bom with mean dispositions, and it was awful 
 what a lady in a store had to put up with. 
 
 While she was measuring out those thirty-one 
 yards of cambric we told her all about "The Cap- 
 tive of Castile," and who was going to play the 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 59 
 
 different parts, and how we were planning to fix 
 up the Barnville. 
 
 She said it was just too cute for anything, and 
 she and her ma would surely come to see the 
 play. She said she thought I would make an 
 awfully sweet girl — and I got red in the face, and 
 we all laughed. 
 
 Well, finally she did the cambric up in three 
 big bundles, and we started off home with it. 
 
 When we came out of the store. Hen Perkins, 
 one of that West-End gang, saw us, and said to 
 Pete McGann, who is another West-Ender: 
 "Look, Pete, the Httle darHngs have been shop- 
 ping for their mammas." 
 
 Hal and Larry were for stopping right there 
 and cleaning up the pair, but John said no, it 
 wasn't the thing to do, that fighting on the pub- 
 lic square was bad form. Which was true, but 
 I wish we'd had that pair in the Barnville! 
 
 Hal said, loud enough for them to hear, that he 
 should think that as long as our End could put it 
 all over a certain football team, that certain par- 
 ties ought not to get too smart. 
 
 Something might have happened, only Timmy 
 
6o THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 McManus came along just then. He's the town 
 marshal, and he had on his new uniform with 
 brass buttons down the front and a big star on 
 the breast. Pete and Hen turned their backs 
 and began pointing to the fish that is the weather- 
 vane on top of the court-house, and we went on 
 down the street. 
 
 When we reached home we took our bundles 
 to the kitchen, where mother helped us cut the 
 brown cambric into three ten-foot lengths. Then 
 we took it up to the sewing room, and she showed 
 us how to run the straight seams on the sewing- 
 machine, and stayed with us till we had the two 
 long seams all done. Then she said we must hem 
 the edges, so that they wouldn't ravel out, and 
 we did that. It was supper time when we had 
 finished the hems, so we couldn't do any more. 
 
 That evening I went over to Hal's and John's, 
 and Larry came over, too, and we talked about 
 how we would fix the curtain to pull up and 
 down. 
 
 The "Hints to Amateur Thespians" shows 
 three ways you can do it, but we figured out still 
 a better way for the Barnville. 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 6i 
 
 The next morning — Saturday — Hal came over 
 as soon as he had had breakfast, and we sewed 
 the seams in the back drop. 
 
 We had just finished when John and Larry 
 came. They had been down-town buying a ball 
 of heavy cord, some small brass rings, and four 
 pulleys, all of which we needed for the curtain. 
 
 We wanted to see it up so badly that we could 
 hardly wait; so we hurried down to the bam and 
 started to work. 
 
 But it took us all the rest of the morning to 
 get that curtain in working order. First we 
 found we had no tacks, and I couldn't find any 
 at the house; so Larry had to go home for them. 
 Then sewing on the brass rings took a long time. 
 We had to sew on four rows of them, with twelve 
 rings to each row. Putting them on was a good 
 deal like work. Each of us sewed a row, and we 
 ran a race to see who could get his row on first. 
 Each ring had to be sewed on good and tight, 
 and at just the right place. Not being girls, we 
 couldn't sew well. I stuck my fingers till they 
 bled, and John had a worse time yet and said 
 several things he should not have said. 
 
62 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 Finally we did get them all sewed on though — 
 a row up each side, and two rows, three feet 
 apart, up the middle. Hal came out ahead in 
 the race, but John said he hadn't sewed his rings 
 on tight enough, and they nearly had a scrap. 
 
 We marked either side of the stage opening, 
 which is about nine and a half feet wide, with 
 strips of edging, which run up to a beam nine 
 feet from the floor. That makes our stage open- 
 ing nine and a half by nine feet. The spaces at 
 either side we intend to fill in with old wall- 
 paper, or some old curtains. 
 
 From the beam above the stage, and just inside 
 the two strips running to the floor, we stretched 
 two heavy wires, one on each side, and threaded 
 them through the two rows of rings on the out- 
 side edges of the curtain. Meanwhile, Hal got 
 a step-ladder and cHmbed up to where he could 
 tack the top edge of the curtain to the beam. 
 Then we cut the heavy cord into two equal lengths 
 and tied one to each of the bottom rings of the 
 inside rows, running the cords on up through the 
 rings to the top of the curtain. Hal was up on 
 the step-ladder putting the pulleys in place while 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 63 
 
 we were fixing the cords, so that by the time we 
 had that done, he was ready to put the cords 
 through the pulley-wheels. 
 
 We were all as excited as if that curtain was 
 the first one ever hung. Hal jumped down from 
 the ladder and took the two cord ends in his 
 hands. He pulled — and the curtain went up! 
 It looped itself into nice folds, and looked so fine 
 we all cheered. I think we never realized what 
 the Barnstormers meant to all of us till we saw 
 that curtain go up ! 
 
 We pulled it up and let it down a dozen times, 
 and patted each other on the back, and were just 
 crazy — we were so happy. 
 
 Then Hal put up the other two pulleys at the 
 back of the stage so that the curtain could be 
 worked from back there, and when we got that 
 done, we each had to try working the curtain 
 again. Three of us would sit out in front, and 
 the other fellow would work the curtain from 
 behind, so that we could all see how it looked. 
 
 We were going to give another show Hke the 
 Western play we gave last Saturday, because we 
 wanted to see how a show would go when we had 
 
64 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 a real curtain to raise and lower. Only, just 
 when we were going to start on the first act, the 
 noon whistles blew and we all had to hurry home 
 to dinner. 
 
 We were back by a quarter of one. We just 
 couldn't stay away. The first thing we did was 
 to put up the back drop. That was easy, for we 
 tacked it to a cross-beam, and that was all we had 
 to do. But when it came to the wings, we had 
 quite a Httle job ahead of us. 
 
 We intended at first to make a frame for each 
 wing and cover it with the cloth. But Larry 
 had an idea that saved us a great deal of work, 
 and made it possible to get the wings in place 
 much sooner than if we had made the frames as 
 we originally intended. He said that all we 
 needed to do was to put a strip three feet wide at 
 the top, and another one the same width at the 
 bottom, and then hang the wings from a wire 
 stretched tight along the side of the stage from 
 front to back. If we needed to do so, we could 
 nail the bottom strip of each wing to the floor, 
 or we could leave it free so that it could be rolled 
 up out of the way when not in use. 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 65 
 
 We all thought Larry's idea a good one, and 
 so decided not to make frames for the wings. 
 Of course we were able to get them up in half 
 the time. By three o'clock we had all of them in 
 place. They made the stage-setting complete — 
 except for one thing. We needed what the 
 "Hints" calls a sky border — a strip of cloth to 
 hang overhead across the stage, and to look Hke 
 the ceiHng, or the sky, as the case might be. Also, 
 in the Barnville, a sky border will serve to hide 
 the rafters, and the ropes that work the curtain. 
 
 But we were all too tired to bother with it then, 
 so we sat around admiring the Barnville, and 
 finally rehearsed the acts of the play we knew, 
 just to see how they would go on our real stage 
 with its real scenery and curtain. 
 
 Of course, we did much better than ever before. 
 We felt that we had to do better. Our show will 
 have to live up to the Barnville. 
 
 None of us have been able to stay away from 
 the Barnville to-day. I went down after din- 
 ner this afternoon, and I hadn't been there long 
 till Hal came, and then Larry, and then John. We 
 just sat around and talked the whole afternoon. 
 
66 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 We talked about how we could improve the 
 Barnville later on when we had made some money 
 from plays, and about what other plays we could 
 give, and how we would light the stage, and the 
 properties we would use in the different acts of 
 "The Captive of Castile." We were all surprised 
 when it began to get dark outside, and we knew 
 it was time to go home. 
 
 Tuesday, March 14. 
 
 Rehearsals are going much better now that we 
 have a regular stage. We are more serious about 
 our rehearsing, too. Hal got a book in the li- 
 brary that tells something about acting, and we 
 have all read parts of it, and are trying to do some 
 of the things it says. Of course, it's a terribly 
 hard book to understand, for us, at least, but I 
 think it has helped us some. 
 
 It talks about "getting under the skin" of a 
 character, and "intensifying real life for the pur- 
 poses of art," and other things that are beyond 
 me. 
 
 Hal made up his mind he would understand 
 some of it, though, so he took the book to one of 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 67 
 
 the English teachers in the high school — a fellow 
 his brother knew in college — and this Mr. Scotney 
 explained a lot of it, and told Hal lots of other 
 things about acting, too. Now Hal thinks he 
 knows a great deal about it, and I suppose he 
 does. 
 
 He says that we must do a lot of things when 
 we act if we want the audience to enjoy our act- 
 ing. We must be careful to say our lines in a 
 way that will make them sound as if they came 
 from the inside of us, and weren't just learned 
 and said off. And then we have to try to feel 
 just as we think the person we are supposed to be 
 would feel when the things that happen in the 
 play happen to him. Besides that there is a great 
 deal more that I don't remember. 
 
 But it looks as though we were going to give a 
 real play and be real amateur Thespians! Who 
 would ever have thought we could? All our 
 fathers and mothers are interested, and some of 
 the other people in the neighborhood, too. I 
 guess we will have a crowd all right when the time 
 comes for our play. 
 
 None of the other boys at school have seen the 
 
68 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 Bamville yet. We don't want them bothering 
 around. John and Hal and Larry and I have been 
 such good friends always that we haven't many 
 real good friends besides, so there aren't many 
 fellows we want aroimd when we are making a 
 theatre and getting ready to give a play. Later, 
 just before vacation, Hal says he is going to ask 
 up several of the boys and show them the Barn- 
 ville. He thinks it will be a good advertisement 
 for the show. We are going to give a school- 
 children's matinee, just Uke the shows that come 
 to the Opera House. It will bring in a little money 
 and be good practice. We will charge just two 
 cents for the matin6e, but the evening prices will 
 be five. 
 Three weeks now imtil the show! 
 
CHAPTER VI 
 
 Sunday, March 19. 
 
 Busy days! But we are having the time of 
 our lives. I never had so much fun out of any- 
 thing as I am having out of the Barnstormers. 
 
 Some of the costumes are all ready now, and 
 they are quite fine, and we look very fine in them, 
 too. John has a doublet made of red cambric 
 slashed with yellow, and a yellow tunic to go 
 with it that is trimmed in red. Then he wears 
 an old black-velvet cape that he found at home 
 in the attic. He says he thinks it was his Aunt 
 Ella's — she died — ^but he guesses it isn't haunted. 
 His rig is completed by a very fine sword that be- 
 longs to his father. It is a Knight Templar sword, 
 I think, or else Knights of Pythias, or some- 
 thing like that. For tights he wears long black 
 stockings — I nearly forgot to mention those. His 
 make-up is fine. He has a little mustache that 
 
 glues on, and also a little goatee for his chin. He 
 
 69 
 
70 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 has a "Tarn o' Shanter" cap made out of red 
 stuff and ornamented with an old ostrich-plume. 
 He is very heroic when he gets all of his costume 
 on, and struts about saying his Unes. 
 
 Hal wears black because he's the villain. The 
 villains in plays that come to the Opera House al- 
 ways wear black and smoke cigarettes. Of course, 
 Hal doesn't smoke, but he wears black, and has 
 a droopy black mustache, and hisses when he 
 speaks. His doublet and tunic are of black cam- 
 bric, and he wears black stockings for tights just 
 as John does. Then, since he and John are never 
 on at the same time, he wears the black velvet 
 cape that goes with John's costume. 
 
 Larry has two costiunes — one for Selim and 
 one for Hernando. As Selim, he wears a doublet 
 and timic of gray cambric with black stockings 
 for tights. Hernando is a priest, and we had 
 some trouble in finding how to fix him up. Larry 
 was for asking Father O'Connor to give us one 
 of his old robes, but, since none of us belongs to 
 his church, we thought better of doing it. Any- 
 way, I don't suppose priests dressed then like 
 they do now. We didn't quite know what to do 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 71 
 
 about it, but mother said she thought she could 
 make us the right sort of a robe for Hernando, 
 so we left it to her. It is made out of brown 
 burlap and has a hood that can be pulled down 
 almost over your face or thrown back like the 
 hood to a golf cape. Around the waist it is tied 
 with a piece of rope, and from this hangs a string 
 of wooden beads with a wooden crucifix on one 
 end. Mother said he should wear sandals, but 
 we haven't been able to fix those yet. 
 
 Larry says he is sure he will grin all the time, 
 and he doesn't think that will go very well with 
 being a priest. Still, everybody who knows Larry 
 will know he just can't help grinning, and let it 
 go at that. 
 
 I nearly forgot my own costume! It's quite 
 the finest of the lot, too. Mother made me a 
 dress out of that old party dress of Aunt Meta's 
 I spoke of before. It is blue satin and has a 
 long train that I fall over when I walk. Hal 
 says I'll have to practise a lot or everybody will 
 laugh at me. I don't care. They know I'm not 
 a girl, an)rway, just as they know Larry can't 
 help grinning, and they won't expect me to trail 
 
72 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 around in a long train just as if I'd done it all 
 my life! When I^m lost in the woods in the first 
 act I wear a dark-red kimono over my blue dress 
 and have on a black scarf that almost hides my 
 face. Then in one act, the one where I steal the 
 death-warrant from under Bernardo^s pillow, I 
 wear a nightgown with the red kimono over it. 
 When I go to Ernesfs cell disguised as a slave 
 girl I am to wear a pink dress of some sort of 
 cotton stuff. Mother is making it for me out 
 of an old dress of hers. Then I wear a veil in 
 that act, too. It doesn't come all over my face — 
 just across my nose, like those in the pictures 
 you see of Turkish ladies. It has to be fixed so 
 that it will fall off when I turn to leave, and we 
 are going to have a string underneath that I can 
 pull to make the veil fall. 
 
 I have a wig, too! We were going to make it 
 out of brown burlap ravelled out, but mother had 
 a lot of old combings, and we washed those and 
 straightened them out and sewed them on to a 
 little pink skull-cap made just to fit my head. 
 
 We are going to make up our faces, too, just 
 like they do in plays at the Opera House. You 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 73 
 
 put black lines under your eyelashes and a little 
 red on your lips and cheeks, and if you're sup- 
 posed to be old you make some lines for wrinkles. 
 
 Hal and I tried making up yesterday afternoon. 
 We used our water-color paints — they are the kind 
 that say "non-poisonous" on the box — and we 
 fixed ourselves up as we thought we should look 
 in the play. Hal put a great deal of black around 
 his eyes, so that they looked quite simken and 
 bright. I put Hght lines of black imder my lashes 
 and lots of red on my lips and cheeks. We did 
 look funny! But when we stood off and looked 
 at each other the effect was fine — at least Hal 
 looked just like I should think a villain ought, 
 and he said I was quite the proper thing for a 
 leading lady. 
 
 We gave another make-believe show yesterday 
 morning after we had finished the rehearsal of the 
 first six scenes of the play. This one was better 
 than the first because we had a real stage and 
 scenery. We called it "Susie, the Milkmaid." 
 It was a Down-East drama, like " The Old Home- 
 stead." Larry saw "The Old Homestead" when 
 he visited his cousin in the city at Christmas 
 
74 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 time. None of the rest of us had seen it, but we 
 could imagine what ''Susie, the Milkmaid" 
 should be like after Larry had told us all about 
 "The Old Homestead." 
 
 Most of our play takes place on a farm, but 
 one act is in New York City. I wish we could 
 write it out, but that would be too much trouble. 
 We thought it was a mighty good play, though, 
 when we gave it. 
 
 I was the heroine and Hal the villain — a brand- 
 new kind of villain, too. John was the hero, who 
 is a country boy whose father owns a store. Larry 
 was the father; also, he played the part of the 
 old farmer for whom Susie worked. 
 
 The story is something like this: Susie, the 
 milkmaid, comes in from milking the cows and 
 has a love-scene with Lijy, who is the hero. The 
 old farmer Susie works for finds Lijy making 
 love to Susie, and he gets mad and says. Gosh 
 duml Sech things can't happen 'round his place. 
 And Lijy goes off feeUng sore, but still very much 
 in love with Susie. Then the villain, who is a 
 drummer from the city, comes to Squire Weather- 
 bee^s farm — the Squire is the one Susie works for 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 75 
 
 — and this drummer, Mr. James Arnold, wants to 
 get Susie out of the way because he is in love 
 with her cruel stepmother, who is a widow, and 
 these two want to get all the money that really 
 belongs to Susie. So Mr. James Arnold tries to 
 lure Susie to the city, but she won't lure worth a 
 cent, and Lijy tells him he'd better leave her alone, 
 because she's his girl, and they 'most get into a 
 fight, but Squire Weatherbee stops them. Then 
 Mr. James Arnold robs the store and makes it 
 look like Lijy had done it. So Lijy has to flee. 
 Susie knows he is innocent, and she loves him so 
 much she goes after him. But she can't find him, 
 even though she looks all night and nearly dies 
 in a snow-storm. When she gets back to the 
 Squire's he's awful mad, because he had to milk 
 the cows, and he says she is an ungrateful girl 
 and turns her out in the snow. The villain pur- 
 sues her to a place where they keep dynamite for 
 a quarry, and is going to blow her up, but she 
 escapes just in time. The next act is in New 
 York City. Lijy has gone there to look for work, 
 but he can't get any, and he tries to drown his 
 sorrows in drink. He is rescued by the Salva- 
 
76 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 tion Army, and his father comes after him and 
 forgives him. They get home, and Susie, who 
 has been an outcast, meets them at the train. 
 Just then the villain shows up again and tries to 
 get Lijy arrested. But Lijy^s father now knows 
 the truth, and he says, "There is the real thief!" — 
 and Mr. James Arnold gets arrested and sent 
 to the lockup, and Susie and Lijy are married, 
 and Susie gets all the money that is really hers, 
 and they buy a farm and live happy ever after. 
 
 Thursday, March 23. 
 
 We know all the play now and have rehearsed 
 every act — not all of them at one time yet, but 
 two or three every afternoon. Saturday we will 
 rehearse the whole play. 
 
 John and I have had trouble doing our love- 
 making scenes as they should be done. John 
 says it's no fun making love to a boy. In the 
 last act where he is supposed to embrace me, he 
 comes at me Hke we were playing football, and 
 I had the ball, and he was going to tackle me. 
 Hal says it isn't at all artistic, whatever that is. 
 Hal thinks he knows how it should be done, so 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 77 
 
 he tried to show us yesterday. He says Ernest 
 should put one arm around Zara^s waist and the 
 other under her far arm, and draw her tenderly 
 toward him, looking down lovingly into her face. 
 She should put one arm aroimd his neck and 
 let the other go about his shoulders as he draws 
 her toward him. Then she should bury her head 
 on his manly bosom for a moment and finally 
 turn her face up to be kissed. All this should 
 take place with the two turned sideways to the 
 audience so that both can be seen. I know that 
 is the way they do it in shows at the Opera House, 
 and all of our best noveUsts end up their books 
 that way. But wouldn't it give you a pain? 
 Rot ! If it wasn't for the love-making, plays would 
 be a great deal easier to do and not half so silly. 
 
 Hal played Ernest for a few minutes yesterday, 
 and showed John how all the above was done. 
 Larry lay over in one comer laughing at us as 
 though the thing was the funniest ever. I 
 couldn't see any fun in it. But I suppose it did 
 look queer to see Hal and me up there hugging each 
 other. 
 
 Then John tried, and did a little better. At 
 
78 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 least it wasn't quite so much like a tackle as the 
 way he did it at first. But I'm here to tell any 
 one no girl would ever stand for the kind of love- 
 making poor Zara gets! 
 
 We have fixed the Hghts for the Bamville and 
 can now use it at night. We thought of candles 
 first, but they cost money, and our Httle pile is 
 about all gone. So each of us brought over all the 
 old lamps we could get at home. We filled each 
 lamp before we brought it to the Barnville, be- 
 cause we don't want to spend any money on coal- 
 oil. We have ten lamps and a lantern. The 
 lantern hangs down-stairs so that people can see 
 to get into the Barnville. One lamp is on a 
 bracket over the stairway. Another lamp fights 
 the part where the audience is to sit. Six of 
 them serve as footHghts. We made tin reflectors 
 for these out of bright new tin we got at Mr. 
 Mooney's — he is the tin man — down-town. The 
 other two Hghts are at either side of the stage 
 behind the first wings. They have tin reflectors, 
 too. They Hght the sides of the stage and the 
 part where we must wait for our cues to enter. 
 
 The dressing-rooms are down-stairs in the old 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 79 
 
 horse stalls. We have swept them out nice and 
 clean and fixed them up the best we could. 
 Since there are four of them, each of us has 
 his own dressing-room. Each dressing-room has 
 some nails driven in the wall to hang clothes on, 
 and ^r4)ox to serve as a dressing-table with an old 
 mirror hung above it. We have begged candle- 
 ends enough to give us plenty of light. 
 
 To get from the dressing-rooms to the up-stairs, 
 you cHmb a ladder that leads up the hay chute. 
 That makes it so we don't have to go up the same 
 stairway the audience use. The chute comes out 
 at one side of the stage back of the wings. Hal 
 says it is a shame it doesn't come out on the stage, 
 for then we could use it for a trap-door and have 
 people disappear into the ground. But we don't 
 need any mysterious disappearances in "The Cap- 
 tive of Castile," so I guess it is a good thing the 
 chute comes out off the stage. Some of us would 
 be sure to tumble down it at the wrong time if 
 it was on the stage. We have put a raiHng around 
 it to prevent any one from going down it except 
 when they want to. 
 
 We have two rows of seats put in already, and 
 
8o THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 we hope to get the others in soon. We are a 
 Uttle short on boards, but Hal says we can beg 
 or borrow — or find some just lying around. The 
 trouble is that we need good ones — nice clean 
 ones — that people will not be afraid to sit on. 
 We have had no difl&culty getting boxes. Larry's 
 uncle runs a grocery store, and he lets Larry have 
 all the boxes he wants. 
 
 The time for the play is getting nearer and 
 nearer. Next week is the last before vacation. 
 We have examinations at school, so we are not 
 planning to do much to the Barnville. Saturday, 
 April I, however, we will give a school-chil- 
 dren's matinee. No grown-up people will be al- 
 lowed unless they are especially asked to come. 
 The matinee will be a trial performance for us, 
 and the real show will come the following Wednes- 
 day night. It is getting so close that we are 
 coimting the days. 
 
CHAPTER VII 
 
 Sunday^ March 26. 
 
 Yesterday was a busy day for the Barnstorm- 
 ers. As I said before, this week we have exam- 
 inations at school, and of course we will be too 
 busy for any barnstorming. So yesterday we 
 had a rehearsal of the whole play, at which we 
 wore our costumes and had the stage set for 
 each act just about as it will be on the night of 
 the show. We will not try to have any rehears- 
 als this week imtil Friday afternoon. Saturday 
 afternoon comes the school-children^s matinee, 
 but I think we can get along all right at that, 
 even if we haven't had many rehearsals just be- 
 fore it. Anyway, it doesn't matter if we do make 
 a few mistakes, for there will be no one there but 
 kids. 
 
 The rehearsal yesterday went very well. The 
 
 scenes looked better than we had expected, and 
 
 our acting was a great deal better than ever be- 
 
 81 
 
82 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 fore. We made fewer mistakes, and we were all 
 quite serious, without any of the usual monkey- 
 business that has spoiled so many of our rehears- 
 als. John quite approved of us. 
 
 The first scene is in a forest. That is the only 
 one we didn't have fixed just as it will be for the 
 show. We are going to bank the stage with ever- 
 green boughs then, and we want them to be nice 
 and fresh, so we were afraid to cut them this 
 far ahead of time. But we have the scene all 
 planned, and we know it is going to look good. 
 I think we can make the stage quite like a forest 
 with big boughs set all around, and a few small 
 evergreen trees standing up just as though they 
 were growing out of the ground. We are going 
 to scatter dead leaves around over the floor, too, 
 and then when you walk across the stage you can 
 hear them crunch up under your feet, just as they 
 do out in the woods. 
 
 We have a big forked branch of a tree that 
 we use for a seat in this first scene. When you 
 turn it so that the end and the two forks rest on 
 the floor you have a seat just the right height for 
 Zara to sit on while she and Ernest are talking. 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 83 
 
 We really wanted a log, but we couldn't find any 
 logs lying around in the woods that were light 
 enough to carry away. 
 
 The second scene is a room in Bernardo^ s house. 
 That is easy to fix — much easier than the forest. 
 But I am afraid there will be quite a long wait 
 between the first and second scenes. We will 
 have to get all those evergreen boughs out of 
 the way, and sweep the stage, and then bring in 
 all the things we use in the second scene. For 
 the room scene we use the gray back drop and the 
 green wings. Against the back drop is a long 
 seat, made from a large box covered with an old 
 couch cover. Above this hangs a big picture — 
 one of those old chromo affairs that look like oil- 
 paintings. This one shows a waterfall in the 
 mountains, with a sunset, and a party of gypsies 
 camped around a fire. Some picture! Larry 
 found it in the attic at home. At the left side 
 of the stage is a small table on which we are 
 going to have a fancy lamp borrowed for the night 
 of the show. Two old chairs, and some cushions 
 for the long seat at the back, complete the prop- 
 erties for the second scene. 
 
84 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 While I am talking about properties, I mustn't 
 forget to put down that Larry is now the prop- 
 erty-man. He feels quite important about it, 
 too. But he is making a good one, so he can 
 feel just as important as he wishes, and we won't 
 bother him about it. He has written lists of the 
 properties we use in each scene. He keeps these 
 lists down in his dressing-room, each one on a 
 separate nail in the wall. The night of the show 
 he is going to check up all the "props" before 
 the curtain goes up on each scene. That way 
 there will be no chance for something to be miss- 
 ing. I can tell you, there's some system to the 
 barnstorming of the Barnstormers — thanks to the 
 "Hints to Amateur Thespians." 
 
 The third scene is in Ernesfs cell in the donjon. 
 The stage is bare except for the big box which 
 served as a seat in the second act. We take the 
 couch cover off of it and cover it with straw and 
 it becomes Ernest^s bed. We scatter straw on 
 the floor, too, because in all the stories you read 
 of heroes being imprisoned, they are always put 
 into cells littered with dirty straw. Over by the 
 bed is a pitcher of water and a crust of bread on 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 85 
 
 a plate — which are all, supposedly, that Ernest 
 gets for food. It looks hke a description by one 
 of our best novelists. When the curtain goes 
 up John is seated on the bed with his head 
 bowed on his heavily manacled hands. Wo-0-0-0! 
 Doesn't that sound romantic? The audience will 
 surely Hke that prison scene. It is to be all dark, 
 too, except for a "spot light" thrown on Ernest. 
 The "spot light" was Larry's idea. He saw 
 Walker Whitesides in " Robert of Sicily " at Christ- 
 mas time, and he said that when the stage was 
 dark they threw a bright light on the person who 
 was acting. So we brought down my old magic 
 lantern to use for the "spot Hght," and it works 
 to perfection. We have it just inside the front 
 wing on the right side of the stage, and from there 
 can follow John about with a patch of light large 
 enough to bring out his figure. When Zara comes 
 in they act together nearly all the time, and are 
 both in the bright light. I think the " spot light" 
 will make quite a hit with the audience. Larry 
 says it is only done in the best theatres, and for 
 the highest-priced stars. Well, there's nothing 
 too good for the Barnstormers. 
 
86 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 The handcuffs John wears are the real thing. 
 Hal got them from Mr. Bradford, who Hves next 
 door to them. He was in the Civil War — secret 
 service, or something like that — and he has a big 
 collection of handcuffs and old pistols and gims 
 that he captured. The pair of handcuffs he let 
 us have are all rusty and old-looking, and cer- 
 tainly show they have been used. If we just had 
 a ball and chain and could chain Ernest down 
 with that, he would look hke an old-time prisoner 
 for sure. The handcuffs are terribly big for John — 
 he can sHp his hands right through them — ^but 
 they are the real thing, and that is what we are 
 after. 
 
 The fourth scene is the same as the second. 
 
 The fifth scene is Bernardo^s bedroom, or his 
 chamber, as it calls it in the play. The stage is 
 to be quite dark, so we do not change it much 
 from the scene that goes before. The big picture 
 is taken down, and the two chairs put back 
 against the wings, while the table is put near the 
 seat, which in this scene serves as Bernardo^s 
 bed. Hal lies down on it, and we cover him all 
 up so that he looks as though he were in bed. 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 87 
 
 When the curtain goes up, Zara enters carrying 
 a candle with a red shade. She puts this candle 
 do^vn on the table, reaches under Bernardo^ s pil- 
 low and gets the death-warrant, and then slips 
 away. I wanted to Hght the death-warrant from 
 the candle, and then burn it up right there be- 
 fore the eyes of the audience, but Hal said no, 
 we'd have a fire and a panic, or maybe a panic 
 without the fire, and it would be a second Iro- 
 quois disaster, and somebody would be killed, and 
 goodness knows what might happen. Then I 
 said we could fix up a brazier, which is a thing 
 people used to have just for the purpose of burn- 
 ing up death-warrants and such things. I read 
 about oM in "Henry Esmond." It's the piil 
 Where the Jesuit burWs lip some jpapers before hfe 
 flees. But Hal didn't Hke the idea of that either. 
 He said that if I was burning up that death-war- 
 rant he could never lay there and pretend to be 
 asleep. He'd just have to look, and that would 
 spoil the show. And besides, he said, no one could 
 be expected to sleep with a death-warrant being 
 burned up in his bedroom, right under his 
 very nose. And furthermore — ^it wasn't artistic! 
 
SS THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 Whenever Hal can't think of any other reason 
 for or against a thing he wants to do, or does not 
 want to do, as the case may be, he says it is or 
 it is not artistic! Piffle! An3rway, I'm not going 
 to bum up the death-warrant. Mrs. Strong, or 
 somebody else with nerves, might throw a fit out 
 in the audience and spoil the show. 
 
 The sixth scene is the same as the second and 
 fifth. It is the one where Bernardo finds out 
 about the death-warrant and gives Zara thunder 
 about it, and then makes her take that vow about 
 never wedding anybody but one of her own race. 
 
 The seventh scene is in Hernando^s cell — ^not 
 a prison cell, but a sort of little chapel where the 
 old priest goes to pray and meditate. (That 
 is a new word John rung in on us at rehearsal. 
 The dictionary says it means to contemplate — 
 looked that up, too, and it means to consider, 
 or think studiously. Poor Larry! He says he 
 might do some things, but he was never built 
 for a meditator.) Well, meditation aside, the 
 seventh scene is the best in the play. It's the 
 most interesting to hear, too, because in it Zara 
 learns the secret of her fife, and the vow that 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 89 
 
 has stood between the lovers is wiped away. For 
 a setting we use the gray drop and wings, and 
 against the drop, about the centre of the stage, 
 we put an altar made of two boxes. One forms 
 the base, while the other is the altar itself. Over 
 this hangs a big wooden cross, and on it two 
 candles are burning, giving out the only Ught 
 for the whole scene. When the curtain goes up 
 Hernando is kneeKng at the altar in prayer. Then 
 Zara comes in and tells him all her troubles. 
 They sit on the box forming the altar base. After 
 Zara has told him about her love for Ernest and 
 the vow that stands between them, the old 
 priest tells her the secret of her life — that she is 
 not really Bernardo^s daughter, and that her 
 father was an EngHsh lord. 
 
 The last scene is the same as the second, fourth, 
 and sixth. Ernest and Zara at last get together 
 and live happy ever after. 
 
 Wednesday, March 29. 
 
 Exams! I haven't dared to do more than look 
 into the Bamville all week. I have to make good 
 
90 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 grades in all my studies, or I can't go on to high 
 school next year. It would be terrible to have to 
 come back into the eighth grade and have every- 
 body know that you hadn't been smart enough 
 to get through. 
 
 I am here to tell any one that it isn't easy to 
 pass examinations on arithmetic — all about men- 
 suration, and cord-wood, and how many cows 
 somebody has, and if two men did a piece of work 
 in so long, how many hours would it take ten men 
 to do it — and other things quite as silly. I sup- 
 pose problems Kke that are necessary, but they 
 don't seem to be so to me. I am sure I don't 
 care how long it takes the ten men to do the work, 
 or how many cords of wood A has, or how many 
 cows B has, if he gets so many quarts of milk a 
 day, and half the cows give so many quarts, and 
 the other half give a different number. They 
 wouldn't do it that way anyhow, but then the 
 people who write arithmetics don't know the dif- 
 ference. 
 
 The English isn't half bad. We have been 
 reading Scott's "Lady of the Lake." It is very 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 91 
 
 thrilling, and would make a first-rate play for us 
 to give in the Barnville. Fitz James and Roderick 
 Dhu were brave men, and Ellen was a lovely 
 lady, and brave too, just Uke Zara, It isn't hard 
 to remember all about them, but the arithmetic 
 is too much for me. 
 
 Physiology isn't just the easiest thing in the 
 world, either. We had an examination on it to- 
 day. Had to tell all about the circulation of the 
 blood. IVe been studying that till I dreamed I 
 was a red corpuscle floating around in a vein. I 
 wish I were one for a while — long enough to get 
 the route they take fixed in my memory. 
 
 But even at that I am dreaming Barnville more 
 than red corpuscles, or cows, or how many hours 
 it will take to do a certain piece of work. It's 
 hard to sit writing on a long sheet of ruled exam- 
 ination paper when the sun shines in warm and 
 bright, and you just know the Barnville would 
 be fine and warm for a rehearsal, or a make- 
 believe play that you made up as you went along. 
 Sometimes I forget all about the old exam and 
 sit thinking about the Barnville till, when I 
 
92 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 come to myself, I have to hurry to finish my 
 paper. 
 
 But more often I stick to the exam and then 
 think about the Bamville after I am through. I 
 either know the answers to the questions or I 
 don't know them, and I don't waste time beating 
 aroimd the bush trying to make teacher think 
 I know when I don't. So I usually get done 
 before the others. You have to spend the whole 
 time that is given you, though, because the teacher 
 thinks you haven't worked hard if you pass in 
 your paper before the end of the hour. So I have 
 been writing out the stories of make-beHeve plays 
 on my pad of scratch paper while I wait for the 
 end of the hour to come. Oh, I've thought out 
 some corking good ones ! This summer I am going 
 to write a real play, just like Jo and Meg did. 
 Then the Barnstormers can give it, and I'll be 
 a real playwright, just like Charles Klein, and 
 David Belasco, and all the others you read about 
 in the dramatic news of the Sunday paper. 
 Maybe some day I'll be a real one for sure, just 
 like those big bugs are. Gee! 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 93 
 
 Other times this week when I have had noth- 
 ing to do I have thought through my Hnes in the 
 play. You know it's really funny how you can 
 think through a play. I know nearly the whole 
 thing now, for IVe learned other people's Hnes 
 besides my own just Hstening to them said. I 
 can sit and think and act 'most as if I were right 
 there acting it. 
 
 To-day I was sitting there thinking through my 
 scene with Bernardo — the last one in the play — 
 where Zara tells him she will stand by him even 
 if he hasn't treated her right, and I got so inter- 
 ested in it I didn't notice that the hour was up 
 and that every one was passing their papers in. 
 So I didn't take my paper up to the desk; but I 
 woke up just in time to save my skin. The teacher 
 looked suspicious and asked me why I was so late 
 bringing my paper up to the desk. I told her 
 the truth — that I had finished it before the others 
 were through and was thinking about something 
 else and forgot. She looked at me with a queer 
 little twinkle in her eyes, and said something about 
 she wouldn't take such an explanation from most 
 
94 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 boys, but I was "different." I don't know quite 
 what she meant. 
 
 Two more days of exams, and then Saturday! 
 And then a whole glorious week! 
 
CHAPTER VIII 
 
 Sunday, April 2. 
 
 We have had one performance of our play. 
 The school-children's matinee came off yesterday 
 afternoon and was a great success. But we had 
 quite an exciting time along with it, because 
 some of that West-End gang tried to break up the 
 show. 
 
 We had twenty-two people at the matinee, 
 which meant fourty-four cents for us. EHzabeth 
 Thomas and her Httle brother wanted to get in 
 on pins, because they said that is all you ever 
 paid to get into shows in bams, but we told 
 her she could stay away unless she paid the full 
 price — two cents apiece. So she went back home 
 and finally returned with two postage-stamps. 
 We had to take them, though Hal thought we 
 should not have done it. 
 
 Several of the kids we know at school came, 
 95 
 
96 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 and all the little youngsters in the neighborhood. 
 There were three grown-up people: mother, Mrs. 
 Jameson, and the Petersons' hired girl, who 
 brought the three Peterson kids. 
 
 Larry thought we should charge these grown-up 
 people five cents, but we decided it wouldn't be 
 the best thing to do, and so let them in for two. 
 
 The show started off beautifully. In the morn- 
 ing we cut those evergreen boughs for the first 
 act from some trees back in one corner of the 
 big pasture that lies about a block away from 
 where we live. Old Mr. Durgan owns that pas- 
 ture, and we were scared as green as the trees 
 themselves for fear he'd see us and send Huggins, 
 his hired man, out after us. Because if he had 
 taken it into his head, he might have sent us all 
 to the lockup, and sued our fathers, or done 
 something awful. Old Durgan is soured on the 
 world, and when folks get in that fix there's no 
 teUing what they will do. 
 
 The first act looked fine. We darkened the 
 Bamville because we were afraid things wouldn't 
 look right in dayhght, and we wanted to use the 
 regular lights. Making the barn dark was easy 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 97 
 
 enough, for the windows of the loft are just 
 wooden shutters, and when you close them the 
 loft is black as night. That evergreen forest in 
 the first act was some forest all right, and will 
 be still better when we fix it up for Wednesday 
 night, because we will have about twice as many 
 evergreen boughs. 
 
 Everything went all right till the third act. 
 We had just come to the place where Zara loses 
 her veil and Ernest recognizes her as the lovely 
 lady he saved from the forest. He had just said, 
 "Lady! — and is it thou?'' when a rock hit the 
 side of the bam. Some of the little kids giggled, 
 and John stopped for a moment before going on. 
 Nothing more happened, so he started the speech 
 over. Then another rock hit the barn, and an- 
 other, and another. Somebody outside began to 
 yell, and the rocks came faster and faster. John 
 and I were left standing in the middle of the stage 
 imable to finish our scene. 
 
 I knew what it was the minute the first rock 
 hit the bam. The only thing that worried me 
 was how many of the West-End gang were out- 
 side. 
 
98 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 The little kids, and the others, too, were begin- 
 ning to get frightened. Mrs. Jameson and mother 
 moved close together and seemed to be talking 
 about what to do, for I think they had an idea 
 of what was up. 
 
 I didn't know what to do at first, but after 
 several rocks had hit the barn I walked to the 
 front of the stage and made a Httle speech. I 
 said something about, "Ladies and gentlemen, we 
 are sorry for this interruption, and if you will 
 kindly be patient we will ring down the curtain 
 and see what can be done." 
 
 So the curtain was let down, and we all got 
 together to decide how we should get rid of the 
 West-Enders. We were afraid the people in the 
 audience would leave if we didn't do something 
 quick. 
 
 So Larry shd down the chute to the first floor 
 and got some lengths of old hose and attached 
 one end to the water spigot. Hal, John, and I 
 followed and armed ourselves with some rotten 
 apples from the bottom of a barrel that had just 
 been moved from the cellar. What we planned 
 was a quick attack with water and apples. Hal 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 99 
 
 and I went up-stairs and peeped out of a crack 
 in the back window that overlooks the alley. 
 John and Larry got ready to open fire from below. 
 The signal was to be a yell. 
 
 When it came, Hal and I flung open the 
 window and let drive with the apples. At the 
 same time Larry turned loose with the water 
 and Hal pasted one of the West-Enders with an 
 apple. 
 
 We certainly did take those two by surprise; 
 for there were only two of them, Hen Perkins 
 and Pete McGann, the same two who made fun 
 of us that day when we were buying the stuff 
 for the scenery and drops. They weren't more 
 than ten feet from the back of the barn, so it 
 was easy to hit them. John's apple took Pete 
 right in the mouth, and at the §:ame time th^ 
 Stteam of water Wt him full in the face. Hal 
 landed one on Hen Perkins's head and mine took 
 him in the stomach. They weren't hard, and so, 
 of course, they didn't hurt, but they did make 
 those two look pretty mussy. They were so sur- 
 prised that they didn't even have sense enough 
 to run until we had them nicely plastered up with 
 
loo THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 rotten apples and had soaked them with water 
 to boot. I'd like to know what story they told 
 when they had to go through town m such 
 a fix! 
 
 Well, after this little interruption we went back 
 and started the third act over again. We were 
 all just the least bit worked up over what had 
 happened, but we didn't let that make any 
 difference. We did the rest of the show up in 
 style. 
 
 Everybody seemed pleased with it. The grown- 
 up people thought we did splendidly. Just wait 
 till Wednesday night! Then is when we will 
 show them what we can do. 
 
 Oh, I forgot one fimny thing! Yesterday was 
 April I St, April FooFs Day. Of course, some- 
 body would be sure to play a joke down at the 
 BamviUe. I suppose we might say that was what 
 the West-Enders were trying, but theirs didn't 
 work very well. But this other joke was all right. 
 Hal played it and carried it off to perfection. 
 About one o'clock, when we were ready for the 
 matinee and were expecting to have some of the 
 people come any minute, Hal arrived. He said 
 
THEY WERE SO SURPRISED THAT THEY DIDN T EVEN HAVE 
 SENSE ENOUGH TO RUN 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS thr 
 
 he was sorry to be so late, but something of great 
 importance had come up. 
 
 Right away all of us wanted to know what it 
 was. 
 
 "Well/* said Hal, "there's a law in this State 
 that says all theatres must be properly licensed, 
 and if they aren't the owners and all persons con- 
 nected with them will be liable to arrest and im- 
 prisonment not exceeding two years. We'd bet- 
 ter call off the show till we get a license." 
 
 "Honest?" said Larry. 
 
 "I don't believe it," said John. 
 
 Hal laughed. "Believe it or not," he said, " you 
 can go over and read it in Mr. Lawson's law books. 
 I saw the whole thing there myself. I think we 
 had better be careful." 
 
 We were all quite worked up over that old 
 license business, and Hal seemed the most ex- 
 cited of anybody. He let it go just as far as he 
 wanted to and then began to laugh. 
 
 "April fool! April fool!" he yeUed. "Did ever 
 a lot of people bite like you have!" 
 
 We were so mad we could have pounded him, 
 only it was about time for people to begin com- 
 
;wi'1>\l.:;,' tHE BASlNSTORMERS 
 
 ing, so we couldn't stop for a scrap. We just 
 laughed instead and told him we would get even 
 when the right time came. 
 But it was funny! 
 
 Tuesday, April 4. 
 
 The Barnstormers are about the busiest little 
 bees that ever buzzed. We are getting ready for 
 that performance to-morrow night, and we find 
 there is a great deal to do. But it is vacation, 
 which is a blessing in more ways than one. Our 
 time is our own, and we don't have to stop and 
 hurry off to school just about the time we get 
 anything started. 
 
 To-morrow is the great day. I can hardly wait 
 for to-morrow night to cornel 1 just know \V6 
 are going to make the show go as ia show never 
 went before. 
 
 Last night we sold twenty-five tickets. Think — 
 a whole dollar and twenty-five cents' worth. 
 And we had a lot of fun doing it, too. 
 
 Hal printed some handbills like the one I have 
 pasted in below. 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 103 
 
 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 IN 
 
 THE CAPTIVE OF CASTILE 
 A Play 
 
 BY 
 
 LOUISA ALCOTT 
 
 The Barnville Theatre 
 
 Wed., April 5. 
 
 7:30 PM 
 
 Reserved Seats, 5 cts. 
 
 BEAUTIFUL PRODUCTION 
 
 Do Not Miss It! Come One, 
 Come All! 
 
 (Jameson, Print) 
 
I04 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 We have tickets, too, like this: 
 
 Section d 
 
 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 ADMIT ONE 
 
 Row J^ 
 
 Seat y 
 
 Date, Wed., April 5. 
 
 I think those tickets are corkers. They look 
 just like the ones they have at the Opera 
 House. 
 
 I guess the stunt we worked to sell tickets was 
 some stunt all right ! We dressed up in the clothes 
 we are to wear in the play and went around to 
 the houses of different people we know and made 
 calls. We went to Judge Ring's first, and we were 
 real scared, because we didn't know how they 
 would take our coming there. We rang the door- 
 bell and the girl came to the door. She certainly 
 did look surprised. We told her we would Hke to 
 see the judge. I guess she told him there were a 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 105 
 
 lot of crazy people at the door, because he came 
 out looking real fierce. But when he saw us he 
 just ha-hawed. He asked us in, and we sat down 
 in the parlor, and Mrs. Ring and Miss Elsa came 
 in, and they laughed, too. We gave each one of 
 them a handbill and then told them about the 
 show. The judge took three tickets, and said he 
 surely would be there Wednesday night, no mat- 
 ter what might happen. 
 
 Next we went to Mr. Tilson's. They let us in 
 and seemed just as tickled as the Rings had been. 
 We sold two tickets there. We went on to six 
 other houses, and altogether we sold twenty-five 
 tickets. 
 
 I felt so funny dressed up in my dress. I didn't 
 want to wear it, but they all said I had to. I 
 kept my veil on all the time, though, so it wasn't 
 so bad, for that hid my face, and I could grin as 
 much as I wanted. Only I couldn't see through 
 the veil, and John had to lead me. 
 
 While I am pasting things in, I guess I'll put 
 in a copy of The Gimlet, It's last week's copy 
 that came out Saturday. It tells all about the 
 Barnstormers. 
 
io6 
 
 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 THE GIMLET 
 
 April I. 
 
 DON'T MISS THE CAPTIVE OF CASTILE 
 
 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 IN A GREAT 
 
 PLAY 
 
 It is with pleasure that 
 The Gimlet announces the 
 first performance of a famous 
 play by the new theatrical 
 company known as the Barn- 
 stormers. 
 
 The Barnstormers is an or- 
 ganization of very talented 
 juvenile players, and much is 
 to be expected of them in the 
 future. We are sure that 
 those of our readers who at- 
 tend the first play will be 
 greatly pleased. 
 
 "The Captive of Castile" 
 tells the story of man's brav- 
 ery and woman's true hero- 
 ism. The leading parts will 
 be played by Mr. John Jame- 
 son and Mr. Robert Archer. 
 Mr. Archer is especially fine 
 in the part of Zara, the much 
 wronged heroine. Mr. Jame- 
 son is a very handsome and 
 convincing hero. The other 
 
 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 IN 
 
 THE CAPTIVE OF 
 CASTILE 
 
 A Romantic Drama 
 
 by 
 
 Louisa Alcott. 
 
 THE 
 BARNVILLE THEATRE 
 
 School Children's Matinee 
 Saturday, Ap. ist 
 Admission, 2 cts. 
 
 REGULAR 
 PERFORMANCE 
 
 Wednesday 
 April 5, at 7 : 30 P. M. 
 Admission, 5 cents. 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 107 
 
 April I. 
 
 THE GIMLET 
 
 Page 2. 
 
 Continued from first page 
 
 parts of the play are taken by- 
 Mr. Harold Jameson and Mr. 
 Lawrence Donovan. 
 
 The scenery for the pro- 
 duction is very elaborate. 
 The Bamville management 
 has spared no expense or 
 trouble in the efifort to make 
 the play successful in every 
 way. 
 
 The Barnville, Jordan's 
 new juvenile theatre, is a 
 model of convenience and 
 beauty. It will prove to be 
 an agreeable surprise to those 
 who visit it. 
 
 We urge all our patrons to 
 support the noble cause of 
 the drama by buying tickets 
 and attending the forthcom- 
 ing production. 
 
 o 
 
 We wish to call attention 
 to the fact that many sub- 
 scriptions are due. We can't 
 print the paper unless you 
 pay in, Mr. Subscriber. 
 o 
 
 Hurrah for vacation! 
 
 The Gimlet Press is now 
 prepared to print cards and 
 advertising circulars at the 
 lowest prices in town. Give 
 us a trial. 
 
 THE GIMLET 
 
 Volume II, Number 6. 
 
 Published weekly at The Gim- 
 let Press, 246 East Second 
 Street. 
 
 Subscription, 2 cts per copy, 
 fifty cents per year, five cents 
 per month. 
 
 Harold Jameson, printer and 
 publisher. 
 
 Editor in Chief, Harold 
 Jameson. 
 
 Subscription manager, Harold 
 Jameson. 
 
 Sporting Editor, Harold Jame- 
 son. 
 
 Newsboy, Harold Jameson. 
 O 
 
 DUST FROM THE 
 GIMLET 
 
 Who said being an actor 
 was an easy job? 
 
 We are going to start a 
 puzzle department, and offer 
 a prize for the guy that will 
 solve the puzzle of how to get 
 money out of subscribers. 
 
 Money talks. So do sub- 
 scribers. But we would 
 rather hear the Money. 
 
 Advertise in The Gimlet. 
 It is read by fifty people every 
 week. 
 
 We know this is a bum is- 
 sue, but we can't act and print 
 both. Come see Ye Editor 
 as the villain. He's a better 
 villain than an editor. 
 
168 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 I guess The Gimlet is some newspaper all right! 
 Hal has been so busy that this number isn't quite 
 as good as usual, but I wanted to keep it because 
 it is all about the Barnstormers. I helped to 
 print it, too. We did it Thursday afternoon. Hal 
 had the type all set and the form in the press, 
 and I helped run off the printed copies. 
 
 I also helped write the article about the Barn- 
 stormers. We got an old bill that told about 
 "The All-Star Stock Company" that visited this 
 town some months ago, and we took our adjec- 
 tives from that and from an accoimt in the Mitch- 
 ell paper about the opening of the new Opera 
 House there. 
 
 Sometimes Hal draws pictures on the front page 
 of The Gimlet, He does some that are very funny. 
 When Judge Winton was elected last fall Hal had 
 a picture on the front page showing a man, sup- 
 posed to be the judge, standing on top of another 
 man, who was supposed to be Mr. Land, who was 
 the fellow the judge defeated in the election. That 
 copy of the paper was given over to poHtical news. 
 Hal sent a copy to Judge Winton himself, and the 
 judge wrote him a letter thanking him for it. 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 109 
 
 But Hal doesn't have many front-page draw- 
 ings these days, because now that the subscrip- 
 tion is up to fifty copies it takes too long to draw 
 a picture on each one, even if it is just sketched 
 in with a pencil. 
 
 With fifty subscribers Hal ought to make some 
 money, but so few of them pay that he is usually 
 in debt for paper and ink. 
 
 I suppose I must go to bed, because to-morrow 
 is the Big day, and we will all be up late to- 
 morrow night. 
 
 Wo-o-o-o-o! I just can't wait for to-morrow! 
 
CHAPTER IX 
 
 Wednesday, April 5. 
 
 To-day has seemed dreadfully long. We 
 haven't had much to do because everything is 
 ready for the show to-night, and we couldn't give 
 make-believe plays, because the stage is all set 
 with the forest scene, and we mustn't disturb 
 that. Besides, we all thought we should rest this 
 afternoon so that we would be fresh for to-night, 
 but it is twice as hard to rest as it is to work. I 
 just don't know what to do with myself. 
 
 I feel weak in the knees, too, when I think about 
 all of those people who are coming to the show 
 to-night. Suppose something should go wrong! 
 Or suppose I should forget some of my lines! 
 There are so many awful supposes that I just 
 can't sit still for thinking about them. I know 
 it is silly to worry, but I can't help it. 
 
 Hal, John, and Larry spent the morning over 
 here, and we put the last touches to the Bamville. 
 
 no 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS iii 
 
 It is all swept out as clean as a new pin so that 
 none of the ladies will soil their dresses on the 
 floor. We have put sofa pillows on the board 
 seats, so they will be soft to sit on, and so people 
 will not get tired and want to go home before the 
 show is over. And we have five Japanese lan- 
 terns put along from the front gate to the bam 
 so that no one can possibly miss the way. If 
 there is anything else we might do I don't know 
 what it is. 
 
 We ought really to have some one who is not 
 in the show to act as ticket-taker and usher. But 
 since we have only four members, and all of us 
 are in the play, we can't very well do that. So 
 Larry is going to take the tickets and show peo- 
 ple to their seats. He doesn't come in until the 
 second act, and he can get ready for that while 
 the first act is going on. 
 
 The seats are all numbered with chalk on the 
 floor imder each one. Each seat is reserved, and 
 the ticket marked with the section, row, and num- 
 ber. There are two sections, A and B. A is at 
 the right, B is at the left. There are five rows 
 of seats in each section, and we have allowed four 
 
112 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 seats to each row. That means we have room 
 for forty people. There are thirty seats sold now, 
 so if all those people come, we will not have room 
 for many more. 
 
 I do wish we could have music of some sort 
 before the curtain goes up and in between each 
 act. They always have it in a regular theatre, 
 and the Barnville ought to have it, too. Maybe 
 by the time we give our next show we can borrow 
 a phonograph or get somebody who plays the 
 vioHn or the harmonica. Only a harmonica 
 wouldn't be very nice to have at a show where 
 grown-up people come. I hope we can have a 
 phonograph. Perhaps if we make a great suc- 
 cess, some one will lend us a phonograph for the 
 next show we give. 
 
 Nearly five o'clock now! I am going to have 
 my supper in half an hour, and at six Hal, Larry, 
 and John are coming. Then we will make up, 
 dress, and be ready for the show at seven-thirty. 
 
 I wish it was all over. I am glad we are hav- 
 ing it, but I feel so queer inside! All trembly, 
 and as if I had several hearts beating at the same 
 time. I suppose I have what they call stage fright 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 113 
 
 But the "Hints to Amateur Thespians" says that 
 stage fright always passes after you begin to act, 
 so I guess there is some hope for me. 
 
 Thursday, April 6. 
 
 This is the morning after of the night before. 
 But I don't care if I am tired, for we certainly 
 put one over last night. The show went ever so 
 well, and people Hked it. When things really 
 come out right you don't care if you are tired 
 afterward. 
 
 The audience began to come about seven-fif- 
 teen. First Mr. and Mrs. Jameson and father 
 and mother came down. Then Larry's father 
 and mother arrived, and after that a whole string 
 of people. We had every last seat full, and sev- 
 eral people standing. We took in two dollars 
 and twenty cents. We are rich — ^we have a reg- 
 ular young fortune! 
 
 Larry took tickets and showed people to their 
 seats, just as I said he was going to do, and then 
 came up to dress. We waited till about a quar- 
 ter of eight before we began. We thought it was 
 best to wait until we were sure everybody was 
 
114 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 there. And then, too, it isn't the thing to begin 
 shows when they are advertised to begin. They 
 never do it at the Opera House, or at the lecture 
 course in the Masonic Hall. 
 
 We were all pretty much scared while we were 
 waiting to begin the first scene. When I peeped 
 out through the slit at the side of the curtain and 
 saw all those forty-four grown-up people looking 
 as solemn as a funeral, I was about ready to turn 
 turkey and run. I was terribly weak and trem- 
 bly, and I felt again as though I had about a 
 dozen hearts all beating at the same time. I 
 was sure I would never be able to say a word 
 when I got out before the crowd. It was lots 
 worse than saying pieces at a church cantata at 
 Christmas time. 
 
 Well, finally we were ready to begin. Hal 
 thumped three times with a stick of wood on the 
 floor, and the people out front quieted down. 
 The curtain went up. John, looking quite as 
 scared as I did, made his way on the stage. I 
 don't know how he said his fines. AU I do know 
 is that after what seemed hours I heard my cue, 
 and somehow got out in the centre of the stage 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 115 
 
 where I belonged. I felt as if I should die, but 
 I didn't. I gave an awful gulp, and then I heard 
 myself saying the first few lines of my speech, and 
 my voice soimded as though it were miles away. 
 Then I began to feel better, and by the time John 
 came on again I was all right. 
 
 We finished up the act as well as we ever had 
 done it, and I think possibly somewhat better. 
 When the curtain went down the audience clapped 
 their hands until we had to raise it again so that 
 John and I could go out and bow. After that there 
 was more clapping, and a great buzz of people 
 talking and laughing together. But we couldn't 
 stop to Hsten to that. We had to get busy, and 
 do it quick at that, clearing the stage and reset- 
 ting it for the next scene. 
 
 We all felt happy because the audience seemed 
 so well pleased with the show. We took time 
 for a Httle joUification all our own while the ap- 
 plause was still going on. We pounded each 
 other in the back and had a regular young jubilee 
 back there behind the curtain. But we didn't 
 have any time to spare for even that, so we set 
 to work at once clearing out the evergreen boughs 
 
ii6 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 and changing the stage from a forest to a room 
 in Bernardo^ s house. 
 
 The second scene went quite as well as the 
 first. Hal made a great hit. He ran in lots of 
 little things he had never done before, but they 
 were all good and helped out his part. People 
 seemed to think he was very funny, for they 
 laughed at him all the time. 
 
 I had a hard time to keep serious during some 
 of my speeches. When Hal came to that part 
 where he says, "Adieu, love, I must to the coun- 
 cil," I thought about that silly speech he always 
 had put in about "Adieu, love, I must to the pig- 
 pen," and it was all I could do to keep from burst- 
 ing out laughing. The worst of it was that Hal 
 nearly said pig-pen instead of council. He had 
 said it wrong for so long a time that he was in the 
 habit of it. He got as far as the sound of the 
 letter p in pig before he caught himself and changed 
 to coimcil. Our eyes met, and for a minute I 
 thought the game was up, and we would both 
 have to stop and laugh. But Hal just winked, 
 as serious as could be, and went off through the 
 wings. To keep from laughing, I buried my face 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 117 
 
 in my hands and pretended I was crying. It 
 happened to fit in very well, and quite saved the 
 day for me. 
 
 After Bernardo leaves, Zara calls for Sdim, 
 and when he comes on they have quite a little 
 scene together before she gets the keys of the 
 prison from him. Larry has been bragging about 
 his wonderful system as property-man, by which 
 nothing would ever be missed when needed. The 
 joke was on him, I guess, for he forgot the keys. 
 Zara has quite a time to get old Selim to let her 
 have the keys to the donjon, but at last he gives 
 in, kneels before her, and offers her the whole 
 bunch of keys he carries at his belt. Larry got 
 down on his knees all right, but when he reached 
 for the keys they weren't there. He looked up 
 at me with the blankest look I ever saw on any 
 one's face. Even his grin was gone. But it came 
 back in a minute. His back was to the audience, 
 and he winked at me and said: "A moment, 
 lady. I crave a thousand pardons. The keys are 
 in the bag I left without." Then he whispered: 
 "Say something while I get 'em!" 
 
 So I had to make up a speech to fit. I'm afraid 
 
ii8 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 it was silly, but it got by. I clasped my hands 
 and looked up to the rafters and said: "At last 
 fate leads me to thee, Ernest! Oh, how I long 
 to see thy face again!" 
 
 Then Larry came back on the stage, knelt, 
 gave me the keys, and we went on with the scene. 
 I guess that was "saving the beans" in a pretty 
 neat manner! 
 
 The third scene, the one in Ernesfs cell, made 
 quite a hit. We turned the footHghts out and 
 had the stage quite dark, with the only light 
 coming from the magic lantern. 
 
 When the curtain went up John was sitting on 
 his bed of straw, his head bowed on his manacled 
 hands, and the only Hght for the scene coming 
 from the "spot." Hal said it was "artistic." 
 Whatever it was, the audience liked it and clapped 
 their hands. That gave John and me quite a little 
 encouragement, and we did the best we could. 
 The only trouble we had in the whole scene came 
 when I tried to make my veil fall. I thought I 
 should never get the thing to come loose. But it 
 did, and I guess the audience didn't see that I 
 had to fairly pull it off. 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 119 
 
 I had a curtain call on the fourth scene. At 
 the end of it Zara, after having made up her mind 
 to steal the death-warrant from beneath the pil- 
 low of her sleeping father, says: "Ernest, 'tis for 
 thee! For thee!" That seemed to make quite 
 a hit. 
 
 The fifth scene, where Zara steals the death- 
 warrant, also pleased the audience. They clapped 
 a lot after it, but I didn't go out before the 
 curtain. I don't think it looks well to do it too 
 often. 
 
 Hal just ran away with the sixth scene. That 
 is where he accuses Zara of destro3dng the death- 
 warrant and she confesses to the crime. Hal 
 was terribly villainous and very fierce. The au- 
 dience seemed to think he was about the fimniest 
 thing they had ever seen. They just wouldn't 
 take us seriously. The more serious we got, the 
 funnier they seemed to think it was. When Hal 
 said: "Ha! Is it so?" and stood glowering at 
 me, everybody laughed. We didn't quite know 
 what to do, but we still kept serious, and finally 
 the people quieted down. When Bernardo tells 
 Zara that if she wishes to save Ernest she must 
 
I20 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 swear never to wed one other than of her own 
 people, I threw myself at his feet and embraced 
 his knees, just Hke you read about the heroines 
 doing in "Ivanhoe" and other romantic novels, 
 and cried: "O father, father, anything but this!" 
 The audience sobered up then, and we went on 
 with the scene in the most theatrical manner. 
 When it comes to the place where Zara takes the 
 oath, you could have heard a pin drop. I can 
 hear myself yet saying: "I swear; and may the 
 spirit of that mother look in pity on the child 
 whose love hath made her Ufe so dark a path to 
 tread." My last speech in the scene is one of 
 the best in the play. When I said the last line 
 of it, "Now, farewell, love; my poor heart may 
 grieve for its lost joy, and look for comfort but 
 in heaven," I raised both my hands up over 
 my head and fell back on the divan in a dead 
 faint. (Not a real faint, you know, for it was just 
 part of the acting.) The audience clapped and 
 clapped, and Hal and I had to bow twice, and then 
 I had to bow alone and Hal had to bow alone. 
 It made me feel good all over — sort of tingly 
 and happy clear to my toes. 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 121 
 
 The stage-setting for the seventh scene, which 
 is Hernando^s cell, looked just as good as we had 
 hoped it would, and the audience applauded it 
 when the curtain went up, showing Larry seated 
 there at the foot of the altar. Larry did the part 
 of Hernando much better than he had ever done 
 it at rehearsal. And he didn't grin! 
 
 By the end of that seventh scene we were all 
 f eeUng pretty happy. We had only one more 
 act, and so far everything had gone all right. 
 
 The last was no exception. Hal and I got some 
 applause along about the middle of the scene. 
 When Zara shows Bernardo the paper that proves 
 to him he is betrayed, he says: "Lost! lost! 
 Fool that I was to trust the promise of a king! 
 Disgraced, dishonored, and betrayed! Where find 
 a friend to help me now? " 
 
 Then Zara says: "Here — ^in the child who clings 
 to thee through danger, treachery, and death. 
 Trust to the love of one whom once thou loved 
 and who still longs to win thee back to happiness 
 and honor." 
 
 Of course it was bully of Zara to look at it that 
 way, especially after all Bernardo had done. I 
 
122 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 am not real sure but that she ought to have let 
 the old villain take his medicine. But it pleased 
 the audience because she was so generous, and they 
 applauded the lines. 
 
 The last part of the scene, where Ernest em- 
 braces Zara, was a ticklish place for John and me. 
 We did get through with it some way, though, 
 and the curtain went down, and the audience 
 clapped their hands till we all had to go out and 
 bow for the last time. We left the curtain up 
 then, and went out to shake hands with the peo- 
 ple who had come to see our show. They made 
 an awful fuss over us and said all sorts of nice 
 things. I guess the Barnstormers have made a 
 good start. 
 
 Well, after we had shaken hands all around, 
 Mr. Osterman got us all on the stage and took 
 some flash-Kght pictures of us in our costumes. 
 I hope the pictures turn out to be good. 
 
 The surprise of the evening came when we 
 left the bam and went up to the house. 
 Mother and father and Mr. and Mrs. Jameson 
 and Mr. and Mrs. Donovan were in the dining- 
 room waiting for us, and there was ice-cream and 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 123 
 
 cake for everybody, and coffee for the grown-ups 
 and candy for us. 
 
 We sat around and had a good time for about 
 three-quarters of an hour, and then the others 
 left, and I knew all at once that I was very tired 
 and sleepy and wanted to go to bed. 
 
 Yesterday was some day! 
 
 We are talking about our next show already. 
 John wants us to give "The Greek Slave," which 
 is the next play in the " Comic Tragedies." Hal 
 wants "Bianca," because there is such a per- 
 fectly good villain in it, and Larry wants a modern 
 play with a good fimhy part in it that he can 
 take. I think I am for "Bianca." It gives me 
 a chance to die and come back to earth as a ghost, 
 which would be most thrilling. And the villain 
 is the awfullest villain I ever came across. It's 
 a real tragedy, too. Everybody gets killed, and 
 the villain who does the foul murders finally dies 
 of remorse, which is the way he ought to die. 
 There is a witch, who has a boiling caldron, like 
 a real fairy-story witch, and she and the villain 
 plot the kilHng of some of the others. The play 
 
124 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 is short, which is in its favor, for we will not have 
 so much to learn. I hope Hal and I can get the 
 others to agree with us on "Bianca." 
 
CHAPTER X 
 
 Saturday, April 8. 
 
 Vacation is over! I hardly know where the 
 week has gone. It seemed such a long time when 
 I thought about it and now that it is all over it 
 seems very short. But it has been a great week 
 just the same. 
 
 We Barnstormers have stuck pretty close to- 
 gether all the time. First, of course, was the play, 
 and since that we have been at work on the Barn- 
 ville, making it into a still better theatre. 
 
 We have a new scene made out of wall-paper. 
 It is to use when we want a room scene, or a "hall 
 in the palace," or a "chamber in the palace," or 
 any other inside setting. This new scene cost 
 us only fifty cents, which was very cheap, and 
 hardly makes a hole in the money we took in at 
 the play. 
 
 But if that new scene didn't cost much in 
 money, we made up for that in work. The first 
 
 MS 
 
126 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 thing we did was to make a frame, ten feet long 
 and eight feet wide, out of edging strips from the 
 mill. In the centre of this we made a doorway 
 opening three feet wide. We braced the whole 
 frame with crosspieces, and then fixed it in place 
 at the back of the stage. We left a passage three 
 feet wide back of it, and that made it come just 
 imder the beam to which the back drop is tacked. 
 When we want to use the back drop we let it 
 down in front of the frame, and when we want 
 to use the room scene, we pull the back drop up 
 and let it rest on top of the beam. 
 
 Yesterday afternoon, after we had the frame 
 made, we went down to Charley Strang's wall- 
 paper store and told him what we were going to 
 do, and that we wanted some plain, dark-green 
 wall-paper. He had two rolls left of just the 
 sort we wanted, and he sold us these for twenty- 
 five cents and threw in enough border paper to 
 go clear across the top of our scene. The border 
 paper is all gilded up, and shows great big pink 
 roses on a background of green clouds. It is very 
 fancy and wiU make our scene look 'most as grand 
 as those they have at the Opera House. 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 127 
 
 To-day we put the paper on the frame and 
 finished the scene. Hal and I made a big pot 
 of paste — the cooked-flour-and-water kind, Kke 
 Charley Strang uses when he comes here to hang 
 wall-paper — and then we all set to work to get 
 the paper pasted to the frame. 
 
 We put paste all over the back of the paper 
 with an old whitewash brush, and then we folded 
 the pasty sides together, just like the real 
 paper-hangers do. After we had all the strips 
 pasted I got up on a step-ladder and we opened 
 up one strip. Then I pasted it to the top of the 
 frame, folding part of it over, and rubbing it 
 hard so it would stick, and John and Hal stretched 
 it and pasted the outside edge to the up-and-down 
 edge of the frame and the bottom to the bottom 
 edge. 
 
 The second strip was harder to put up because 
 part of it came over the door opening and had 
 to be cut and fitted. Another thing that made it 
 hard to paste was the joining of the edge with the 
 edge of the first strip. There was nothing back 
 of these two edges to make a firm place to rub 
 them together, so one of us had to stand behind 
 
128 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 and another in front, and just press the edges 
 together until they stuck. 
 
 Finally we got the other two strips up and 
 were ready to put on the border. That wasn't 
 so hard to do, for it was all in one piece, and it 
 stuck to the other paper quite easily. 
 
 As the paper dried, it drew up and stretched 
 on the frame as tight as a drumhead. It looks 
 great! The only trouble is that we will have to 
 be very careful not to punch holes in it. 
 
 We masked — that's what the "Hints to Ama- 
 teur Thespians" would call it — we masked the 
 part at the back of the door opening with an old 
 portiere that Larry foimd at home in the attic. 
 When the door is supposed to open outdoors we 
 can put a few branches back of it to look Kke a 
 tree. 
 
 The new scene certainly does look good. When 
 you look at it you can hardly beUeve it cost only 
 fifty cents. But that was all. The edging strips 
 were a quarter, and the wall-paper the same. 
 
 We still have over two dollars in the treasury 
 which we intend to save and use for the next 
 show. 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 129 
 
 What that next show is to be we have not yet 
 decided, but I think Hal and I will carry our point, 
 and the Barnstormers will give "Bianca." The 
 other plays in the "Comic Tragedies" are too 
 long or too hard for us just at present. " Bianca " 
 is short and easy, and the parts are all pretty 
 good. John doesn't Hke the part of Adalbert — 
 he is the hero — ^because Adelhert has so little to 
 do. The main thing he does is to die. But dy- 
 ing would be quite thrilHng — the make-believe 
 kind, I mean. 
 
 The only part for Larry is a witch, but he says 
 he would rather not have a part this time, but be 
 stage-manager and property-man and run the 
 show while the rest of us do the acting. Anyway, 
 he will make the East-End baseball team and he 
 won't have much time from now on to give to 
 the Barnstormers. 
 
 I suppose John will have to "double" on the 
 part of the witch if we give "Bianca," because 
 he is about the only one who will be free during 
 that act. He doesn't appear at the same time 
 as the witch, and could "double" just as well as 
 not on the hero part and that. 
 
I30 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 I do not know when we will give "Bianca" if 
 we do decide to give it. Some time, I suppose, 
 in about a month. It is short enough to get 
 ready without so very much work. 
 
 Wednesday, April 12. 
 
 School again! Two months more of it, then 
 vacation, and after that I will start to high school. 
 
 You always think when vacation comes that 
 you never want to see school again, but it always 
 seems good to get back and see everybody. 
 
 Every one at school has heard about our play. 
 If we are not careful the whole school will be want- 
 ing to join the Barnstormers. 
 
 We had a short meeting to-night and talked 
 about our next play. We have about decided 
 on "Bianca." John and Larry have come around 
 and are in favor of it, because they see it is the 
 only thing we can give now. 
 
 The story of "Bianca^' is very thrilling. It is 
 a real tragedy, which means that the people all 
 get killed off. Of course, it is very serious, but 
 that doesn^t matter. We all prefer serious plays. 
 
 There are five characters. Bianca, who is the 
 heroine, is a Spanish lady. Adelbert is her lover. 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS ' 131 
 
 Htum, the villain, is also in love with Bianca, 
 but she does not Hke him and will not listen to 
 his suit. Then there's the witch Hilda, and Jtuin, 
 who is Bianca^s page. 
 
 In the first act, which takes place in a wood, 
 Huon enters and tells of his love for Bianca and 
 his hatred for Adelbert. He knows that the lovers 
 are to meet on that very spot later in the evening, 
 so he hides in the bushes to watch them. Bianca 
 and Adelbert come, and with Huon listening to 
 them they pHght their everlasting love. They 
 use beautiful language, and the scene is very fine. 
 At last Adelbert says he must go, but first prom- 
 ises to sing beneath Bianca^s window on the fol- 
 lowing night. The lovers are supposed to sing 
 a duet at parting, because the play is an operatic 
 tragedy, but we are going to cut out the singing — 
 all except that which is absolutely necessary. 
 Well, Adelbert leaves, and Bianca starts to go 
 home. As she turns to go she says : " Ah, love, thou 
 magic power, thus ever make my breast thy home. 
 Adieu, dear spot! I fly to happiness and " 
 
 Then Huon steps out and says "Me!" 
 
 Bianca shrieks and tries to escape. 
 
 Huon makes her listen to his words of love, 
 
132 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 but she will not have anything to do with him. 
 She tells him she hates him and she wishes never 
 to see him more. That makes him awfully mad, 
 and when she is gone he swears to win her and 
 at the same time take a deep revenge. 
 
 The second scene is old Hilda's cave in the 
 forest. Hilda is supposed to be bending over a 
 caldron when the curtain rises. That will give 
 us a fine opportunity for a good setting. We can 
 pile up wood, and stuff the chinks with red paper, 
 and have a small lamp inside to make it look 
 like fire. Then on top of this we can put an old 
 iron kettle and fill it with boihng water. I don't 
 know yet how we can make the entrance to the 
 cave, but we will figure it out some way. 
 
 Huon comes to old Hilda for a love philter 
 which will make the person to whom he gives it 
 fall madly in love with him. His plan is to give 
 this to Bianca, so she will cease to love Adelbert 
 and fall in love with him. Hilda gives him a 
 little bottle of blood-red stuff that she says will 
 do the work. He goes off quite happy because 
 he thinks that now he can make Bianca his. But 
 old Hilda laughs when he is gone because she 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 133 
 
 has given him a deadly draught of poison. "Poor 
 fool," she says, "thou little thinkest thy love- 
 charm is a deadly draught, and they who quaff 
 it die. When thou shalt seek thy lady, hoping 
 for her love, a dead bride thou wilt win. Ha! 
 ha! Old Eilda^s spells work silently and well." 
 In the third scene Huon stops Juan, who is Bi- 
 anca^s page, as he is taking wine to his lady. 
 Hiwn asks the page to stoop down and fasten his 
 shoe, and while the boy is kneehng he empties 
 the little bottle into the glass of wine. He thinks 
 now that he has won Bianca, and so he says, or 
 sings, whichever he wants to do: 
 
 "Ha! ha! 't is done! 't is done! 
 My vengeance now is won. 
 And ere to-morrow's sun shall set, 
 Thou, haughty lady, shall forget 
 The lover who now hastes to thee, 
 And smile alone, alone on me." 
 
 The fourth scene is in Bianca^ s castle — "A 
 moonHt balcony." Bianca is waiting for AdelberL 
 Soon she hears him singing beneath the balcony. 
 
134 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 "The moon is up, wake, lady, wake! 
 My bark is moored on yonder lake, 
 The stars' soft eyes alone can see 
 My meeting, dear one, here with thee. 
 
 " Wake, dearest, wake ! Lean from thy bower, 
 The moonlight gleams on tree and flower, 
 The summer sky smiles soft above; 
 Look down on me, thou star of love." 
 
 We didn't know how we would manage to have 
 this simg, because John doesn't sing, but Hal 
 thought of a way out of the difficulty. Larry's 
 cousin sings very well, and has been quite interested 
 in the Barnstormers, so we are going to ask him to 
 sing the song to a mandoHn accompaniment. I 
 will play that, for I can play the mandoHn fairly 
 well. I am fixing up an air now to go with the 
 song. Hal thinks I ought to play before the cur- 
 tain goes up, but I think differently, and, since I 
 am the one who would have to do the playing, I 
 guess my "think" will go. 
 
 Well, after Adelbert has sung this song he climbs 
 up on the balcony and joins Bianca. They get 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 135 
 
 quite spooney, and tell each other how deep their 
 love is, and all that sort of thing. Adelhert says 
 he is weary — not of making love, I guess, but just 
 general weariness, maybe from rowing across the 
 lake — so Bianca offers him the wine Juan has 
 just brought her, and he drinks it. But it is the 
 wine that Euon poisoned with the supposed love 
 philter. Adelhert has barely swallowed it when 
 he cries out: "Ah! What is this? — a deadly pang 
 hath seized me. All grows dark before mine eyes. 
 I cannot see thee. Yon cup — 't was poisoned! I 
 am dying! dying!" 
 
 That drives Bianca about crazy. She tries to 
 save him, but it is no use. Old Hilda's poison is 
 too strong. Then she wishes to join him in death, 
 but the cup is empty and she cannot die by the 
 same draught. So she faints on Adelherfs dead 
 body, and the curtain goes down. 
 
 The fifth scene is the garden of Bianca^ s castle. 
 Bianca is mourning for her lost Adelhert. She 
 sings a song about some faded flowers that are 
 all that remain of a bouquet he once gave her. 
 
 "Faded flowers, faded flowers. 
 They are all now left to cherish; 
 
136 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 For the hopes and joys of my young life's 
 
 spring 
 I have seen so darkly perish. 
 
 "Cold, ah, cold, in the lone, dark grave, 
 My murdered love lies low, 
 And death alone can bring sure rest 
 To this broken heart's deep woe. 
 
 "Faded flowers, faded flowers. 
 They are all now left to cherish; 
 For ah, his dear hand gathered them, 
 And my love can never perish." 
 
 I am afraid I shall have a hard time singing 
 this, but I am going to try, and I mean to play 
 my own accompaniment, too. That ought to make 
 quite a hit. Maybe if I play well people will 
 npt notice that I sing badly. 
 
 Just as Bianca finishes this song, Emm comes 
 in. Bianca does not want to have anything to 
 do with him. "Fiend! Demon!" she says. 
 "Touch me not with hands that murdered him. 
 Hence! Out of my sight— away!" 
 
 But Eiwn will not go. He tries to make Bi- 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 137 
 
 anca listen to his love, and when she will not he 
 tells her that he did not murder Adelhert on pur- 
 pose, but that he put a supposed love philter in 
 her wine, Httle dreaming that it was poison. 
 
 Bianca does not beUeve him, and tells him she 
 will betray him as the murderer of AdelberL This 
 makes him very angry and he stabs her. She 
 dies crying: "Adelbert, I come, I come!" 
 
 Then Huon is very sorry and doesn't know what 
 to do. But he hears some one coming, so he flees. 
 
 The last act is in Elton's room. He is asleep. 
 Blanco's ghost enters and touches him. He starts 
 up wildly, sees that it is the spirit of Bianca, and, 
 after begging her to leave him, dies of remorse 
 and fright. 
 
 I think that is some tragedy all right. Wo- 
 0-0-0-0! It will be great to come back as the 
 ghost. 
 
 We are going to fix up the stage in the best way 
 we can. We have the new scene to use, and we 
 are planning to fix up a garden scene that will be a 
 corker. We will get plants in pots to put about, 
 and have a balustrade, like you see in garden 
 scenes on the stage, and have a rustic bench for 
 
138 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 Bianca to sit on. It will be a very pretty scene, 
 I think. 
 
 The witch's cave gives us another fine chance 
 for a good scene. We haven't been able to de- 
 cide how we will fix it yet, but we will find a way. 
 
 Next week we intend to copy off the parts and 
 start learning them. We will have a few reading 
 rehearsals and then begin on the regular ones. 
 We ought to be able to have the show ready in a 
 month. 
 
 We do not know who to have for Juan, Bianca^s 
 page. It ought to be a Kttle kid, but I don't 
 know any Httle kids that I would want around. 
 Hal suggested Herbert Hilton, who is in the 
 seventh grade and small for his age. Probably we 
 will have him, since we all Hke him pretty well. 
 
 Of course, "Bianca" isn't a sure thing yet, but 
 I think it will be. It is a good play, and not too 
 long. If we give it within a month we will prob- 
 ably not give any more shows till after school is 
 out. Say, it will be great this summer when we 
 have a fine, long vacation with nothing to do but 
 mow the lawns and sprinkle the streets and give 
 shows! 
 
CHAPTER XI 
 
 Tuesday, April i8. 
 
 Sunday I had a talk with dad about the Barn- 
 stormers, and I told him I didn't like this busi- 
 ness of playing girls' parts all the time. He 
 laughed and said he didn't blame me, but that I 
 shouldn't feel badly because I had historical prec- 
 edent for doing it. Historical precedent didn't 
 console me much because I had no idea what 
 it meant. But dad explained that it meant that 
 other people had done a thing before you did 
 it — that it had once been the common way of 
 doing a thing. 
 
 "Well," I said, "was it ever common for boys 
 to play girls' parts in plays?" 
 
 "Not only common," said dad, "but the rule. 
 There were no women on the stage at one time, 
 and all the female parts were taken by boys and 
 young men." 
 
 "When was that?" I asked. "Must have been 
 
 a long time ago." 
 
 139 
 
140 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 "Yes," dad said, "it was a long time ago. 
 About three hundred years ago, to be exact. 
 When Shakespeare wrote his plays, and they were 
 given in the old Globe theatre in Southwark, 
 which is across the Thames from London, the 
 * leading ladies' were boys very little older than 
 yourself. Ophelia, and Desdemona, and Lady 
 Macbeth, and all the other great heroines of 
 Shakespeare, were 'created' — as we say to-day 
 when a role is played for the first time — ^by boys; 
 and none of them were ever played by women 
 until long after Shakespeare was dead.'' 
 
 Then dad took down a book he has which tells 
 about the companies of actors in Shakespeare's 
 time, and about the boys who played the female 
 parts in the plays. Most often these boys be- 
 longed to some of the men in the company — that 
 is, they were children of these men, or had been 
 adopted by them. So, in the old playbills, some 
 of which were given in the book, the boys who 
 played the female parts are not named, but just 
 put down as So-and-so's "boy. " Fimny, isn't it? 
 I doubt if they were always well treated, and 
 yet on the whole they must have had a pretty 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 141 
 
 good time of it. The actors were a happy-go- 
 lucky lot who oftentimes didn't know where their 
 next meal was to come from, but shared what 
 they had with one another, and took their good 
 fortime and bad fortime smilingly. So I imagine 
 the boys in the companies liked the life and en- 
 joyed themselves, though they had to work hard 
 learning long speeches and rehearsing plays. 
 
 The crowds that came to the theatres were a 
 jolly lot, too, and the boys probably had friends 
 among the apprentices in the pit. The way the 
 theatres were built then they were open to the 
 sky in the centre, and only the stage and the 
 rows of galleries were roofed over. The open 
 part was called the pit, and ran back from the 
 stage to the rows of galleries at the sides and 
 rear. This was the cheapest part of the theatre, 
 for it had neither seats nor roof. The appren- 
 tices were boys who were "boxmd out'' to learn 
 trades. They didn't have much money, but they 
 liked the theatre, and so they saw the play from 
 the pit, standing just as near the stage as they 
 could crowd. People who wanted to pay more 
 sat in the galleries, and those who wanted the 
 
142 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 most expensive seats sat on chairs which were 
 placed right on the stage, though over to one 
 side, so as not to bother the actors. 
 
 But the theatrical companies didn't always 
 stay in London. They went on tours just as 
 they do to-day. Only there were no railroads 
 then, so the players had to travel in wagons 
 from town to town. The people outside of Lon- 
 don looked on the actors in these travelling com- 
 panies as no better than tramps and vagabonds, 
 and often the mayor of a town wouldn't let them 
 play in it at all. Maybe they were not any too 
 honest, but that old saying dad and I found in 
 that book seems a Httle hard on them. The 
 women used to call to one another: "Take in 
 your washing! The players are coming!" 
 
 There were no regular theatres outside of Lon- 
 don, but the courtyards of the inns, as the hotels 
 were called then, made fine places for plays to be 
 given, for they were square, or oblong, with gal- 
 leries, or porches, running all around, one above 
 the other. When a company wanted to give a 
 play, a platform was put up at one end of the 
 courtyard, the curtains which served as scenery 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 143 
 
 were hung, and the audience sat in the galleries, 
 or stood about in the yard itself. In our copy 
 of "Pickwick" one of the illustrations shows an 
 old inn courtyard, and from that it is easy to see 
 how these courtyards were fine places to give 
 plays. 
 
 In addition to the companies of grown-up ac- 
 tors there were children's companies in Shake- 
 speare's time, too. The companies of regular ac- 
 tors didn't Hke these children's companies at all, 
 because they took business away from them and 
 were favorites at court, where they appeared be- 
 fore the queen more often than the grown-up 
 actors did. 
 
 One of these companies was called "Paul's 
 Boys," because it was made up of the choir-boys 
 of Saint Paul's cathedral in London. These boys 
 lived together at the expense of the church, many 
 of them being orphans, and others coming from 
 poor families. A choirmaster had charge of them, 
 and to take up their spare time he trained them 
 to give plays. Many of these plays were musical, 
 but often they were just straight dramatic per- 
 formances. 
 
144 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 Another company was known as the " Children 
 of the Chapel Royal," because it was made up of 
 the choir-boys of the queen^s chapel. This com- 
 pany performed quite often at court before Eliza- 
 beth. 
 
 But it was quite different from the way the 
 Barnstormers give plays, because these choir-boys 
 were trained by the choirmaster, and their per- 
 formances were very serious affairs. Still, I im- 
 agine they had some good times, too. They 
 wouldn't have been kids if they hadn't. It must 
 have been fun acting at the queen's revels, and 
 having Elizabeth herself, maybe, come up and pat 
 you on the head when the show was over, and 
 tell you what a nice boy you were, and maybe 
 give you cakes and sweetmeats. But I guess she 
 didn't always do that, for the book tells about 
 one time when the Children of the Chapel Royal 
 acted before EHzabeth at Christmas, and some- 
 thing in the play was so displeasing to her that 
 she went into a fit of temper then and there. She 
 refused to let the play go on, and the poor kids 
 had to go home without any pat on the head, or 
 any cakes, or anything. It was several years be- 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 145 
 
 fore Elizabeth would have this company appear 
 before her again, but later the Children of the 
 Chapel Royal gave a play at court every Christ- 
 mas. 
 
 Like the companies of grown-up actors, the 
 children's companies made tours, giving their 
 plays in all the towns near London. They were 
 better received by the townspeople, because they 
 were kids I suppose. They gave their perform- 
 ances in the inn courtyards, Kke the other com- 
 panies, for there were no other places where plays 
 could be given. Sometimes, however, they were 
 invited to give a private performance at the house 
 of a great noble, and then the play would be given 
 in the big hall of the house. 
 
 In addition to the Children of the Chapel Royal 
 and Paul's Boys, there were several other chil- 
 dren's companies in Shakespeare's time. When 
 Queen Elizabeth visited Windsor Castle the choir- 
 boys of the chapel gave a play, but they didn't 
 make a business of doing it as some of the other 
 boys' choirs did. 
 
 Three of the boys' schools of London had dra- 
 matic companies, too. These were known as the 
 
146 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 "Children of Westminster School," the "Children 
 of the Merchant Tailors' School," and the "Chil- 
 dren of Eton." 
 
 Later, after Elizabeth's death, when King James 
 I came to the throne, a company known as the 
 "Children of the Queen's Revels" gave plays at 
 court. About the same time, or maybe a little 
 later, a company called "Beeston's Boys," from 
 a man named Bees ton who ran it, gave plays in 
 one of the regular London theatres. 
 
 These boys were picked up off the street, and 
 a few were kidnapped. They were all practically 
 owned by Beeston, who was accused of treating 
 them pretty badly. The company was quite pop- 
 ular in London for a time, but finally went to 
 pieces because Beeston got into trouble with the 
 king over something that was said in one of the 
 plays. 
 
 Beeston's Boys were the last children's company 
 of any importance. In 1649, when King Charles 
 I was executed, and the Round Heads came into 
 power, the theatres were all closed, not to open 
 again imtil King Charles II came to the throne 
 in 1660. When the theatres did reopen, women 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 147 
 
 began to appear on the stage, and female parts 
 were no longer taken by boys. 
 
 It does make me feel different to know all this. 
 I don't think I shall mind playing Bianca at all 
 now. And somehow the Barnstormers mean a 
 great deal more to me. That was a big hunch I 
 had up in the bam loft that rainy Saturday after- 
 noon! 
 
 Sunday April 23. 
 
 "Bianca'* is coming along well, even with all the 
 other things we are doing. Baseball takes a lot 
 of our time, and other things take it, too. When 
 the weather is nice you can do so many things 
 you can't do when it's bad. You just feel, some- 
 times, as though you must go fishing; and then 
 again you feel like you had to find out whether 
 the brown thrush that nested in the wild-rose 
 bush back in the pasture is there again this year; 
 and the bluebird in the old orchard has the same 
 branch in the same apple-tree. Saturdays just 
 go without your hardly knowing that they have 
 happened at all. You work in the garden, and 
 rake the leaves off the lawn in the morning, and 
 
148 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 play baseball in the afternoon — and Saturday is 
 gone! 
 
 Still, as I said, "Bianca" is coming along. Hal 
 is just great as the villain. He likes the part 
 better than that of Bernardo in our first play. 
 Euon is such a bloody old customer that it is 
 great sport to act the part. Hal growls and 
 rumbles through it like a real stage villain. 
 
 Of his two parts, John likes the witch better 
 than the hero. He is going to be good as old 
 Hilda, too. He gets his voice way up, so that it 
 soimds cracked and shrill, and when he laughs 
 he cackles in the most horrible way you could 
 imagine. He makes the cold chills fairly do a 
 cake-walk up and down your back-bone. 
 
 We find "Bianca" much easier than we found 
 "The Captive of Castile." Maybe it is because 
 this is not our first attempt, and that was. But 
 there are other reasons, too, chief of which is the 
 fact that the play is only about half as long. 
 
 We know the first and second scenes and are 
 learning the third. Since there are only six 
 scenes in the play, we can soon have it ready. 
 We are planning to give it May 6th. 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 149 
 
 Hal and I made a change in the Bamville the 
 other day that will give us more room for dress- 
 ing and an easier way to reach the second floor 
 than the way we have been going, which was by 
 a ladder up the hay chute. We cut a hole into 
 the carriage house from the rear of the stage and 
 put a ladder up to that. We moved the dressing- 
 rooms then from the old stalls, which had clay 
 floors and were still smelly, out to the carriage 
 house, which has a wooden floor and is much 
 nicer. 
 
 I mustn't forget to mention that the part of 
 Juan is to be played by Herbert Hilton. We 
 asked him yesterday. He is to become a real 
 Barnstormer at the initiation next Saturday. 
 
 We are planning a great time. We are going 
 to have a thing you call a ritual, which Hal says 
 is necessary in all secret societies, and then we 
 are going to have a second degree followed by a 
 spread. 
 
 The second degree is where you do the funny 
 stunts. Of course we are not going to hurt Her- 
 bert, but we intend to have some fun. Hal says 
 he has planned a goat, made out of a rocking- 
 
I50 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 chair and a fur rug, that ought to make a live goat 
 seem as tame as a pet canary. 
 
 Hal and John and I are going to write the 
 ritual, which is to be very solemn and awful, 
 some time this week. Hal got the idea from a 
 book about the Knights of the Golden Circle, 
 who used to have meetings in caves back during 
 the time of the Civil War. 
 
 Our high potentate is to be called Thespis, and 
 Shakespeare is to be the guide and friend of the 
 "candidate.'' 
 
 The initiation is to be held in the barn — I mean 
 the Bamville — but the spread will come off in 
 my room up at the house. We are going to have 
 ice-cream and cake and grape juice. Larry 
 wanted mince pie, but John said we would prob- 
 ably dream of our grandmothers' ghosts without 
 it, and he didn't care to have any other ghosts 
 brought on the scene, not to mention feehng like 
 you never wanted to get up the morning after. 
 So the mince pie is left out. 
 
CHAPTER XII 
 
 Thursday, April 27 
 
 Hal and I have been working on our ritual 
 during all the spare moments we could get, and 
 this afternoon we finished it. We are quite proud 
 of our job. The ritual soimds fine and is writ- 
 ten in most beautiful language. But I mustn't 
 brag, because Hal did most of the writing. 
 
 We couldn't decide at first whether to write 
 
 the ritual in poetry or not, but we finally decided 
 
 it would sound better rhymed. Rhyming isn't 
 
 hard to do at all. Since trying it I quite have a 
 
 notion to be a poet instead of a dramatist. Only, 
 
 the newspapers say poetry is out of date, and all 
 
 dramatists are becoming millionaires, so I guess 
 
 I had better stick to the first ambition. When 
 
 you want to write poetry all you have to do is 
 
 to turn to the rhyming dictionary, which is found 
 
 in the back part of most regular dictionaries, 
 
 and start in. Of course, what you write won't 
 
 always sound hke Tennyson or Longfellow, but 
 
 151 
 
152 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 it will be quite as good as the poetry that is on 
 the inside of the town newspaper every Satur- 
 day. 
 
 Before we began to write, Hal and I planned 
 just what was to happen and about how long the 
 ritual was to be. There are four persons in it— 
 Shakespeare, who is the guide of the candidate; 
 Thespis, who is the chief high exalted ruler; and 
 two actors who give advice and counsel to the 
 candidate. 
 
 Before the ritual begins the candidate is to 
 be bHndfolded. Then we are going to walk him 
 around in circles till he doesn't know where he 
 is. After that he is to be left for five minutes' 
 silent "meditation" — ^which we think will get 
 him properly scared. About the time he is be- 
 ginning to think of making a break for home, 
 Shakespeare, his friend and guide, enters. He 
 knocks three times on the floor with his staff, and 
 then speaks: 
 
 " Greetings, my friend, but first, I'll give my name, 
 Which may, perhaps, be not imknown to fame; 
 For I am William Shakespeare, and your friend. 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 153 
 
 Who comes to lead you to your journey's end. 
 For IVe been told a Barnstormer you'd be, 
 And this night all the mysteries would see. 
 Come — let me guide you." 
 
 Then he takes the candidate's arm and they 
 walk aroimd in a circle. After that Shakespeare 
 knocks three times on the floor with his staff. 
 
 Thespis, the chief high exalted ruler of the 
 Ancient Order of Barnstormers, is seated on a 
 throne. He is all draped up in a sheet and has 
 a long white beard. The two actors, each in a 
 black mask, stand on either side of him. 
 
 Thespis speaks: 
 
 "What ho! And who doth wish to enter here? 
 If he be worthy, bid him then good cheer." 
 
 Shakespeare says: 
 
 "I bring a would-be Thespian to your throne; 
 I found him waiting friendless and alone; 
 I brought him thither, and I beg to bring 
 Him in unto yom: feet, oh mighty King! " 
 
154 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 Then Thespis, after a pause, speaks again. 
 John is to play Thespis, and we want him to do 
 the speeches in his best actor manner. 
 
 "If he be worthy, let him then into 
 The presence of the royal, chosen few." 
 
 Shakespeare brings in the candidate. They 
 walk about in a circle again. The First Actor 
 stops them. He says: 
 
 "What ho, and who is this? The password, 
 stand!" 
 
 Shakespeare says: 
 
 Barnstormers' Barnville ! ' " (This is the pass- 
 word, and is given in a whisper.) "One who'd 
 join your band." 
 
 First Actor. Before he is admitted to our King, 
 He first must know one sacred, secret thing: 
 The password, which in whispers must be spoke: 
 "Barnstormers' Barnville," and it is no joke! 
 Pass on your way, take care not to forget: 
 "Barnstormers' Barnville"; friend, I'm glad we've 
 met. 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 155 
 
 Shakespeare says: 
 
 " Come now, my friend, we must be on our way, 
 And reach the end of this, our noble play." 
 
 They walk around in a circle again. The Sec- 
 ond Actor hails them: 
 
 "What ho! Friends, travellers, 't is the King ye 
 seek? 
 Shakespeare. Even so; we go in spirit mild 
 
 and meek. 
 Second Actor. Before the throne you are al- 
 lowed to reach, 
 
 I have three things I unto you must teach. 
 
 First, know the actor 's art's a noble thing; 
 
 Second, that Thespis, who is here our King, 
 
 In Greece first introduced the actor's art 
 
 In which each man must play his Httle part. 
 
 Thirds that here each man must be loyal and true. 
 
 And always strive his very best to do." 
 
 Once more they pass on. This time they come 
 up to Thespis, The candidate has his bhndfold 
 taken off and is made to bow before the throne. 
 Then Thespis speaks: 
 
iS6 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 "Greetings, traveller, greetings, loyal friend; 
 At last you now have reached your journey's end. 
 A Barnstormer you are, or soon will be. 
 When you have had the second high degree." 
 
 Then the candidate is blindfolded again and the 
 fun starts. 
 
 We do not know yet just what we will do in the 
 second degree, but it is to be funny and harmless. 
 Hal is quite sure that his patent goat will be an 
 improvement over anything else that ever existed, 
 live goats included. He first intended to use only 
 one rocker, but he uses two in the improved model. 
 The part where you ride is covered with a fur 
 rug so it will feel nice and woolly. 
 
 We have not yet decided on the other stimts. 
 
 Friday, April 28. 
 
 Another week gone! I am glad to-morrow is 
 Saturday. 
 
 "Bianca" is coming along fine, so we have de- 
 cided to give it a week from to-morrow night. 
 That means we will have to hustle, but I am sure 
 we can have the play ready. Most of the work 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 157 
 
 will fall to Hal and me, for John, being in high 
 school, has all sorts of things to take up his time, 
 and Larry is so busy with baseball that the 
 Barnstormers hardly count. We will have Her- 
 bert to help us, and, since he is a new member, 
 we intend to make him do a Httle more than his 
 share. That may not sound very nice, but I think 
 it is quite right that he should earn his member- 
 ship in the Barnstormers. Herbert has been to 
 rehearsals this week and has done very well with 
 the part of Juan. He is a nice little kid, and we 
 all like him. 
 
 We are going to tell about "Bianca" in to- 
 morrow's Gimlet, I helped write the stuff and 
 also helped Hal set up the paper to-day. We 
 have written the "copy" for the bills and pro- 
 gramme, but those are not set up yet. 
 
 Herbert's first appearance on any stage is good 
 advertising dope, and we are going to use it to 
 the Hmit. The fact is announced in the bills and 
 on the programme, and will be announced from 
 the stage the night of the show. 
 
 The scenery for "Bianca'' is 'most all ready, 
 except the garden scene and the witch's cavern. 
 
158 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 Hal and I are going to make a balustrade out of 
 pasteboard colored with crayons to use in the 
 garden scene. We wanted some steps and a plat- 
 form at the back of the stage, but I am afraid we 
 can't have them. An3rway, the leaves are all out 
 on the trees now, and we can have lots of green 
 branches to bank in the back of the stage. The 
 garden scene will be easy compared with that 
 witch's cavern. There is supposed to be a sort 
 of entrance to a cave at one side of the stage. 
 In this stands the caldron where old Hilda mixes 
 her magic potions. How we are to make that 
 cave is beyond me. Hal thinks we can make a 
 frame out of edging strips and cover it with some 
 roofing paper we foimd in the bam. But that 
 would take a lot of time, and I don't think the 
 result would look much like a cave. But we will 
 find a way — we always do. 
 
 Sunday, April 30. 
 
 The initiation last night was a great success. 
 I told Herbert before the thing started that he 
 needn't be afraid, because we were not go- 
 ing to hurt him. I thought it was best. You 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 159 
 
 never know about little kids. Herbert is only 
 twelve. 
 
 The ritual went off pretty well, even if we did 
 have to read our parts, not having had time to 
 learn them. Hal was Shakespeare; John was 
 Thespis; Larry was the First Actor, and I was 
 the second one. 
 
 We all had trouble to keep from laughing. It 
 seemed so funny to be going through all that sol- 
 emn stuff. None of us really meant to laugh — 
 not even Larry, though he made us all do it once. 
 Larry would laugh at his own funeral. The laugh 
 happened when Larry started to read the part of 
 the First Actor. He began it singsong style, which 
 is just his natural way of reading. When he came 
 to the part about the password — 
 
 "The password, which in whispers must be spoke: 
 * Barnstormers' Bamville,' and it is no joke." 
 
 — ^he added a "he-haw" of his own. We all 
 laughed — even Herbert. We had been wanting 
 to laugh before, because the whole ritual sounded 
 sort of silly. It wasn't nearly as solemn as Hal 
 and I thought it would be. I guess we all should 
 
i6o THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 be glad Larry tacked on that "he-haw," because 
 it is hard on you to hold in a laugh that wants 
 to come out, and that gave us an excuse. 
 
 John, although he laughed, too, said it was very 
 unfortunate that the laugh was made necessary, 
 because the dignity of the occasion — whatever 
 that is — ^was quite spoiled. 
 
 John read the part of Thespis very well. He 
 sat behind a table with two candles on it, and he 
 was all draped up in a sheet and had a long beard 
 made out of cotton-wool. He looked quite ter- 
 rible, and I think he scared Herbert a Httle when 
 the blindfold was taken off and Herbert saw John 
 in all his glory. 
 
 The second degree was great sport. HaPs goat 
 lived up to its full reputation and was much bet- 
 ter than a live one, being quite as funny and less 
 trouble to handle. We put the candidate on the 
 goat and started it to rock, with the result that 
 Herbert thought he was going to be thrown into 
 the air or tossed against the side of the bam. 
 The two rockers, out of which the goat is made, 
 are put together in such a way that you rock 
 over in one direction so far, get a terrible jolt. 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS i6i 
 
 and start back in the other direction. When you 
 are sitting astraddle of the thing and it is started 
 in motion, you get a very funny feeling. We had 
 all tried it before Herbert did, so we knew just 
 how it felt. Herbert couldn't help laughing — in 
 fact, we all just yelled. I don't think he was really 
 scared, because he is a plucky little kid and you 
 can't scare him very easily. 
 
 The "baptismal well" was the other part of 
 the initiation. I invented that, and I think it 
 was a first-rate idea. We put a tub full of water 
 at the bottom of the old hay chute. When the 
 time came to use the "well" we let a bucket down 
 on a rope and brought it up full of water, all of 
 which we let Herbert, who was still bUndfolded, 
 hear us do. We talked about the old well that 
 had been under the bam since the bam was built, 
 and Hal told about having fished snakes and toads 
 and rats out of it. When we brought up the 
 bucket we each took a drink out of it — or rather 
 pretended to take a drink — and then offered some 
 to Herbert. John said the snake flavor was very 
 strong — ^he thought rattlers must Hve in the well, 
 since the water tasted like rattlesnake oil smelled. 
 
i62 THE B.\RXSTORMERS 
 
 Lany said he amid get the taste ol dead lats, 
 and he thoi^g^t there must be more cats than 
 nttios in Ae ndL I said I dMN^^ there were 
 more toads^ b ec au s e I coald taste a nice flavor 
 JDSt fike a cellar that had been shut up far a, 
 long time. Hal had a bottle ol some teniMy 
 stinlgr stnff begot at the drag-store^ and wfafle 
 he opened this under Herbert's 
 
 "SmdL the Im/ffy smeai" said Jc^ul ''That 
 soidy is i^ water down in that weQ. No woo- 
 der it has a flavarf 
 
 Then we <tf creel Hexfoert a g^ass of it — which 
 leaSy came out c^ a pitfhfr of drinking water 
 instead of the bucket. Of comse he wouldn't 
 take it— we knew he wouldn't. 
 
 "rn ten yoa what,** said Hal, "there's only 
 one thing to do with hrm, since he wcm't dnnk it. 
 Well pot a rope mider his aims and kt him 
 down into the well itsetf." 
 
 ^fme!*' said Larry, and we all agreed. 
 
 Tlien Herbert said he woold drink the water 
 M we only wouldn't pot him in the wefl. But we 
 were firm. 
 
THE BARNSTORJVIERS 163 
 
 "Down he goes!" said Hal. "It's too good 
 a chance to find out what's really down there. 
 Maybe he can bring ns up a live rattler or so 
 and some choice rats to roast for the feast," 
 
 Herbert kicked and fought, though I think he 
 knew it was all a joke, while we tied a rope 
 under his arms and got ready to let him down 
 the chute. I went below so that I could tell the 
 others when to pull up on the rope. We had 
 taken off Herbert's shoes and stockings, and we 
 only intended to let his feet touch the water and 
 then pull him back. 
 
 Evetything went all right imtil I gave the sig- 
 nal to puU back. Herbert really was scared when 
 his toes touched that cold water in the tub. He 
 kicked and squirmed aroimd so that the rope got 
 away from the boj-s up above, and down he came 
 in the tub of water. For a wonder he landed 
 standing up — ^which was a good thing, since he 
 only got wet to his knees. Eveiybody laughed, 
 including Herbert, and we hauled him up and 
 wiped his feet and legs on an old sack, and helped 
 him put on his shoes and stockings. 
 
 It was so late by that time that we had to give 
 
i64 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 up the rest of the initiation and go up to the 
 house to have our spread. 
 
 We did have the mince pie, after all. Larry 
 got Aunt Pepy, their nigger cook, to make him 
 one, and he brought it over done up in a news- 
 paper. It was ever so good — and I didn't dream 
 about my great-grandmother's ghost, or any other 
 ghost, afterward. 
 
CHAPTER XIII 
 
 Wednesday, May 3. 
 
 I am pasting in last Saturday's Gimlet, which 
 has in it the announcement of our play. We 
 are not going to have any trouble getting a 
 crowd this time. Looks as though we would have 
 more of a crowd than we could take care of. We 
 are going to have a matinee Saturday after- 
 noon. No more two-cent rates, though. The 
 price will be five cents straight. A lot of kids 
 from school are coming, and teacher, and some of 
 the little youngsters in the neighborhood. It isn't 
 easy to give two shows in one day, but regular 
 actors often do it, and I guess we can. 
 
 Well, here's the The Gimlet: 
 16s 
 
i66 
 
 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 THE GIMLET 
 
 April 29. 
 
 Vol. II, No. 10. 
 
 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 IN 
 
 BIANCA 
 
 A Tragedy by Louisa Alcott 
 
 BARNVILLE THEATER 
 
 Matinee and night, 
 
 May 6 
 Admission, 5 cents 
 
 BIANCA 
 
 The Gimlet wishes to call 
 the attention of its readers to 
 the performance of "Bianca" 
 by the famous Barnstormer's 
 Dramatic Club. Theater-go- 
 ers will remember the great 
 success of "The Captive of 
 Castile" a month ago. "Bi- 
 anca" is a shorter play, but 
 very thrilling. The same ex- 
 cellent cast as presented the 
 company's first efifort, "The 
 Captive of Castile," will be 
 seen in " Bianca " ; and in ad- 
 dition, Mr. Herbert Hilton 
 will make his first appearance 
 
 on any stage in the part of 
 Juan, Bianca^s page. 
 
 The play tells the story of 
 woman's love and constancy 
 and man's perfidity. The 
 villain meets a tragic end, 
 which he well deserves. 
 
 The cast is as follows: 
 
 Adelbert, betrothed to Bianca, 
 Mr. John Jameson. 
 Huon, his rival, 
 
 Mr. Harold Jameson. 
 
 Juan, Bianca's page, 
 
 Mr. Herbert Hilton. 
 Bianca, a Spanish lady, 
 
 Mr. Robert Archer. 
 
 Hilda, a witch, 
 
 Mr. John Jameson. 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 167 
 
 THE GIMLET 
 
 April 29 Page 2 
 
 Vol. II, No. 10 
 
 BIANCA 
 {Cont.from page i.) 
 
 The settings for this produc- 
 tion will be very elaborate. 
 The Barnstormers have built 
 entirely new scenery, includ- 
 ing a handsome interior, a 
 garden scene, and a witch's 
 cavern, where wierd Kghting 
 effects will inspire the audi- 
 ences with breathless awe. 
 
 Seats for this elaborate pro- 
 duction of a great play are 
 now on sale. 
 
 EAST-END DEFEATS 
 WEST-END 
 
 The East-End base ball 
 team defeated the West-End 
 team on Thursday afternoon. 
 The score was five to three. 
 Donovan knocked a home run 
 for the East-End in the sixth. 
 
 BUY YOUR 
 
 ATHLETIC SUPPLIES 
 
 AT HANLON'S 
 
 DRUG STORE 
 
 ADVERTISE IN THE 
 GIMLET 
 
 THE GIMLET 
 
 Vol. II, No. 10. 
 
 Published weekly at the Gim- 
 let Press, 246 East 2d St. 
 
 Subscription, 2 cts per copy, 
 5 cts per month, 50 cts per yr. 
 
 Harold Jameson, printer and 
 publisher. 
 
 Editor in chief, Harold Jame- 
 son. 
 
 Subscription manager, Harold 
 Jameson. 
 
 Sporting Editor, Harold Jame- 
 son. 
 
 Newsboy, Harold Jameson. 
 o 
 
 DUST FROM THE 
 GIMLET 
 
 All the world's a stage, so 
 why not a barn for a theater? 
 
 Subscribers come, subscrib- 
 ers go, but we go on forever. 
 
 Six slim, slick, sleek sap- 
 lings arent in it when the 
 Barnstormers' barnstorming 
 batallion beautifully barn- 
 storm beautiful "Bianca." 
 
 LOCALS 
 
 The grass on the court-house 
 lawn was cut for the first time 
 this year on Wednesday. 
 
 Mr. Herbert Hilton has been 
 taken into the Barnstormers' 
 Dramatic Club. 
 
 SEE BIANCA 
 
i68 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 Hal and I think our article about the Barn- 
 stormers is quite a good one. We have been 
 saving clippings about real theatrical companies, 
 and we read those all over before we began to 
 write. We borrowed big words from some of 
 the clippings, but we looked all of them up first 
 in the dictionary so we wouldn't use any of them 
 wrong. 
 
 The programmes and bills are also printed. I 
 am pasting them in, too. 
 
 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 PRESENT 
 BIANCA 
 
 A Tragedy, by Louisa Alcott 
 
 Barnville Theater 
 May Sixth 
 
 Matinee at 2 P. M. 
 Evening at 7:30 P. M. 
 
 Admission 5 cents 
 
 First appearance on 
 
 Any stage of 
 Mr. Herbert Hilton 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 169 
 
 Here is the programme: 
 
 BIANCA 
 
 A Tragedy by Louisa Alcoit. 
 
 Presented by 
 
 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 at the 
 
 BARNVILLE THEATER 
 
 Saturday, May 6 
 
 at 
 
 Two and Seven-thirty P. M. 
 
 CAST 
 
 Adelbert, betrothed to Bianca, Mr. John Jameson. 
 
 Huon, his rival, Mr. Harold Jameson. 
 
 Juan, Bianca's page, Mr. Herbert Hilton. 
 
 Bianca, a Spanish lady, Mr. Robert Archer. 
 
 Hilda, a witch, Mr. John Jameson. 
 
 SYNOPSIS 
 
 Scene I. A wood, night. 
 
 Scene II, Hilda's cave in the forest. 
 
 Scene III. Room in Bianca's house. 
 
 Scene IV . K moonlit balcony on Bianca's castle. 
 
 Scene V. Bianca's garden. 
 
 Scene VI. Huon's chamber. 
 
I70 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 The stage-settings for "Bianca" are coming 
 along all right. Herbert is helping us. He doesn't 
 know much about it, but he can run errands for 
 us and do what we tell him to do. 
 
 That witch's cave is the hardest thing in the 
 scenery Hne that we have had to tackle so far. 
 We wanted it up a httle way off the stage level 
 so that it would look like a real entrance to a 
 real cave. To raise it we took a big flat box, 
 which is about four feet square and two feet high, 
 and made the top of it all lumpy by tacking on 
 some pieces of an old comforter. A smaller box 
 fixed the same way makes a step up to this. The 
 trouble now is to know how to make the upper 
 part of the cave. We have the floor but we 
 have no cave to go over it. The floor is a great 
 success, and looks very cavey — ^like rock, I mean — 
 when we cover up its lumpiness with an old 
 tarpaulin that has turned all gray and spotted 
 from being out in the weather. 
 
 Hal thinks we can make the cave out of a 
 frame and some building-paper, but I don't be- 
 lieve we can. However we make it, it will have to 
 be made soon, since the show is only two days off. 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 171 
 
 The witch's caldron and the fire to go under 
 it are all ready. We have an old iron soap pot 
 for the caldron itself. We make the fire by pil- 
 ing up some stove wood and putting a little red- 
 globed night-lamp on the inside of the pile. Then 
 we stuff up some of the chinks with red and orange 
 tissue-paper, and the thing just looks great. 
 
 The only other light for the scene is to come 
 from the two lamps which are placed back of the 
 first wings on either side of the stage. These are 
 to give a blue light, which we make by standing 
 a shield of oiled blue tissue-paper in front of each 
 lamp. When John, as old Hilda, stirs the boil- 
 ing caldron in that red-and-blue lighted scene we 
 will have the audience spellbound. 
 
 We are planning to use the gray back drop 
 with plenty of green branches against it to give 
 a forest effect to the scene. We are going to 
 scatter leaves around on the floor, too, and give 
 the whole setting what Hal calls a real David 
 Belasco look. When he sprung that I said I 
 didn't see how a stage-setting could look like a 
 man, but Hal said that whether it could or not, 
 the highest compliment you could pay to a stage- 
 
172 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 setting was to say it looked Belascoey. I sup- 
 pose Hal knows. 
 
 If we only had that pesky cave fixed I wouldn't 
 care beans about anything else. If I had time 
 I would take a trip out to Truitt's Cave, which is 
 five miles southwest of town, and get some real 
 cave-Hke ideas on the question. As it is, I have 
 that cave on my mind all the time — ^not Truitt's, 
 but the one in the play — and a cave is a good 
 deal to be carrying about in your head! 
 
 The garden scene hasn't been half so much 
 trouble as that cave. Hal and I made a balus- 
 trade for it which is also to serve on the moonlit 
 balcony in the fourth scene. We cut the spin- 
 dles for the balustrade out of pasteboard — shoe 
 boxes, old suit boxes, just anything, in fact, that 
 we could get. Then we made an oblong frame 
 of edging strips that is two feet wide and seven 
 feet long. We covered the long pieces with strips 
 of pasteboard and pasted the spindles to these. 
 At one end we made a square sort of pedestal 
 to hold a flower-pot. This is just a box covered 
 with pasteboard. We colored the balustrade and 
 the pedestal with crayons, using purple and black 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 173 
 
 and shading with these two colors to give a stone- 
 color. 
 
 The balustrade is to be placed on the left side 
 of the stage, coming out from the middle wing. 
 We will use the gray drop and lots of green 
 branches behind it. Some flowers in pots and 
 a rustic bench will complete the scene. 
 
 The moonht balcony was almost as much 
 trouble to us as the cave has been, but we have 
 it all worked out now. Moonlight was what 
 stumped us all. John finally suggested the magic 
 lantern with a slide of plain blue glass. The 
 blue Hght serves for moonlight very well. 
 
 For the front of this scene we use the new room 
 set which has a wide door at the back. We are 
 going to set it forward a little so there will be 
 plenty of space back of it for the balcony. Then 
 we will run the balustrade across, put some cush- 
 ions and rugs down, ''mask" in back of this with 
 green branches, turn on the blue moonlight, and 
 be ready for Bianca and Adelhert to make love. 
 In the room itself we are going to have nothing 
 but that little red night-lamp. The footlights 
 will be off, and only the blue moonlight, the red 
 
174 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 night-lamp, and the blue-shaded lamps in the side 
 wings will be used to light the scene. It seems 
 as though most of "Bianca" happens in the dark; 
 but so much the better, for it makes the play 
 much more romantic and weird. 
 
 We have had rehearsals every night this week. 
 We know the entire play now, but we still need 
 all the practice we can get. Herbert is doing 
 well as the page, but he says he will be scared to 
 death when the play comes off. 
 
 John is better as Hilda, the witch, than he has 
 been in any other part he has yet tried. His 
 make-up is fine. He is padded out so that he 
 looks humpbacked, and he stoops way over 
 and leans on a cane. He wears an old black skirt 
 and a moth-eaten shawl which comes up over his 
 head and covers the part where his false face 
 leaves off. The false face is a good one all right! 
 It is a real witch's face with a hooked nose and 
 chin that nearly meet. In the dim light, I don't 
 beHeve any one will know it's just a false face. 
 These "artistic" Hghting effects that Hal is so 
 strong for cover a multitude of defects that would 
 never get by in full Hght. 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 175 
 
 I wear the same clothes I did in "The Captive 
 of Castile." We had to make some clothes for 
 Herbert. He has a timic and doublet of bright 
 blue cambric and wears stockings for tights. 
 Hal and John wear the same things as before. 
 
 Thursday, May 4. 
 
 I could shout with joy! We have the cave! 
 Hal and I rigged one up this afternoon. It's 
 just as cavey as can be and looks great. I came 
 to HaFs plan of a frame and building-paper at 
 last, and I am glad I did; but that isn't all we 
 used. We have some old chenille curtains that 
 have faded out from dark blue to no color in par- 
 ticular, and these are hung over the outside of 
 the frame to form the outer part of the cave. They 
 blend in nicely with the gray back drop. The 
 frame is oblong — ^five feet wide and nine high. 
 Over the top of it is a four-foot width of building- 
 paper with the edges all slashed up and jagged, 
 just like rocks. The frame stands up in one cor- 
 ner of the stage — ^it happens to be the left rear 
 one — ^and there is a top frame, four by five feet, 
 that lays across from the upright frame to the 
 
176 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 rear beam of the bam. A lot of jagged pieces of 
 paper hang down on the inside to look like the 
 things that hang down from the roofs of caves — 
 stalactites, I think you call them. We have three 
 of the old curtains, which we drape at the sides 
 and over the top. The padded box, covered with 
 the old tarpaulin, goes inside all this to serve as 
 the floor. The caldron, with the "fire" that goes 
 imder it, is placed on this floor just inside the 
 mouth of the cave. 
 
 When Hal and I finished making the thing this 
 afternoon we just danced around and yelled, we 
 were so pleased with it. We tried the Hghts at 
 rehearsal to-night, and John and Larry and Her- 
 bert were as pleased as we had been. 
 
 To-morrow night is the dress rehearsal. 
 
 Friday, May 5. 
 
 I wish to-morrow was over! Yes, I do! That 
 dress rehearsal to-night went as rotten as anything 
 could go. We forgot and had to be prompted, 
 and we didn't get in on our "cues," and we were 
 always in the wrong instead of the right place 
 on the stage. We even skipped whole speeches 
 and had to go back to them. 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 177 
 
 Larry said he was ashamed of us. That made 
 John sore, and he told him he didn't have any 
 cause to kick when he hadn't had anything to do 
 with getting the show ready. And then Larry 
 said he guessed he had been doing something 
 better — defending the honor of the East-End 
 against the West-End. 
 
 They nearly had a fight, only we made them 
 shake hands before they did. We can't have any 
 scraps the night before a show. 
 
 But it is the truth that the dress rehearsal was 
 terrible. Those pesky songs were the worst part 
 of it all. We didn't have any one to sing Adel- 
 bert^s song at all, though I think Larry's cousin 
 will do it for us to-morrow night. 
 
 No one liked the time I had fixed up for my 
 "Faded Flowers" song, and then I got all mixed 
 up on it besides. 
 
 Poor Herbert was scared stiff, and says he never 
 will be able to speak when the show comes off 
 to-morrow. 
 
 I 'most wish we didn't have any Barnstormers, 
 or any Bamville, or any show! — no I don't, either! 
 It'll all come out all right! Anyway, I'm going to 
 bed and have a good night's sleep. 
 
CHAPTER XIV 
 
 Sunday, May 7. 
 
 It's all over! We have given another play! 
 I think it was a success. Anyway, the people 
 liked the scenery, and that made them forget the 
 acting. 
 
 But we really did much better than we had 
 hoped. You always do when the time comes. 
 The matinee didn't go any too well, but the kids 
 Uked it and teacher thought it was great. I am 
 sorry she didn't see the night show, because we 
 all did very much better at that. 
 
 The afternoon crowd was quite large. We sold 
 
 thirty-one tickets. About half of the crowd was 
 
 made up of kids from school — Hal's and my room, 
 
 and Herbert's. They clapped and clapped after 
 
 every scene, and we all had to take curtain calls, 
 
 and Hal made a speech at the end of the fourth 
 
 scene. He said that the Barnstormers greatly 
 
 appreciated the enthusiasm of the splendid and 
 
 brilHant audience in behalf of their histrionic ef- 
 
 178 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 179 
 
 forts. (He used perfectly immense words !) That 
 it was a source of great satisfaction to be thus 
 enthusiastically received after the long and ardu- 
 ous weeks spent in preparation. He hoped to see 
 all of the same faces back at our next production, 
 which would take place early in the summer va- 
 cation. They all laughed and cheered, and then 
 we went on with the show. 
 
 Since nearly all of "Bianca" takes place in the 
 dark, with blue and red Hght effects, we had to 
 have the Barnville dark for the afternoon show. 
 That was fairly easy to do, though. We darkened 
 it like we did for the matinee of "The Captive 
 of Castile,'^ and the light effects showed up 
 nearly as well as they did at the night show. 
 
 It's queer how all of us brace up and do our 
 best when a lot of people are out in front watch- 
 ing the show. There is something about it you 
 can't quite explain. You feel so different from 
 what you do when you are giving the show to a 
 row of empty seats. You're all wound up, and 
 you feel sort of excited and yet calm, too. Your 
 head is clear, and the lines you are to say and the 
 things you are to do stand out there more clearly 
 
i8o THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 than they ever have before. You feel a sort of 
 throb-throb going on partly in you and partly in 
 the people who are watching you. I can't quite 
 say all I mean, because it's one of those things 
 that won't go into words. Just the same, the 
 throb feeHng is there, and you never will quite 
 forget how it made you feel. 
 
 We were a Uttle bit afraid that we might have 
 trouble at the afternoon show, with all those kids 
 we knew sitting out in the audience watching us. 
 John said they would be sure to laugh at the love- 
 scenes. I was sure that when they saw me dressed 
 up as a girl they would all laugh, but they didn't. 
 The Barnville, all as neat as a pin, and the stage, 
 with its curtain and scenery, took the laugh out 
 of them. They saw we weren't giving just a pre- 
 tend, make-up-as-you-go-along, three-pin-admis- 
 sion, kid show, but a real-for-sure play, and that 
 made them take us seriously. 
 
 We only had one thing happen to spoil the show, 
 and that really wasn't so bad. Lettie Carter, who 
 is just five years old, came with her brother John, 
 who is seven, and their darky nurse, Cassie. Let- 
 tie didn't mind at all about Adelbert dying of 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS i8i 
 
 poison, though she did get sort of excited when 
 he writhed around on the floor; but when Hiion 
 stabbed Bianca — myself — it was too much for 
 Lettie. She set up a terrible howl. Everybody 
 laughed, and we pulled down the curtain, and I 
 came out and bowed. That stopped Lettie's grief, 
 because she saw that I wasn't hurt, after all. 
 
 The crowd in the afternoon behaved better 
 than the crowd at night. "Bianca" was so tragic 
 that the grown-up people found it funny. Maybe 
 the name on the book — "Comic Tragedies" — 
 isn't wrong, after all. Our audience laughed and 
 laughed at the end of each scene, but they seemed 
 to like the play, so we didn't care. 
 
 Our stage-settings were certainly a big success. 
 In the first scene, which is a wood, we used the 
 gray back drop and a great many green branches, 
 maple and beech mostly, with a few evergreens 
 mixed in. We made a Httle thicket at the back 
 where Huon was to hide. Then we put the forked 
 branch, that we used in the first show, down in 
 front for Bianca and Adelbert to sit on. The 
 footlights were not Hghted, but we had "moon- 
 light" made by the magic lantern and the light 
 
i82 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 that came from the blue-shaded lights at the side 
 of the stage. The scene looked fine, and the au- 
 dience clapped for it when the curtain went up. 
 
 But our second, the witch's cavern, was the 
 best. We didn't have to do much to the stage 
 but move the branches around and put up the 
 cave. We used the magic lantern again, but with 
 a red glass sHde this time, throwing the light into 
 the cave entrance so it would look like the glow 
 from the fire. When the curtain went up John, 
 as old Hilda, was bending over the caldron stir- 
 ring it with a long iron spoon. Hal and I, off 
 stage, made a noise like wind whistling through 
 the trees. Old Hilda stirred the caldron and 
 sang a weird chant. This lasted nearly a minute, 
 and then the audience applauded. After they 
 were quiet Hilda reached down under the cal- 
 dron and brought up a handful of things which 
 she dropped into the mixture one by one, sa3dng 
 that speech from the witches' scene in "Macbeth": 
 
 "Round about the caldron go; 
 In the poison'd entrails throw. 
 Toad, that under cold stone 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 183 
 
 Days and nights has thirty-one 
 Swelt'red venom sleeping got, 
 Boil thou first i' the charmed pot! 
 Double, double, toil and trouble; 
 Fire bum and caldron bubble. 
 Fillet of a fenny snake, 
 In the caldron boil and bake; 
 Eye of newt and toe of frog, 
 Wool of bat and tongue of dog, 
 Adder's fork and bHnd-worm's sting, 
 Lizard's leg and howlet's wing. 
 For a charm of powerful trouble, 
 Like a hell-broth boil and bubble. 
 Double, double, toil and trouble; 
 Fire biurn and caldron bubble. 
 Scale of dragon, tooth of wolf, 
 Witches' mummy, maw and gulf 
 Of the ravin'd salt-sea shark; 
 Root of hemlock, digged i' the dark, 
 Liver of blaspheming Jew, 
 Gall of goat and slips of yew 
 Sliver'd in the moon's ecHpse, 
 Nose of Turk and Tartar's lips; 
 Finger of birth-strangled babe, 
 
i84 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 Ditch-deliver'd by a drab, 
 Make the gruel thick and slab. 
 Add thereto a tiger's chaudron, 
 For the ingredients of our caldron. 
 Double, double, toil and trouble, 
 Fire bum and caldron bubble. 
 Cool it with a baboon's blood. 
 Then the charm is firm and good." 
 
 John's voice was high and cracked, and he made 
 the lines sound their awfullest. Where he said, 
 "Double, double, toil and trouble, fire bum and 
 caldron bubble," he stirred with the big spoon, 
 and we flickered the fight from the magic lantern. 
 John had something to throw in for each thing 
 he mentioned, and he did it in a fitting manner 
 for each one. 
 
 He was the one who suggested that we put 
 these fines into the scene. He is reading "Mac- 
 beth" at school now. I am glad he did it, for 
 they fit into "Bianca" just as though they be- 
 longed to the play. 
 
 When Huon leaves Hilda after getting the sup- 
 posed love draught, she teUs about it being a 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 185 
 
 deadly poison and says that when he goes to 
 claim his love, he will find a dead bride awaiting 
 him. The scene is supposed to end there, but 
 John fixed up some more Hnes. 
 
 The last of Hilda's speech goes: "Ha! ha! ha! 
 old Hilda's spells work silently and well!" 
 
 John added: 
 
 "Ha! ha! ha! 
 
 And now that I have done my worst, 
 I'll call my devil demons curst, 
 And till the breaking of the day, 
 We'll gambol in our heUish play. 
 Up to the moon and back we'll ride 
 We'll cross the mighty ocean wide. 
 We'll do all mischief we can do — 
 Ha! ha! ha! Ha! ha! ho-o-o-o-o-o-o! 
 Come Bittlescritch and Bittlescratch! 
 Come Wattloo and Hacklehatch! 
 Come all ye brood of Satan's halls — 
 Ha! ha! Old HHda caUs!" 
 
 Then off stage, Larry, Hal, Herbert, and I made 
 the noises of the demons. At first the sound was 
 
i86 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 very faint — ^just a rumbling. Then it got louder 
 and louder — shrill calls, screeches, hoots, and 
 howls — and at last the curtain fell. 
 
 Never did we make such a hit. The audience 
 applauded and applauded, and we took four cur- 
 tain calls — the entire cast coming out on the 
 last one. It was great — I shall remember it al- 
 ways. 
 
 The third scene is where Huon puts the poison, 
 which he thinks is a love philter, into Bianca^s 
 glass of wine. That is the scene where Herbert 
 comes in as the page. He wasn't really scared as 
 he thought he would be. He did well, too. It 
 wasn't easy to stoop down, holding a wine-glass 
 on a tray, and fasten Euan's shoe. Herbert did 
 it all very well, and he and Hal took a curtain 
 call at the end of the scene. 
 
 The fourth scene was the moonlit balcony. It 
 certainly did look beautiful. We acted our parts 
 fairly well, too, though those pesky love-making 
 scenes always do get my goat. Larry's cousin 
 sang the song about: 
 
 "The moon is up, wake, lady, wake!" 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 187 
 
 He stood down in the carriage house so that his 
 voice would sound far away. Some fellow he 
 knows in high school — I forget his name — ^played 
 his accompaniment on the mandoHn. When John, 
 as Adelbert, came chmbing over the balcony, he 
 had my mandolin hanging from a ribbon around 
 his neck, just as though he had been playing. 
 He didn^t die with it on, for it would have been 
 in the way, and might have gotten squashed, but 
 took it off and laid it aside. 
 
 In the fifth scene I had to sing my song. I 
 don't know how I ever did it! I played the air 
 on my mandolin and talked the song — at least I 
 think I talked it. I can't quite say what I did 
 do. It was the only time during the whole play 
 that I was the least bit scared. 
 
 I died as gracefully as I could. Hal and I had 
 practised that part together times without num- 
 ber, but I think we did it differently from what 
 we ever had done it before. Where Hal says: 
 "Wouldst thou betray me? Never! Yield thou 
 to my love, or I will sheathe my dagger in thy 
 heart, and silence thee forever!" — he forced me 
 to my knees before him and stood over me with 
 the dagger in his hand. 
 
i88 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 Then I straightened up a little and faced him 
 proudly. 
 
 "I will not yield! The world shall know thy 
 guilt, and then sweet death shall be a blessing.'' 
 
 Then he seized me by the wrist, forced me 
 back, and sheathed the dagger in my heart. 
 (What he really did was to run it imder my arm.) 
 To make my death seem more real, I tore open 
 my dress at the neck to show a smear of red 
 paint that had been carefully put there to look 
 like blood. 
 
 As Huon did the stabbing he cried: 
 
 "Then die, and free me from the love and fear 
 that hang Uke clouds above me!" 
 
 I sank back on the floor, gasped, raised myself 
 on one arm, and said: 
 
 "Thy sin will yet — ^be — ^known! {Gasp, gasp) 
 And — may — God — pardon — thee!" Then I looked 
 about the garden scene, gasping meanwhile, and 
 took my last farewell of earth. "Oh earth fare- 
 well! {Gasp, gasp.) My — Adelbert— I come — I 
 come!" Then I gave a convulsive shudder and 
 stiffened out. 
 
 I don't suppose that is the way people really 
 die, though I can't say, never having seen any 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 189 
 
 one do it; but they always die that way in novels, 
 unless they just "go to sleep, and pass into that 
 bourne from which no traveller returns." Having 
 been murdered, I didn't think I would just go 
 to sleep, because sleeping deaths always happen 
 in bed — ^hke little Eva's — ^whereas those who meet 
 their end by violent means always die with a con- 
 vulsive shudder, having first said a thing or two 
 to their murderer. 
 
 It was great fun plajdng the ghost in the last 
 scene. I put flour all over my face, just as thick 
 as I could make it stick. Then I draped myself 
 up in a sheet. I was certainly white enough. 
 
 John, who manages the magic lantern better 
 than any of us, followed me with a spot of white 
 light, keeping it. always on my head. 
 
 When I entered, Hal, as Huon, was lying on a 
 pile of straw. We let him moan and groan in his 
 sleep for a moment while the ghost stood over 
 him. At last he started up, saw me, let out a 
 wild cry of fear, crouched, came to a standing 
 position, and advanced toward me. 
 
 "Ha! Spirit of the dead, what wouldst thou 
 now?" (I came closer to him. He moved back.) 
 
ipo THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 "For long, long nights why hast thou haunted 
 me? " (Again I came closer, extending my hand.) 
 "Cannot my agony, remorse, and tears lead thee 
 to forget? " (I came still closer, and put my hand 
 on his head. He shrieked wildly.) "Ah, touch 
 me not! Away! Away!'^ (He moved off . I fol- 
 lowed.) " See, how the vision follows! It holds 
 me fast! *' (He threw himself at my feet.) " Bi- 
 anca, save me! Save me!" And he fell dead be- 
 fore me, while I stood above him, pointing upward. 
 We let the tableau last a full minute, and then 
 John put his hand over the lens of the magic lan- 
 tern, which shut off the only light, and Larry let 
 the curtain fall. 
 
 We had forty-two people at the night show. 
 That meant two dollars and ten cents. Thirty- 
 one at the afternoon show brought in a dollar 
 fifty-five, so that altogether "Bianca" made us 
 three dollars and sixty-five cents. The Barn- 
 stormers will soon have to start a bank account! 
 
CHAPTER XV 
 
 Tuesday, May 9. 
 
 Luck is with the Barnstormers — real luck with 
 money in its pocket! Mrs. Cawdor MacAnnaly, 
 who is the richest woman in town, has asked us 
 to give a play at her house-party next Friday 
 night to "amuse" the guests. (I don't Uke that 
 word "amuse"!) 
 
 It seems that she heard about us through some 
 one who was at the play Saturday, and the idea 
 struck her that we woidd be a "brand new sensa- 
 tion" for the people she's going to have down 
 from the city. So Monday she called up Mrs. 
 Jameson by 'phone, and told her she would like 
 to see some of us, and after school Hal and I 
 went over to her house. 
 
 I had never been there before; neither had Hal. 
 
 We both felt a Kttle bit scared. You see Mrs. 
 
 MacAnnaly is hardly ever here, and when she 
 
 is she doesn't "mix" a great deal with the people 
 
 who live here all the time. So we felt just a little 
 
 191 
 
192 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 like turning and running after we had rung the 
 bell to the front door and stood waiting for some 
 one to come. 
 
 Finally the door was opened by an oldish man 
 who wore a blue coat with brass buttons. I 
 guess Mrs. MacAnnaly hadn't told him we were 
 coming, for he didn't act as if he was glad to see 
 us, or intended to let us in. He just stood wait- 
 ing in the doorway and acted as though he didn't 
 see us at all. 
 
 Finally I said: "I am Robert Archer and this 
 is Harold Jameson. Mrs. MacAnnaly wished to 
 see us." 
 
 He acted as if he didn't believe it, but he said 
 he'd "see," and he went so far as to ask us into 
 the hall. 
 
 The hall was big and dark, with things that 
 caught the Hght standing out brightly here and 
 there. Some spears and a big brass shield were 
 over the fireplace. Hal whispered to me that 
 they would be great to use in a play. 
 
 We waited about five minutes, and then there 
 was a swishy, rusthng sound, and Mrs. MacAn- 
 naly came down the stairs. We both stood up, 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 193 
 
 which I think was good manners, though I felt 
 too scared to remember what I should do. Mrs. 
 MacAnnaly came toward us, and she smiled so 
 pleasantly that we quite forgot to be afraid of her. 
 
 "This is Robert Archer and Harold Jameson?" 
 she asked. "Now, tell me, which is which?" 
 
 "I'm Robert," I said, "and this is Harold." 
 
 She shook hands with us as solemnly as though 
 we were grown up and as rich as she is. 
 
 "Now suppose," she said, "we all go out in 
 the Hbrary, and I have Jenkins bring us some tea 
 and cakes and things, and you can tell me all 
 about the Barnstormers." 
 
 We said we thought that would be very nice, 
 so Mrs. MacAnnaly led the way to the library, 
 which was a big room hned with books. We sat 
 in a bay window in big, soft, comfy leather chairs 
 that made you feel just as you felt when you 
 dreamed you had j&nally got your wish and were 
 riding one of those big white clouds that float 
 across the sky on hot summer days. 
 
 Mrs. MacAnnaly rang a bell, and Jenkins came, 
 looking Kke he'd lost his last friend — because 
 of us, I guess — and Mrs. MacAnnaly told him 
 
194 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 what to bring, and he looked still more abused 
 and disgusted. It must be awfully uncomfortable 
 to have Jenkins around. I should think Mrs. 
 MacAnnaly would fire him and get another hired 
 girl. 
 
 While Jenkins was getting the tea and cakes 
 and things, Mrs. MacAnnaly asked us how old 
 we were, and what grade we were in at school, 
 and how we liked our teacher, and all those ques- 
 tions kids always get asked. 
 
 Then Jenkins brought the tea and a second 
 tray with little sandwiches and cakes and mar- 
 malade and candy. He put all these things on 
 a funny little table that had a top that tilted up 
 when you weren't using it. Mrs. MacAnnaly asked 
 us how we would have our tea — ^with cream ? — 
 and we both said yes; and with sugar — two 
 lumps? — and we both said yes to that, too. You 
 see, I don't get tea at home, and I don't think 
 Hal does either. It isn't considered good for chil- 
 dren. But we liked it, and had two cups, not to 
 mention three sandwiches, six cakes, and five 
 pieces of candy. Mrs. MacAnnaly seemed to 
 enjoy feeding us very much. 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 195 
 
 We told her about the Barnstormers, and "The 
 Captive of Castile," and "Bianca." She said 
 she was very sorry she didn't get to see "Bianca*' 
 Saturday night, and she thought we were naughty 
 boys not to come around and tell her about it. 
 
 Then she told us about the party she is to 
 have this coming Friday night, and asked us if 
 we thought we could give "Bianca" to help her 
 ' * amuse ' ' her guests. 
 
 We weren't real sure about giving a play away 
 from the Barnville, but Mrs. MacAnnaly said she 
 would fix everything up all right. Off the Hbrary 
 is a music-room with folding doors that when 
 open give a space about the width of our stage. 
 That is where we are to perform. The folding 
 doors will be the curtain, and the scenery is to 
 be brought from the Barnville and Mrs. Mac- 
 Annaly is to have it put up. We can't bring the 
 new green wall-paper room scene, for it wouldn't 
 stand moving, so some carpenters are to make a 
 new room-scene frame for us, and it is to be cov- 
 ered with old chintz curtains which Mrs. Mac- 
 Annaly has put away in the attic. 
 
 The cave will be no trouble to move, so that is 
 
196 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 to be brought over. There are to be real electric 
 footlights and side-lights, just Kke they have in a 
 real theatre. Then the orchestra that is to play 
 for the dance, which comes after our play, is to 
 furnish the music between each scene. 
 
 Hal and I both got home late for supper, but 
 we didn^t mind, each being pretty full of the cakes 
 and tea and sandwiches, and so not very himgry. 
 John and Larry and Herbert joined us at the 
 Bamville after supper, and we had a meeting to 
 talk about giving the play at Mrs. MacAnnaly's. 
 We all thought it was too good a chance to let 
 go, so it was voted that we do it. 
 
 I don't know yet what we are to get for giving 
 the play, but Mrs. MacAnnaly will do the square 
 thing by us, I am sure. 
 
 Thursday, May 11. 
 
 The play is going j5ne. We had a rehearsal at 
 Mrs. MacAnnaly's last night, and she was pleased 
 as could be with it. She said she thought we 
 were " awfully clever " — whatever that is. Jenkins 
 didn't seem so well pleased. He's a grouch of 
 the grouchiest sort. 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 197 
 
 This afternoon Hal and I went up to Mrs. Mac- 
 Annaly's again, this time to see about the stage 
 in the music-room. The platform was all made. 
 It is about a foot high and has a nice sunken 
 place for the footlights. "Red" Hays, the elec- 
 trician, put those in yesterday morning. They 
 are all blue ones, because there is only one scene 
 where we use full light on the stage — that's the 
 third — and then we can have it coming from the 
 side or else put some white bulbs into the row 
 of foots. 
 
 The frame for the room scene is all made and 
 covered. It looks very nice. There are wings to 
 go with it, so that the set matches. Our gray 
 drop and side wings have been put up, too, so 
 that the stage is all ready now. Jenkins and the 
 gardener, whose name is McTavish, are to bring 
 in the branches for the forest scene to-morrow 
 afternoon. 
 
 We are all to come up right after school and 
 get things ready for the show. We are to have 
 our suppers there. I'll bet we have lots of good 
 things to eat. 
 
198 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 Saturday, May 13. 
 
 I feel like I was a real actor — or should I say 
 actress? I guess I'm what Hal calls an "actor- 
 ine." Anyway, whatever it is, I feel just like 
 that. And I know now how the kids in those 
 companies of Shakespeare's time must have felt 
 after they had given a play at court. I'm all 
 "feels" to-day — so many to the square inch I 
 can't keep track of them. 
 
 We gave "Bianca" at Mrs. Cawdor MacAn- 
 naly's yesterday evening, and that is the reason 
 for my present state. I wish I had words to 
 express myself. I wish I could tell about every- 
 thing in nice, large dictionary language. It should 
 be done in very fine writing — ^just like the charac- 
 ters in novels speak when they tell about some- 
 thing big. But I can't do it! I'll just have to 
 write it like I think it. 
 
 After school we all went home and put on 
 our Sunday clothes and packed our costumes in 
 suit-cases, and then met at Hal's and John's, 
 which is nearest Mrs. MacAnnaly's house. We 
 felt sort of scared — ^you know, like your heart was 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 199 
 
 beating in your shoes instead of in its right place. 
 Larry partially lost his grin, which is a sure sign 
 that something inside of him has gone wrong. 
 
 We walked up to the MacAnnaly house as 
 solemn as if we were going to a fxmeral. Nobody 
 had a thing to say. 
 
 Once Larry said Mrs. MacAnnaly must have 
 scads of dough, and Hal said it was vulgar to 
 speculate upon the wealth of our benefactress. 
 Hal knows how to say things just as if they had 
 been written by one of our best novelists. I 
 was sure Larry would get mad and he and Hal 
 would have a fight. But Larry didn't — I guess he 
 didn't know the meaning of the words Hal used. 
 
 Finally we reached the house. It seemed very 
 large and we felt very small. 
 
 Jenkins opened the door. He looked much 
 bigger than ever before and quite terrifying in 
 his blue coat with its brass buttons. He was 
 quite solemn, too. Herbert held on to my hand 
 as though he was afraid he'd run if he didn't hold 
 on to some one. 
 
 Jenkins said that his mistress would see us in a 
 few minutes. Would we step to the music-room? 
 
200 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 We stepped. 
 
 John and Larry and Herbert went from rug to 
 rug as though the rugs were cakes of ice in a 
 river and it was a matter of life and death to 
 get from one to the other. Hal and I, having 
 had tea with Mrs. Cawdor MacAnnaly, were not 
 so timid. John pretended he wasn't, but he was. 
 
 When Jenkins left us in the music-room, which 
 had been turned into the stage, we all felt better. 
 The gray drop and green wings from the Bam- 
 ville were all up, and the place had a sort of home- 
 like look that the big, beautiful rooms we had 
 passed through didn't have. The branches to use 
 in the outdoor scenes were piled out on the ter- 
 race, and the new chintz room scene, and the 
 witch's cave were in the part of the music- 
 room behind the raised platform. 
 
 John and Herbert and Larry were delighted 
 with the electric footlights, which worked from a 
 switch at the side, and we all fell to talking quite 
 as if we weren't in the MacAnnaly house at all, 
 but back in the Bamville. 
 
 We were going it full tilt when Hal looked up 
 and saw Mrs. MacAnnaly in the door. Then I saw 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 201 
 
 her, too. She had on a wonderful-looking dress, 
 all white, with silvery things on it, and diamonds 
 at her throat and in her hair. She looked just 
 like you imagined your fairy godmother would. 
 
 She smiled and came toward us. "And how 
 are "Bobby and Hal?'' she asked. 
 
 We shook hands and said we were all right. 
 
 "And now," said Mrs. MacAnnaly, "you must 
 introduce me to the other Barnstormers.'' 
 
 So I did, but I don't know whether I did it 
 right or not. I just said: "This is John Jameson 
 and this is Larry Donovan and this is Herbert 
 Hilton." 
 
 She made us all feel at home right away, and 
 we were soon talking about how things were to 
 be for the play. A part of the back hall had 
 been screened off for our dressing-room, and a 
 Httle lavatory opened off of this. A table was to 
 be set in the music-room, and that was where we 
 were to eat our supper. 
 
 "And after the play," she added, as she turned 
 to go, "I want all my young actors to come out 
 and meet the ladies and gentlemen who have seen 
 them perform." 
 
202 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 That wasn't very pleasant to look forward to. 
 We talked about it after she had gone, but we 
 didn't see any way out of it. 
 
 Before supper was brought in we got the stage 
 all ready for the first scene. And, in order that 
 it wouldn't take so long to change for the second 
 scene, we put up the witch's cave in its corner, 
 and covered it with green branches. We had the 
 caldron and the fire all ready, so that when it 
 came time for the second scene there was very 
 little to do to get the stage ready. 
 
 Supper was great. We decided before it came 
 in that we mustn't eat too much, because if we 
 did we wouldn't be able to act to the best 
 of our ability. Only Larry said that it didn't 
 matter about him and he would eat all he 
 wanted. 
 
 Jenkins didn't serve it, for which we were all 
 very glad. A girl who works in the kitchen 
 brought the things in to us. We had soup and 
 fish and chicken and vegetables, and salad and 
 ice-cream and candy. We found it very hard not 
 to fill up just as full as we wanted to; but we 
 didn't — except Larry, and he ate so much that he 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 203 
 
 might just as well have gone home for all the 
 good he did us afterward. 
 
 When supper was over we dressed and got our- 
 selves ready for the show. I wished all the time 
 that everything we had was ten times as good as 
 it was, and that we could act better than we 
 could — and that everything could be improved 
 upon. When you are to act before rich folks it 
 makes you feel that everything you have is worse 
 than it is. But since Mrs. MacAnnaly had told 
 Hal and me that she wanted everything just as 
 it would be in the Barnville, we let it go at that, 
 and let the rich folks from the city take things 
 in true Barnville style. We wouldn't have been 
 Barnstormers if we had tried to change our way 
 of doing things. 
 
 Just a little before eight o'clock the orchestra 
 came into the music-room and began to tune up. 
 Wow! My heart began to go pitty-pat then. 
 There were six of them — ^real musicians that had 
 been brought down from the city to furnish music 
 for the dance. 
 
 We were all ready, so we came on the stage and 
 sat around, waiting till it was time for the show 
 
204 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 to begin. The director of the orchestra came in 
 and asked if there were any "cues" for music, 
 and we fixed it up that he was to play a love- 
 song while John said the words of AdelherVs song 
 in the fourth scene. You see we had forgotten 
 all about that song, and Larry's cousin was no- 
 where to be had, ha\dng gone off on a trip with 
 the high-school baseball team. Then in the last 
 scene the director said he would play something 
 spooky while the ghost performed. He was very 
 nice about everything, and didn't laugh at all, 
 though I think he was laughing inside. Well, we 
 showed him anyway! Those rich folks from the 
 dty didn't care a straw about his old orchestra, 
 but they were just crazy about us. 
 
 At eight o'clock Mrs. MacAnnaly came in to 
 see if everything was ready. We had the lights 
 all on and the splotch of moonlight from the 
 magic lantern turned on the rustic seat. Mrs. 
 MacAnnaly said it looked "lovely," and she was 
 just too pleased for anything. 
 
 "Now you must be good boys and do your 
 best!" she said as we turned to go, and we all 
 felt like we would do anything for a person as 
 beautiful as she was. 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 205 
 
 The orchestra played a long and very fancy 
 " overture/' and then a short, solemn sort of piece. 
 Just as this finished, John and Larry pulled back 
 the folding doors. 
 
 The lights in the big library had been turned 
 low, so we couldn't see the people very clearly, 
 but I could tell that there was quite a crowd 
 and that the men had on dress suits and the 
 ladies were all low-necked and sparkly like Mrs. 
 MacAnnaly. 
 
 Hal was seated on the rustic seat, his head 
 bent forward, and the villainous look on his 
 face brought out clearly by the blue moonhght. 
 
 A Uttle whispering sound went through the 
 crowd and then they clapped their hands. The 
 scene must have looked very nice, indeed. 
 
 Then Hal spoke. Never had he said his lines 
 so well. I was so interested I almost forgot when 
 it came time for me to go on with John. The 
 whole scene went well. We seemed to get into 
 it as we never had before. 
 
 At the end the people clapped and clapped, and 
 we all had to take curtain calls. 
 
 Of course the second scene — the witch scene — 
 
2o6 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 went well. It just couldn't help it. John played 
 old Hilda better than he did at our other two per- 
 formances, and in the lines from Shakespeare he 
 simply did himself proud. 
 
 Nothing that really mattered went wrong in 
 the whole play. It was over, it seemed to me, 
 almost before I could reaUze that it had even 
 started. 
 
 At the end we had to bow and bow, and sev- 
 eral of the ladies threw their bouquets to us, and 
 then everybody clapped some more. 
 
 Mrs. MacAnnaly came rushing back to see us. 
 "You dear boys!" she cried. "I'm proud of you! 
 The play amused us as nothing else could have! 
 Now get into your clothes and come out into the 
 library. The people are just dying to meet you." 
 
 We washed the paint off of our faces and 
 dressed, but it was ever so hard to get up cour- 
 age to go out and meet all those people. 
 
 Hal and I finally led the way. Mrs. Mac- 
 Annaly came toward us as we entered the room. 
 About thirty people were standing about talking. 
 They stopped and all looked in our direction. I 
 could have gone through the floor! 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 207 
 
 "These boys/* said Mrs. MacAimaly, "are 
 the Barnstormers — Bobby Archer, Hal Jameson, 
 John Jameson, Herbert Hilton, and Larry Dono- 
 
 van." 
 
 Then a young fellow, with taffy-colored hair and 
 a round eye-glass on a black ribbon and no chin, 
 jumped up on a chair and said: "I say now, three 
 cheers for the Barnstormers!" 
 
 That made us feel a Httle more at home. Larry 
 found his grin, and John forgot his dignity, and 
 we all felt more comfortable. 
 
 Then a nice, tall, gray-haired gentleman got me 
 off in one corner and began to ask me about the 
 Barnstormers. 
 
 He wanted to know first where we got the name, 
 and when I told him from Joseph Jefferson's auto- 
 biography, he certainly looked surprised. 
 
 "And, er, the idea-r?" he asked. 
 
 "Oh, that was just a hunch," I said. 
 
 "A what?" he asked. 
 
 "Just a hunch — a thing that pops into your 
 head when you're not looking for it. But you 
 know," I went on, "we have historical precedent 
 for a children's company of players. There were 
 
2o8 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 the boys who acted women's parts in Shakespeare's 
 time, and then PauFs Boys, and the Children of 
 the Chapel Royal, and Beeston's Boys " 
 
 "Good Lord!'* said the gray-haired gentleman 
 to Mrs. MacAnnaly, who came up just then, 
 "Adelaide, where did you ever find such children? 
 Why, this youngster knows the whole history of 
 the stage!*' 
 
 Mrs. MacAnnaly laughed and put her arm 
 around me, and said we were just natural boys 
 who had followed our own "bent" — ^whatever 
 that is — and learned a thing or two as we went 
 along. 
 
 We were sent home in the automobile — a great 
 big one that held us all without crowding. And 
 when the driver left us at the Jamesons' he 
 gave each one of us an envelope with our name 
 on it, and me another that said: "For the Barn- 
 stormers." 
 
 We could hardly wait till we got up to Hal's 
 and John's room to see what was inside. 
 
 And what do you suppose? — a dollar bill for 
 each one of us and five for the Barnstormers' 
 Dramatic Club! We are rich! rich! 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 209 
 
 Sunday, May 14. 
 
 We have become really famous! We can't be- 
 lieve it, but we have. We are in the Sunday- 
 paper, which tells all about the "unique enter- 
 tainment" Mrs. Cawdor MacAnnaly furnished 
 her house-party guests on Friday evening. I 
 nearly fell over when I saw the paper this morn- 
 ing. Here's the chpping: 
 
 UNIQUE ENTERTAINMENT 
 
 Juvenile Players Give Tragedy at Mrs. 
 Cawdor MacAnnaly's House-Party 
 
 Last Friday evening the week-end house-party 
 guests at Mrs. Cawdor MacAnnaly's estate, 
 Cawdor House, Jordan, enjoyed one of the most 
 unique entertainments furnished by a hostess 
 this season. This was nothing less than a 
 " Comic Tragedy " presented by a cast of Jordan 
 boys who have organized a dramatic club and 
 call themselves the Barnstormers. These youth- 
 ful actors are all under fourteen, but the staging, 
 acting and producing of their plays is done en- 
 tirely by themselves. The usual place of per- 
 formance is the " Bamville," a bam converted 
 by the bo^s themselves into a miniature theater; 
 but for Friday's performance, a stage was built 
 into the music room of Cawdor House. The 
 play was "Bianca," an operatic tragedy taken 
 from Louisa Alcott's well-known book of "Comic 
 Tragedies." The boys who took part in the 
 play were John and Harold Jameson, Robert 
 Archer, Herbert Hilton, and Lawrence Donovan. 
 
 The play was followed by a dance. The guests 
 at the house-party included the Misses Ida and 
 
 I am not quite sure that this is real. I'm afraid 
 I shall get the swell head and explode ! Whoever 
 thought we should get into a real newspaper! 
 
CHAPTER XVI 
 
 Sunday, May 21. 
 
 Hal and I have decided to write a play! We 
 don't know yet what it will be about, but we 
 think we will take "King Arthur's Round Table" 
 or "Robin Hood and His Merry Men" for a 
 subject. Either will be easier than making up a 
 story out of our own heads. The chief trouble is 
 that for either one we would need more people 
 than we have. There were so many knights of 
 King Arthur's court, not to mention ladies, that 
 we would have to make all the kids in town into 
 Barnstormers to take the parts. And the same 
 thing is true of Robin Hood's men. There are 
 too many of them. 
 
 It would spoil the Barnstormers if we took in a 
 mess of new members. Of course Hal and John 
 and Larry and I would want to nm things, which 
 we would have a perfect right to do, having started 
 the Barnstormers; and of course the new mem- 
 
 2ZO 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 211 
 
 bers would want to run things, too, and there 
 would be fights. 
 
 It would be just like it was the summer we had 
 a fort in the Jamesons' back yard and called it 
 "New France." We had a governor and colo- 
 nists, and some of us played we were Indians who 
 wanted to drive the palefaces back to the land 
 of the rising sun. Sometimes one boy would be a 
 whole tribe of Indians and scalp colonists when 
 they went to work in their gardens at the edge 
 of the deep woods. We had a house made out 
 of old matting tacked to a frame of poles which 
 was the shelter for all of us inside the fort. Then 
 in the far comer of the yard we had a wigwam 
 where the tribe of Indians Uved. It was all great 
 sport. Hal, and John, and Larry, and myself, and 
 Sarah and EUzabeth Jameson started it. We 
 didn't have girls right at first, but we decided we 
 would have to have some if we had a regular col- 
 ony. So we had a ship-load come over and we 
 bought 'em, just like they did that time at James- 
 town. Well, after "New France " was a sure thing 
 and we had put a brick furnace inside the matting 
 house (it smoked, but that didn't matter, for we 
 
212 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 felt we must have modern conveniences) — after 
 all this had been done, Cribby McCormack, and 
 Jimmy Ames, and some girls came around and 
 wanted to be new colonists. We pretended they 
 came over in a ship from France, and we wel- 
 comed them by firing a salute of one firecracker, 
 and generally did the thing up right. But they 
 busted up the whole colony. That very day they 
 had a revolution, like those they have in South 
 America, and tried to put Cribby in as governor. 
 There was a sham fight, which got to be a real 
 one, and Larry knocked in one of Cribby's teeth, 
 and everybody went home mad, and everybody's 
 fathers and mothers said they didn't know what 
 children were coming to, because there weren't 
 any such goings-on when they were kids. 
 
 Well, to return to the play. We don't know 
 quite how to go about writing a play, but we 
 think that if we try hard enough maybe we can 
 write one. We want it to be full of fine language 
 and thriUing deeds, and have the hero and the 
 heroine brought together in the end to five happy 
 ever after. We want to make it about as long as 
 "The Captive of Castile." I expect Hal will have 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 213 
 
 to do most of the writing, since he can use bigger 
 words than I can. He has read more, too, which 
 helps your imagination. 
 
 We have been reading some plays this week to 
 see how they are put together. We read "Mac- 
 beth/' because of the witches, and liked it very 
 much. Then we got another play at the Ubrary, 
 called "Hedda Gabler,'' which was by a man 
 named Ibsen. We thought it was stupid, and 
 couldn't understand it at all, but the Kbrarian, 
 who is a young lady with puffs, said we ought to 
 like the play because Ibsen was quite fashionable 
 now. Anyway, we didn't, which I suppose wasn't 
 Ibsen's fault, but ours. 
 
 "Macbeth" is all divided up into scenes — too 
 many for us. We will have to write our play 
 more like the "Comic Tragedies," which have 
 about eight scenes for a whole play. 
 
 We want a witch in it, because witches' caves 
 make such a hit with the audience. And we want 
 a priest, because when we had Hernando^s cell in 
 "The Captive of Castile" that was the best part 
 of the whole play. 
 
 I don't see how we can get a witch's cave and 
 
214 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 a priest's cell into the story of either King 
 Arthur or Robin Hood; but Hal says there is 
 always a way. 
 
 As soon as we decide on our story we are go- 
 ing to begin writing the play. As I said, we don't 
 know how plays are written, but we want to write 
 one, so we are going to make a try at it. We were 
 talking about play writing yesterday, and we de- 
 cided that when we wrote ours we would take 
 turn about as different characters and act out 
 the play, making up the speeches as we went 
 along. Then afterward we could write them off 
 as we remembered them. That is, we would have 
 a pretend show first and write that up into a real 
 one afterward. 
 
 That may not be the best way to write a play, 
 but we are going to try it out and see how it works. 
 
 Thursday, May 25. 
 
 Hal and I have given up both King Arthur 
 and Robin Hood and made up a plot of our 
 own for our play. The hero is something Hke 
 Robin Hood, because he is an outlaw and a very 
 brave man. The play is all to happen in a great 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 215 
 
 forest, like Sherwood Forest, where Robin Hood 
 lived. The heroine is the daughter of an English 
 lord, who is the outlaw's enemy and is planning 
 to capture him and have him hung. We thought 
 first about having her a gypsy girl, but we de- 
 cided a lord's daughter gave more tone to the 
 play, and since we could have her one just as 
 easy as the other, why, it's a lord's daughter she 
 is to be. We haven't named her yet, but we 
 think Rosalind sounds quite fitting. "The Lady 
 Rosalind" has a very romantic sound to it and 
 will make a nice fine in the play every time it has 
 to be said. Her father is to be called Lord Graf- 
 ton de Vere. The outlaw isn't named yet. We 
 have talked of several names for him, but we 
 haven't found one yet. "John of the Forest" 
 soimds too plain, and wouldn't do, since the John 
 in our company is to play the part. We have 
 thought about "The Red Ranger," and if we take 
 that for his name we will have him dress all in 
 red. Then his first name could be Rupert — which 
 is a nice name and goes well with Rosalind, The 
 trouble with "Rupert the Red Ranger," is that 
 it sounds like the title to a penny dreadful. " Red 
 
2i6 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 Roland" might do, or "Red Rudolph" — except 
 that the last one sounds too Dutch. I think, 
 though, that we want a "Red" before it and want 
 it to begin with R. Calling the hero "Red" gives 
 us such a good chance to dress him up in a new 
 style. 
 
 The plot is not very well worked out yet, but 
 we are certain about a few things. Lady Rosa- 
 lindas father, Lord Crafton de Vere, is to be the 
 outlaw's worst enemy and always seeking to have 
 him hung. This is because the outlaw knows the 
 deep secret of Lord Grafton's life. There is an 
 old priest who knows still more about this secret; 
 he is the outlaw's friend. Then Jglma, a druid 
 witch and priestess, — some name! — is leagued with 
 Lord Crafton, who gives her gold for poisons and 
 charms. 
 
 Lord Crafton tries to make Lady Rosalind wed 
 an old man who has a great deal of money, but 
 she refuses, and escapes to the forest, to her out- 
 law lover, disguised as a boy. Lord Crafton comes 
 after her, and in the fight is slain. 
 
 Then Rosalind is torn 'twixt love and duty. 
 How can she wed her father's slayer? In her dis- 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 217 
 
 tress she seeks the cell of Friar Joseph, an old 
 priest, and to him lays bare her heart. But, as I 
 said before, the priest knows the secret of the 
 dead Lord Crafton^s Hfe. "Know, daughter, ^^ he 
 says, "Lord Crafton was not thy father. True, 
 thou art a de Vere, but he whom thou hast called 
 father was in reaHty a cousin of your father. 
 While yet you were a babe in arms, Lord Crafton 
 waged war upon your father, Gerald de Vere, 
 burned his castle to the ground, and put all to 
 the sword but you, a babe of seven months." 
 
 So Rosalind can marry her outlaw lover, after 
 all, and everything ends happily. 
 
 I think that will make a very thrilUng play, 
 and I am glad I can wear boy's clothes for once, 
 even though I am supposed to be a girl dressed 
 up. 
 
 Sunday, May 28. 
 
 The play is coming along. We have done two 
 scenes and hope to write two more this week. 
 We are very well pleased with the two scenes 
 already finished, for they are most romantic and 
 soimd very fine. 
 
2i8 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 We have decided to call the hero "Rupert the 
 Red Ranger/' after all, and make that the name 
 of the play, too. It do^s sound a bit Uke the ti- 
 tle of a penny dreadful, but that doesn't matter. 
 It will look very good on the bills. 
 
 In the first scene Rosalind is waiting for Rupert 
 the Red Ranger, They have planned a meeting in 
 the garden, for they dare not meet other than in 
 secret because of the cruel wickedness of Lord 
 Crafton de Vere, Rosalind's father. Rosalind is 
 seated in the garden wishing that Rupert would 
 come, when a peddler enters and offers her his 
 wares. She tells him she does not care for the 
 things he has; that she fain would be in the 
 greenwood where his laces and jewels would be of 
 little use. Then the peddler says how he thinks 
 she must be in love, and she says yes, she is; 
 and he wants to know if the man is worthy of so 
 fair a flower, and she tells him that her lover is 
 the finest man that ever Hved. She ends up by 
 saying that she wishes he were there before her 
 now. And then Rupert, who was the peddler all 
 the time, throws off his disguise and stands before 
 her. 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 219 
 
 Then they have a mushy love-scene which we 
 wrote to sound just Hke those in the *' Comic 
 Tragedies." We would have Uked to leave that 
 part out, but you just can't have a play without 
 a lot of that sort of slush in it. Your audience 
 won't stand for it being left out. 
 
 Rosalind and Rupert are interrupted by Lord 
 Crafton de Vere, The old man has a regular je- 
 whimminy-fit when he finds Rupert there in his 
 garden making love to his daughter. He draws 
 his sword and is going to slay Rupert on the spot, 
 but he does not reckon on his man. In the 
 fight that follows, Rupert disarms Lord Crafton 
 and could have killed him very easily, only he is 
 too noble to slay a defenceless man. So he just 
 tells the old boy to keep his mouth shut and 
 not dare call for help or he'll run him through. 
 Then he bids Rosalind farewell and goes. 
 
 Lord Crafton is mad as a wet hen. He drags 
 Rosalind off and swears that he will see her mar- 
 ried to old Lord Grogermere, of Grogermere Hall, 
 the very next day. 
 
 The second scene is quite as thrilling as a wild- 
 west film at a moving-picture show. Rosalind 
 
220 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 proves herself to be the bravest of the brave. 
 Hal and I are very proud of her. 
 
 The scene is Rosalind's chamber, which has a 
 balcony at the back like Bianca^s chamber had. 
 The time is the day following Scene One. 
 
 Rosalind has sent word to Rupert that her 
 father is forcing her to wed Lord Grogermere and 
 that he must save her at once. She fears he has 
 not gotten the message, for it is almost time for 
 the wedding, and still there has come no word 
 from Rupert. But all at once an arrow comes 
 flying into the room. Fastened to it is a silken 
 cord and a note. Rupert has shot the arrow! 
 The note tells her to draw in the cord until she 
 comes to a rope which is fastened to it; then to 
 draw in the rope until she secures a package which 
 contains a disguise for her and the end of a rope 
 ladder which she is to fasten to the balcony and 
 use as a means of escape. 
 
 Rosalind does as she is told. First comes the 
 rope, which she draws in until she comes to the 
 package. She stops to open that, and finds that 
 the disguise is a suit of red just like that Red Ru- 
 pert himself wears. She is to escape disguised as 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 221 
 
 a boy! Then she pulls up the rope ladder and 
 fastens it to the balcony. And it is none too soon, 
 for a knock comes at the door. 
 
 Lord Crafton de Vere and Lord Grogermere enter. 
 They have come to take Rosalind to the church 
 where she is to marry Lord Grogermere. Rosalind 
 tells them she is not yet ready — they must give 
 her time to dress. So she goes into her bedroom. 
 Lord Crafton de Vere and Lord Grogermere have a 
 scrap about how much Lord Grogermere is to pay 
 for Rosalind. Crafton finally makes Grogermere 
 agree to three thousand ducats. 
 
 Then Rosalind calls to her father and tells him 
 to go get her jewels from the tower where they are 
 kept. As soon as he is gone she slips out, unseen 
 by Grogermere, and before he knows what has hap- 
 pened has tied him to his chair. Then she escapes 
 by the rope ladder and joins Rupert. Meanwhile 
 Lord Grogermere is calling for help, and Lord Craf- 
 ton hears him and returns. When he discovers 
 Rosalindas flight, Crafton is pretty much upset. 
 But he and Grogermere vow to capture her and 
 wreak a deep revenge on Rupert the Red Ranger. 
 
 We have changed the plot quite a Httle from 
 
222 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 the way we doped it out at first. The next scene 
 is to be the cell of Friar Joseph, a priest. We are 
 going to have the wedding take place there. Hal 
 and I think that will be quite a stunt — a wedding 
 as part of the play. I've been to one wedding, my 
 cousin Elsie's, and Hal has been to two; so we 
 think we can remember enough about how those 
 were done to fix up a wedding scene in the play. 
 
 School will be out for the summer vacation this 
 week! Friday! We are getting ready now for 
 our commencement, which comes Friday night. 
 We have been rehearsing our parts for a month. 
 Neither Hal, nor Larry, nor myself have any- 
 thing to do except sing in the chorus. 
 
 Brander Edgecomb is the only one who has to 
 speak. He is a thing you call a "valedictorian,'' 
 which is quite as bad as it sounds. 
 
 He has written his own speech, with teacher's 
 help. It's about "What the Future Holds." 
 We have kidded him about it, but he doesn't care. 
 He's awful smart. He's going to be a lawyer, Hke 
 his father, and keep people who should go to the 
 penitentiary from having to do it. 
 
 Besides Brander's speech, Mary Wallace is to 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 223 
 
 play a violin solo, and Ella Andrews is to play a 
 piece on the piano, and we are all going to sing 
 "Sweet and Low," and "The Stars and Stripes 
 Forever." 
 
 To-night we have what you call the "Bacca- 
 laureate." (I know that's spelled right, because 
 I've spelled it five times and looked it up in the 
 dictionary.) Larry calls it the "Tobacco-laure- 
 ate." It's a sermon. I don't like sermons. 
 But we have to go. The Methodist preacher, who 
 has a long neck and a big Adam's apple, is going 
 to do the preaching. I know I'll have to watch 
 his Adam's apple all the time. It jumps up and 
 down in the funniest way. Makes me think of a 
 tin monkey I had once that climbed a string! 
 
 After the sermon we all have to sing a hynm, 
 after which we get to go home. The "Baccalau- 
 reate" is to be in Masonic Hall. All who are 
 being graduated are to sit up in front on the plat- 
 form. 
 
 And that makes me think! I can't see Rever- 
 end Jimson's Adam's apple, either, because his 
 back will be toward us all the time! 
 
CHAPTER XVII 
 
 Sunday, June 4. 
 
 I am now graduated from the eighth grade. 
 Next fall I will start in high school. I can hardly 
 beUeve it is all true, and I feel very old and 
 grown up. 
 
 Friday night we had our commencement. It 
 was what the newspaper calls a "great occasion. *' 
 For myself, I would just as soon have had the 
 whole thing left out, and been passed on to high 
 school without all the fuss and feathers. But the 
 girls and our fathers and mothers would never 
 have been satisfied without commencement ex- 
 ercises. Some of those who graduated from the 
 eighth grade with me will not go into high school 
 next year, but to work, and so this is the only 
 commencement they will ever have. That seems 
 queer! I am just half through going to school, 
 for I have four years of high school and four years 
 
 of college ahead of me, while John Stearns and 
 
 224 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 225 
 
 Betty Proctor and several others are through 
 going to school now. 
 
 Commencement was in the Masonic Hall. It 
 started at seven-thirty and lasted two hours. 
 First, we all met in a Httle room that opens off 
 the back corridor of the assembly hall and waited 
 there until the time came to march in. We had 
 practised getting up to the stage several times 
 that afternoon; so we weren't trying it for the 
 first time. At seven-thirty-five, by my new watch, 
 which father gave me for a graduating present, 
 the high-school orchestra began to play. Teacher 
 Uned us up ready, and we counted ^^left, right" 
 several times and were off. 
 
 Ella Aherns and I were the first ones, because 
 our names begin with A. I wished then that my 
 name was Zaring! Ella was all fluffy ruffles and 
 pink hair ribbons. I had on my new serge suit. 
 (It should have been long pants, because I am 
 quite taU enough for them, but it isn't. It is 
 just a knicker suit like those I have always worn.) 
 
 Ella and I went quite slowly, keeping perfect 
 step, and doing our best to keep time with the 
 music, which wasn't very smooth, but went fast 
 
226 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 one minute, and slow the next. It wasn't easy to 
 lead the procession up that aisle with everybody 
 looking at us as if we were a bride and groom 
 marching up a church aisle. I know now just how 
 it feels to get married. You have an all-gone 
 feeling in the pit of your stomach, and you hope 
 your legs will keep on moving, but you doubt it, 
 because they feel like they might get cramps be- 
 fore they carried you the rest of the way up the 
 long, long aisle. 
 
 But Ella and I did get up to that platform at 
 last. When we came to it we turned, one to the 
 left and one to the right, going up the steps at 
 either side. We met then and stood up before 
 the two middle seats of the front row. After 
 every one else had marched up we all sat down. 
 
 Then the Reverend Jimson prayed for our 
 "young souls,'' and we had some more music. 
 After that Brander Edgecomb gave his valedic- 
 tory about "What the Future Holds." He was 
 terribly scared, and his voice sounded as small as 
 "the still, small voice" Reverend Jimson talked 
 about in the Baccalaureate sermon. But it got 
 a little louder, and Brander did pretty well be- 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 227 
 
 fore he came to the grand finish. The end was 
 very flowery, and sounded just Hke the speeches 
 his father gives on Decoration Day and Fourth 
 of July. He used very fine language, most of 
 which none of us understood. I don't think he 
 understood it himself. 
 
 We had some other stunts, and then the super- 
 intendent of the city schools, Mr. Hanson, gave 
 a talk, and handed out our diplomas, which were 
 tied with blue and white ribbon. After that 
 everybody shook hands with everybody else and 
 everybody else's fathers and mothers and broth- 
 ers and sisters and cousins, and then we all went 
 home. 
 
 I was glad when it was over. 
 
 That pesky commencement made it impossible 
 for Hal and me to do anything to "Rupert the Red 
 Ranger," but now we will have all sorts of time, 
 and can be real dramatists. 
 
 We have fitted up a study in the Bamville, 
 where we are going to do our writing. We have 
 a dictionary, pens, ink, and paper, and a desk 
 made out of a packing-box. 
 
 To-morrow we begin work. 
 
228 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 Friday, June 9. 
 
 "Rupert the Red Ranger" is really becoming 
 a play. It is very thrilling, and quite poetic. 
 
 I am writing this in the Barnville at our dra- 
 matic desk. The other day I brought down the 
 old ledger in which I have been keeping this record 
 of the Barnstormers. I have a little niche under 
 the eaves where I hide it. I have been keeping 
 the book under the window-seat in my room, but 
 I was always afraid some one would find it there. 
 Here it is safe. No one, not even Hal, knows I 
 have been keeping a record of the Barnstormers. 
 It would be most embarrassing to have any one 
 read it. I am sorry now that I didn't have a 
 better book when I started the record. This old 
 ledger is very heavy and cumbersome, and then 
 I'm always having to cut out pages that have 
 been used, and scratch out lines that spoil pages 
 which are perfectly good otherwise. 
 
 Hal left just before I began to write. We have 
 been working on "Rupert" all afternoon, and 
 have just finished the fourth scene. It's dread- 
 fully hot up here, and we had to shed most of our 
 clothes in order to stand the heat. But we can't 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 229 
 
 sit out under the apple-tree in the garden, be- 
 cause the ants and mosquitoes bite us, and there's 
 a partly tame snake that is apt to spoil the most 
 thriUing part of our writing by suddenly crawling 
 over our bare legs. This is our study, and here 
 we will write until we melt. 
 
 "Rupert'' isn't like we planned it at all. We 
 discovered a more thrilling way to finish it than 
 that we had at first. And Jglma, the witch, has 
 much more to do than before. The fifth and 
 seventh scenes are to be in her cave and the 
 third and sixth in Friar JosepKs cell. That 
 makes two cave scenes and two cell scenes! The 
 play is sure to be a great success. And we have 
 changed the name of Rosalind and her father to 
 Vere de VerCj because, it's a much finer-sound- 
 ing name than just de Vere. 
 
 In the third scene Rupert and Rosalind come 
 to Friar Joseph to be married. The old Friar is 
 quite surprised when Rupert brings Rosalind in 
 and he sees what he thinks is a boy. He says: 
 "What? — methought thou saidst a bride — and 
 here I see only a pretty boy — such a page, 
 truly, as well might serve a queen." 
 
230 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 Then Rosalind speaks up. "Oh, father, forgive 
 me," she says. "But 't is I who am the bride. 
 To escape my cruel father I fled thus disguised. 
 Here soon I hope to put on my woman's garments 
 and as my dear Ruperfs wife make a home in 
 these forest glades. But for the present you must 
 take me as I am." 
 
 The Friar tells Rosalind he is proud of her 
 courage and bravery and that he will be happy 
 to perform the ceremony that will make her Ru- 
 perfs wife. So she and Rupert are married and 
 leave to seek out their forest home. 
 
 The fourth scene is in the forest. Rupert and 
 Rosalind are on their way to join Ruperfs fol- 
 lowers. Rosalind is very tired, for they have come 
 a long way since she fled from her father's castle. 
 So she decides to he down and rest while Rupert 
 goes to Ught the signal-fire that will tell his men 
 they are coming. He leaves her, and she goes to 
 sleep. Lord Crafton and Lord Grogermere come in. 
 They cannot see Rosalind, for she is concealed by 
 some bushes. They have become separated from 
 their guard and are wandering about in the forest 
 trying to find a way out. Old' Grogermere is so 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 231 
 
 badly scared that he hasn't any sense left. He 
 is afraid some of Ruperfs men will capture him 
 and make him their prisoner. He and Crafton 
 talk about what is the best way for them to es- 
 cape from the forest, and finally make up their 
 minds to go to old Jglma and get her aid. So 
 they start, but before they have gone far they 
 stumble over the sleeping Rosalind. Grogermere 
 thinks he's lost for sure because he doesn't rec- 
 ognize Rosalind, But Crafton knows his daugh- 
 ter and he binds her fast before she can awake. 
 
 When Rosalind comes to her senses and finds 
 that she is a captive, and that her father and 
 Grogermere are the captors, she is quite upset. 
 She tells them that Rupert will have revenge upon 
 them. Then the crafty Crafton makes up a wicked 
 lie to suit the occasion, and tells Rosalind that he 
 has slain Rupert and that the revenge of which 
 she speaks will never be taken. Rosalind is 
 broken-hearted. Crafton and Grogermere drag her 
 off toward Jglma's cave. 
 
 Then Rupert^s voice is heard singing a love- 
 song. He enters, looking for Rosalind, He finds 
 her gone, and the signs of a struggle. "Gone! 
 
232 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 Gone!'' he cries. "Do my eyes deceive me? 
 Nay! There has been a struggle. 'T is her father 
 and old Grogermere have done this deed.'' (He 
 blows three times on his pipe.) "Now come, my 
 men! We will win the lady back and punish her 
 rash captors! RosaUnd! Rosalind!" 
 
 Wednesday, June 14. 
 
 "Rupert the Red- Ranger" is now a play. We 
 have finished it. But Hal and I didn't do it all. 
 John wrote the witch scenes for himself, because 
 he thought he could do them better than we and 
 because he became interested in the play and 
 wanted to have a hand in it. 
 
 The play is quite as long as any of those we 
 have given, and sounds very much like them, too. 
 We think it's better in some ways, though. It is 
 more thriUing, and thrills are what you want in 
 plays nowadays. Then the witch's cave scenes 
 are written in poetry, which gives a higher tone 
 to the whole play and is Kke Shakespeare. 
 
 The fifth scene is the first of the two cave 
 scenes. It is quite a thriller, but not equal to 
 the seventh, where Jglma^s power is broken. 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 233 
 
 Hal and I planned these scenes and John did 
 most of the writing. 
 
 When the curtain rises on the fifth scene, Jglma 
 is bending over her caldron mixing up a spell. 
 She puts all sorts of things into the "pot of boil- 
 ing blood," including "a wicked Ue, nipped in the 
 bud," "the wriggling wiggles of a typhoid germ," 
 and a "hangman's smile." She cools the whole 
 mess with poison rank, and has just finished this 
 when the fire's blaze tells her that something evil 
 comes that way, but worse — for her — that a per- 
 son who is innocent and brave and true is also 
 coming to her cave. This terrifies the old witch 
 and she cries out: 
 
 "Haste! Haste ye devils! Come and aid me 
 quick. 
 For goodness breaks my power and makes me 
 sick!" 
 
 Then some one knocks and asks to be let into 
 the cave. It is Crafton with Lord Grogermere and 
 Rosalind, Jglma knows Lord Crafton of old, so 
 she lets him in. Rosalind has pulled herself to- 
 
234 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 gether, for now she knows Rupert is not dead, 
 having heard his song in the distance as her father 
 dragged her off. 
 
 Crafton tells Jglma he wishes her to work a 
 charm on Rosalind that will make her forget Ru- 
 pert and love Grogermere. Rosalind defies them 
 to do their worst and says she will never love 
 any one but Rupert. Jglma is a bit upset herself, 
 as you may see from her next speech: 
 
 "Ha! — ^Rupert! I do fear that man! 
 'T was long ago foretold that when my power 
 Broke, and I faced my last stem reckoning hour, 
 And all my magic from me far had fled, 
 Vengeance would come upon me clad in red!" 
 
 But, in spite of her fears, Jglma decides to do 
 her worst. She goes to the caldron and dips her 
 fingers into it, scattering the drops of its vile 
 liquid in a circle about Rosalind. She mutters 
 some charm as she does this. The spell works, 
 for Rosalind is bound fast. Jglma tells her she 
 shall never move from that charmed circle till 
 she leaves it as Grogermere^ s bride. Rosalind says 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 235 
 
 she will never leave it then until death releases 
 her. Then Jglma tries a new plan and puts Ro- 
 sdind to sleep. As our heroine falls unconscious, 
 the vile witch cries out: 
 
 "Ha! ha! Morpheus' bride thou art, 
 And slumbering, mine to use will be thy heart!" 
 
 In the sixth scene Rupert goes to Friar Joseph 
 to learn how he may rescue Rosalind from Jglma^s 
 power. It is very lucky he goes to Friar Joseph^ 
 for the old priest knows the very trick that will 
 put Jglma out of business. 
 
 He has heard from the old hermit who lived in 
 his cell before he came to it that Jglma^s power 
 is in the great oak-tree before her cave, and that 
 as long as it Hves she will live, but that when it 
 dies she will die and her power will cease to be. 
 
 That is all the cue Rupert needs. Off he hastens 
 to gather his men and attack the ancient oak. 
 
 Meanwhile, poor Rosalind still sleeps, and the 
 wicked Jglma works her vile magic to turn the 
 trusting maiden's love to the ancient Grogermere, 
 She has completed her spell, and nothing now 
 
236 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 remains but for Lord Grogermere to wake Rosa- 
 lind and make her his. The charm has been so 
 worked that whoever she first looks on upon 
 awakening, him will she love. But old Groger- 
 mere is scared 'most out of his senses by the 
 things that have been happening in Jglma^s cave, 
 and, being a coward by nature, he hasn't wits 
 enough left to wake Rosalind and complete the 
 charm. Old Jglma is clear out of patience with 
 him for his cowardly delay. She finally gets him 
 to the place where he is to say: "Wake, lady, 
 wake to be all mine!" This is to be repeated 
 three times. Grogermere says it once, when the 
 blows of an axe are heard. Jglma lets out a wild 
 scream. They have begun to chop down her 
 tree! In vain she implores the powers of evil to 
 help her. The blows strike deeper into the oak, 
 and each blow strikes into the witch's heart. At 
 last they have cut far into the tree and it is ready 
 to fall. Jglma sees her finish and cries out: 
 
 "The end hath come! The end! I die!— I die! 
 Ha! ha! Ye heavens, split with my last cry! 
 Ha—! Ha—! Ha—!" 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 237 
 
 She rushes off, screaming wildly. There is a 
 crash. The fire beneath the caldron goes out. 
 The cave is in complete darkness. Crafton and 
 Grogermere flee from it. Without is the sound of 
 fighting. Then silence. And then about the 
 head of the sleeping Rosalind appears a halo 
 of light. Rupert, sword in hand, rushes in. He 
 finds Rosalinda but he cannot move her from the 
 spot where she lies. He takes from his leather 
 pouch a flask of holy water. This was given him 
 by Friar Joseph to use in breaking up any charms 
 that might be of bother in the cave. Rupert drops 
 three drops into the caldron. There is an explo- 
 sion. "Ha!" cries Rupert, "The power of that 
 vile hatchery of wickedness is o'er." Then he 
 sprinkles the remaining drops about Rosalind, 
 That breaks the charm, and she awakes to find 
 herself in Ruperfs arms. 
 
 The last scene, the eighth, is a forest glade, 
 where Rosalind and Rupert hold court. Rosalind 
 is herself once more, clad in garments that become 
 the wife of Rupert. Word is brought to them of 
 the prisoners. Lord Crafton and Lord Grogermere, 
 by John of Ardmore, one of Ruperfs men. Craf- 
 
238 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 ton, so John says, is brave, but Grogermere is the 
 biggest coward on record. 
 
 Rosalind begs Rupert to be kind to her father, 
 and he tells her that the prisoners are hers to do 
 with as she pleases. So John is sent to bring the 
 two lords in before them, and while they are wait- 
 ing for him to come back they decide to send 
 both Crafton and Grogermere back to their homes. 
 
 But John does not return. Friar Joseph com- 
 ing in his place. The worthy friar has a long 
 story to tell. He says Lord Crafton bid him come 
 to him, and when he entered the place where the 
 prisoners were confined he found Crafton stretched 
 on his cot, with his face strangely drawn. Then 
 to the friar Lord Crafton told his tale. He was 
 not Rosalindas father, but a cousin of her father. 
 While yet she was a babe, he had raided her 
 father's castle, burned it, and put all to the sword 
 but herself. He took her to his own castle and 
 brought her up as his daughter. "But,'' says 
 Friar Joseph, "he repented him of his cruelty, 
 and as death stole the breath from out him " 
 
 "Death!" says Rosalind. "Say ye death?'' 
 
 "Death, my child," says the friar, "for he 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 239 
 
 wished it, and a phial of poison which he had 
 with him brought painless death." Then Friar 
 Joseph goes on to tell how Crafton begged that 
 Rosalind forgive him, and left to her all that he 
 died possessed of. 
 
 At last, to make all happy for Rupert and Rosa- 
 lind, a messenger comes from the king, granting 
 Rupert forgiveness and restoring him to his lands. 
 
 And then the play ends. Rupert says: 
 
 " But ever here, within these forest glades, 
 Will be my best-loved seat. Here shall I bide, 
 And here erect a castle for my bride. 
 Now Heaven be thanked that sees this happy 
 
 day. 
 When justice, love, and mercy end our play! " 
 
CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 Sunday, July 9. 
 
 It has been a long time since I have written in 
 my Barnstormer record. But now that "Rupert 
 the Red Ranger" is over, I have very little to 
 do; in fact, I have more time than anything else. 
 
 I am afraid "Rupert" will be our last show 
 this summer. Here I had looked forward to the 
 Barnstormers giving five or six shows anyway, and 
 now — ^now it seems like the whole thing is over. 
 That is what brought me back to this record, I 
 guess; I wanted to tell somebody about how badly 
 I felt, and I didn't have any one to tell; so writ- 
 ing my misery down on paper seemed the only 
 way. 
 
 It's like this. Larry has gone to work as a 
 water boy down at Stephen's quarry. He makes 
 five dollars a week, which is lots of money, and 
 he doesn't really have to work so very hard. 
 John and Hal have gone to spend the rest of va- 
 cation with an aunt who is an old maid and lives 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 241 
 
 alone. She wrote to their mother, and wanted 
 some of the children for the summer, and since 
 Hal and John were the only ones old enough to 
 send who weren't too busy to go, why, off they 
 went last Tuesday. They did get to stay over 
 until after we had given "Rupert" but they had 
 to beg hard for that. 
 
 So here I am — the only Barnstormer left! Of 
 course, Herbert is still here, but he doesn't count 
 hardly, for he is so much younger and wasn't 
 one of the original Barnstormers. The Barnville 
 is the lonesomest place I ever saw; just like a 
 house where folks have died and you are the 
 only one left. I feel 'most like there were 
 ghosts about as I sit here at our "dramatic desk," 
 writing away in my record. I can hear old Ber- 
 nardo rumbling out his lines, and Ernest saying 
 high and noble speeches, and Selim telling Zara 
 she may have the keys to the donjon. And then 
 there is the ill-fated Adelbert, d3dng of the poisoned 
 wine, and Huon, his slayer, and old Hilda, with 
 her high, cracked voice. And last of all — Rupert 
 the Red Ranger, and Lord Crafton, and Lord Grog- 
 ermere, and Jglma, and Friar Joseph. Woo-0-0! 
 
242 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 It's a spooky place! But I like those ghosts — 
 they are friendly ghosts of parts we all Uked and 
 knew 'most as if they were real people. 
 
 Before I go any further, I must tell about 
 "Rupert the Red Ranger" and what a great 
 success it was. We gave it last Monday night. 
 It was the biggest, best play yet — even if I did 
 help write it — ^and it made the biggest hit. That 
 is something to remember, if "Rupert" is to be 
 our last play. 
 
 We made an outdoor theatre which was better 
 than we had hoped, and which people Uked ever 
 so much, too. We certainly did fix it up in 
 style. It looked "classy," as John said, and I 
 think that is the word to describe it. 
 
 We found that we couldn't move the seats 
 down from up-stairs without quite wrecking the 
 Bamville, so we rented fifty of those folding chairs 
 they use at funerals. Mr. Bury, the undertaker, 
 let us have them, because no one was dead, and 
 he didn't need them that day. They cost us two 
 dollars; and because of that we had to charge 
 ten cents admission to the show. But people 
 paid it, for they like our shows so well they 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 243 
 
 don't grumble about the price. We had a string 
 of Jap lanterns hung outside to give Ught enough 
 for the audience to see the way to their seats. 
 The yard in front of the carriage house slopes 
 down just enough to make each row of seats a 
 little higher than the one in front of it, like seats 
 are in a theatre. We put sawdust on the ground 
 to make it look neat and clean. 
 
 Making a stage in the carriage house wasn't 
 such a great deal of work. We moved down the 
 curtain, the back drop, the wings, and the green 
 room scene. For the forest settings we used green 
 branches, just as we had always done before. 
 
 Jglma's cave was about the only new setting 
 for the play. But that was a corker, all right! 
 It was lots of work to get fixed, but we didn't 
 mind that. Hal thought of how we could make 
 the setting, and as soon as he told us of his plan 
 we knew it was exactly the thing to do. 
 
 Jglma^s cave is different from the one we had 
 in "Bianca," for that was just a cave entrance, 
 while this was supposed to be the whole inside of 
 the cave. We wanted it to look Hke a rocky 
 cavern — like the Httle cave on the hillside at 
 
244 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 Leonard's Springs picnic grounds. We wanted it 
 low around the sides and high in the middle, with 
 bumpy, irregular places, and those stalactite things 
 hanging down. But how could we do it? That 
 was a big question. And Hal found the way. 
 
 He and John have a tent ten by ten feet that 
 they used to have for camping. It leaks now, so 
 it isn't much good for camping trips any more. 
 But the idea came to Hal that it would be just 
 the thing to use for a cave, and when he told us 
 of his plan, we saw it was a first-rate one, and 
 we all fell for it on the double-quick. 
 
 What we did was to fasten a rope to the cen- 
 tre of the top, and several other ropes to other 
 parts of the roof of the thing. These we tied to 
 the beams above, and they held it up, but let it 
 hang unevenly, like the roof of a cave. The sides, 
 all but the front one, were fastened down here 
 and there to make them stay. When we weren't 
 using the setting, we loosened the sides and laid 
 the whole tent up over a beam out of the way. 
 But when it was all fastened down, and the floor 
 was covered with the old tarpaulin, made bumpy 
 by things stuffed under it; and when the caldron, 
 
'JGLMA S" CAVE WAS ABOUT THE ONLY NEW SETTING FOR 
 THE PLAY. IT WAS LOTS OF WORK TO GET FIXED, BUT 
 
 WE didn't mind that 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 245 
 
 with its red fire, was in the centre of the stage, 
 the effect was great. The only light came from 
 that red fire under the caldron, and from the spot- 
 light, which had a red glass sHde over it and was 
 fixed on the caldron itself. The scene was the 
 best we have had yet. 
 
 We acted our parts better in "Rupert" than 
 we have done in the other plays. Now that we 
 have had so much experience, we are getting to 
 be 'most professional actors. And then, too, we 
 knew it was our last play for a long time — maybe 
 forever! — and we went into it for all we were 
 worth. 
 
 That scene where Jglma^s power is broken — 
 dad says it is the "cHmax" of the play — ^was our 
 high-water mark. John as Jglma was great. He 
 fairly scared me when the first blow of the axe 
 soimded and he let out that awful screech. When 
 he finally rushed off screaming, and the tree fell, 
 it was the most thrilling thing you could imagine. 
 Herbert had to manage all those noises, but he 
 certainly did do them as they should have been 
 done. For the axe blows he chopped at a big 
 piece of wood, and when the tree was supposed 
 
246 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 to fall he threw ofif a lot of heavy things from 
 the top of an old box where oats used to be kept. 
 Then, while John was out hurriedly changing from 
 Jglma to Ruperty the two of them made all sorts 
 of unearthly noises. When Hal and Larry joined 
 them the noises grew worse, and then came quiet 
 as the spot-light fell on Rosalind^ lying in a death- 
 like sleep, while Rupert gazed spellboimd at her 
 from the entrance to the cave. 
 
 I don't need to say much about the other scenes, 
 though they certainly did please people, for they 
 all worked out well. Mrs. MacAnnaly was at 
 the play, and she just bragged on us. 
 
 And now it is all over! I can't believe it as I 
 sit here at the desk where Hal and I worked on 
 "Rupert." The stage of the Bamville is all j&xed 
 up again, and I have swept it and made it look 
 so nice. It seems as though Hal and John and 
 Larry should be coming up the stairs to a re- 
 hearsal — and here Hal and John are clear off in a 
 little town in New York and Larry is down at 
 the quarry carrying water. I wish I had a job! 
 
 I've got it! I will have! I'll write some plays 
 for us to give when Hal and John come back 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 247 
 
 home and Larry's job is through. 1*11 start at 
 once and write a whole book of plays just like 
 the "Comic Tragedies." I know how now. And 
 then the time will go so quickly that before I 
 know it we will be back in school again, and we 
 can give plays — ^my plays! — all winter. Why 
 didn't I think of it before? But I'll not lose any 
 time. I'm in for beginning right off! 
 
 What will I call them — ? Let me see. Ah — 
 "Barnstorming Tragedies!" Hurrah! 
 
 Here goes! 
 
 The End 
 
RUPERT THE RED RANGER 
 A BARNSTORMING TRAGEDY 
 
 BY 
 "BOB" 
 
CHARACTERS 
 
 Rupert the Red Ranger, an otUlaw, 
 
 Lord Crapton Vere de Vere. 
 
 Lord Grogermere, of Grogermere Hall, 
 
 Friar Joseph, a hermit. 
 
 John of Ardmore, one of Ruperfs men. 
 
 Lady Rosalind Vere de Vere, Lord Grafton's daughter. 
 
 Jglma, a druid priestess and witch. 
 
 A messenger from the King. 
 
RUPERT THE RED RANGER 
 
 Scene I 
 A garden. 
 
 When the curtain rises, Rosalind is discovered 
 seated on a rustic bench, 
 
 Rosalind. Oh, why does he not come? I grow 
 impatient waiting here. Each moment without 
 him seems an age, and when we are together time 
 flies so I know not where it goes. Oh, Rupert, 
 Rupert! How I love thee! And yet thou art 
 an outlaw! But if an outlaw, still a noble man, 
 brave, true, and generous, giving thy booty to the 
 worthy poor and aiding all those who suffer and 
 are in distress. Come, dear Rupert, come! The 
 moments are like hours. Hist! Some one ap- 
 proaches! Perhaps 'tis he! 
 
 Enter Rupert disguised as a peddler, 
 
 Rupert. Ha, fairest lady, are ye not she whom 
 
 men call Lady Rosalind Vere de Vere? 
 
 251 
 
252 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 Rosalind. The same, sir. And what would ye? 
 
 Rupert. [Opening his pack] Here, my sweet 
 lady, are gems and silks, perfumes and spices — 
 luxuries quite fit for one so fair as thou. Will ye 
 not look, my lady? 
 
 Rosalind. Ah, sir, I have no desire for such 
 bawbles. Fain would I be in the sweet greenwood, 
 where jewels and silks are of but Httle use and 
 nature herself furnishes the perfumes. My heart, 
 good peddler, is set on other things. 
 
 Rupert. Ah, lady, I have guessed it! You are 
 in love. 
 
 Rosalind. How knew ye that, my man? But 
 sooth, ye speak true. Though why I should admit 
 it to you is beyond me. 
 
 Rupert. Your very look doth tell you are in 
 love. And is he brave and noble — ^fitting the de- 
 votion of one so fair and true as thou? 
 
 Rosalind. Ah, stranger, he is the noblest man 
 who ever lived. He is brave, he is strong, he is 
 true. We love each other very much. Ah, that 
 I might only see him now! 
 
 Rupert. [Removing disguise] Look, dearest lady, 
 here he stands before thee! 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 253 
 
 Rosalind. Rupert! Ah, thou hast given me 
 such a fright! I thought thou wouldst never 
 come. But why this strange disguise? Would 
 you test my love by your fooHsh questions? 
 
 Rupert. Nay, lady, nay. I doubt not thy 
 love and devotion. But a man with a price upon 
 his head may not come and go as he Hst. Tis 
 a time of danger for me. Were I to come hither 
 known to all men as Rupert the Red Ranger by 
 my scarlet suit, my Hfe would not be worth a 
 battered farthing and our love might all too soon 
 be brought to a bitter end. Ere long we must fly 
 together, dearest Rosalind, and in our forest glades 
 find happiness and safety. Father Joseph, the 
 hermit, will wed us, and once deep in the track- 
 less forest, we will forget the trials that have beset 
 our love and Hve but for each other. 
 
 Rosalind. Andmay that time soon come! My 
 father grows more impatient every day to bring 
 about my marriage with old Lord Grogermere. 
 My father is in great need of money, and Lord 
 Grogermere hath offered a goodly sum to buy me 
 for his wife. 
 
 Rupert. The wretches! And your father 
 
254 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 would wed you to that ancient coward when 
 he knows that your love is another^s? 
 
 Rosalind. Blame him not. He is in great 
 need. But though I have always obeyed him, in 
 this must I disobey. I will not be sold. 
 
 Rupert. You do no wrong in disobeying, dear- 
 est Rosalind. Your love is your own to bestow. 
 It cannot be bought and sold. It is a sacred 
 thing, and I to whom it hath been given shall 
 cherish it as a gift of Heaven. 
 
 Rosalind. And when, dear Rupert, shall we 
 take our flight together? 
 
 Rupert. Soon, dear Rosalind. A few days, per- 
 haps. I must first make ready a place for my bride. 
 
 Rosalind. Dost thou not know that what 
 serves thee would serve me? That whatever 
 shelter your greenwood offers, I would ask noth- 
 ing better? 
 
 Rupert. Only a few days 
 
 Rosalind. But I am afraid, Rupert. My fa- 
 ther will stop at nothing to bring about this wed- 
 ding with Lord Grogermere. Should he decide 
 to force me into it some time when you were far 
 distant 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 255 
 
 Rupert. Fear not, dear one, you shall never 
 be another's. 
 
 Lord Crafton parts hushes and observes pair. 
 
 Rosalind. But I do fear, dear Rupert. The 
 thought that I should lose you is torture. The 
 thought that I might be another's 
 
 Crafton. [Coming forward] Odd's hfe! What 
 have we here! Wretch, you shall hang for this! 
 Get thee into the castle, girl, and leave me to 
 settle with this villain. 
 
 Rupert draws sword. 
 
 Rosalind. I will not go! 
 
 Crafton. What? Thou wouldst defy me? An- 
 other song wilt thou sing when this wretch's body 
 swings from the gibbet where the bodies of all 
 such villains belong. 
 
 Rupert. Yes, when, my lord! 
 
 Crafton. Impudent villain! [Draws sword] 
 Hence, out of my garden. What ho! Garford, 
 William, John — ^where are the knaves! 
 
 Rupert. [Disarms him] Another word and ye 
 die! 
 
 Crafton. [Glares at him in baffled rage] B-r-r- 
 r-r-r! 
 
256 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 Rupert. [Embraces Rosalind] Fear not, dear 
 lady. Should ye need me, send word by some 
 trusted messenger. Adieu, dearest love. 
 
 Rosalind. Farewell! And if I need thee thou 
 wilt come? 
 
 Rupert. Though a thousand deaths stood 
 between! Adieu — I go, but soon we will meet 
 again! 
 
 Exit Rupert. 
 
 Crafton. B-r-r-r-r-r! I shall put an end to 
 this, girl! To hold secret meetings with an outr 
 law! It is unthinkable! But I shall put an end 
 to it! To-morrow you wed Lord Grogermere! 
 
 Rosalind. Oh, father! — ^To-morrow? 
 
 Crafton. Yes, to-morrow! I am weary of this 
 nonsense. Grogermere can give you all that heart 
 could desire — and at the same time repair my 
 shattered fortunes. Come, why do you object? 
 
 Rosalind. Oh, father, have pity on me! I do 
 not love him. 
 
 Crafton. Love! Bah! This outlaw again! 
 But come! Into the castle with you, and pre- 
 pare for the wedding. No tears — ^you must be 
 beautiful! 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 257 
 
 Rosalind. Oh, Rupert, Rupert! My Red Ran- 
 ger! 
 Come, save me from this dreaded danger! 
 
 Curtain, 
 
 Scene II 
 
 Rosalind's chamber. Balcony at rear. 
 
 Rosalind. My wedding day! It should be a 
 day of gladness, but I find it one of sorrow. Oh, 
 that Rupert knew! I sent word to him, but I 
 fear me the messenger hath failed to reach him. 
 But if he knows of my present peril, he will not 
 fail to rescue me from it, though a thousand Lord 
 Grogermeres and Craftons oppose him. 
 
 An arrow, to which is tied a silken thread, is 
 shot into the room through the window 
 opening on rear balcony. 
 Rosalind. [Starting up] What is this? Ah, can 
 it be from him? [Picks up arrow] A silken thread 
 is fastened to it, and here upon the head a note 
 is tied! 'Tis from Rupert! I am saved. 
 Opens note and reads. 
 
258 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 Dear Lady: 
 
 Draw the silken thread in through your window. 
 To it is fastened a rope. Then draw up the rope 
 till you have secured a package and a rope ladder 
 which are fastened to the end of it. In the pack- 
 age is a disguise for you. Don it and escape by 
 the rope ladder. I wait below in the disguise of 
 a beggar, which I have donned over my suit of 
 red. Make haste. 
 
 Ever your 
 
 Rupert. 
 
 Rosalind. Heaven hath heard my prayers and 
 I am saved! Now let me make haste, for soon 
 my father and that cruel man who would be my 
 husband will knock on the door and call me forth 
 to my wedding. But they shall knock in vain! 
 For she whom they would lead forth to a fate 
 worse than death will be with the man of her 
 choice in the merry greenwood! 
 
 She draws up the silken cord, the rope, and 
 secures the package and ladder, 
 
 Rosalind. And now for my disguise! [Opens 
 package, A boy^s suit of scarlet is disclosed] Dis- 
 guise, indeed! But what care I? If that will 
 bring me safely to my Rupert, then shall I fling 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 259 
 
 false modesty away, for I must escape this living 
 death that waits me, and gain the love that is my 
 own true right. 
 
 A knock is heard. 
 
 Rosalind. They come! Oh, Heaven shield me! 
 Let not all be lost when sweet success is quite 
 within my grasp ! But all will not be lost! I will 
 not yield! Yet will I find a way to win my end 
 and join Rupert there at the base of the castle 
 wall! 
 
 The knock is heard again, 
 
 Rosalind. Enter, my lords. 
 
 Lord Crafton and Lord Grogermere 
 enter, 
 
 Grogermere. Good morrow, sweet lady. 
 
 Rosalind. Greetings, my lord. 
 
 Grafton. Not ready yet, girl? 
 
 Rosalind. Have patience, father. My tiring- 
 woman hath not yet finished the wedding gown. 
 Remember, this, my wedding, came most unex- 
 pectedly upon us, and to make fit preparation to 
 become the bride of one so noble, so great, and so 
 much to be honored as Lord Grogermere requires 
 time. 
 
26o THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 Bows to Lord Grogermere, who is much 
 flattered. 
 
 Grogermere. No hurry, sweet child. I have 
 waited long, and a few minutes more or less, now, 
 do not matter. 
 
 Rosalind. Then, my lords, excuse me. I will 
 to my tiring-woman and make haste to prepare 
 myself for the wedding. 
 
 She exits, having secured the scarlet suit 
 unseen, 
 
 Grafton. As to the sum we named, my lord, 
 I find it not sufficient for my needs. Three thou- 
 sand ducats is the price of thy bride. 
 
 Grogermere. Three thousand ducats! 
 
 Grafton. Not one penny less! 
 
 Grogermere. You rob me, sir! 
 
 Grafton. Is not the lady worth three thousand 
 ducats? She is fair. 
 
 Grogermere. Aye, but there are other maids 
 as fair. 
 
 Grafton. But not well bom as she. Think 
 twice, my lord, before you dare refuse. Remem- 
 ber, the lady is a noble daughter of the lords of 
 Vere de Vere! 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 261 
 
 Grogermere. Three thousand ducats! 
 
 Grafton. Gome, sign me the paper — she is 
 yours. Refuse, and I will hold her for a higher 
 price. 
 
 Grogeraiere. I yield. Though know that once 
 she is my wife, all claim you have upon her must 
 quite cease. And should I wish to slay her with 
 my sword, that is my right! 
 
 Grafton. Quite so, my lord! I yield her to 
 your keeping. But the price — three thousand 
 ducats. Here is the paper — sign. 
 
 They sit at table and Grogermere signs 
 paper. 
 
 Grogermere. There! Now yield me up my 
 bride. 
 
 Rosalind. [From without] A moment, sweet, 
 my lords! My father, pray go to the warden, 
 and bid him bring me here my jewels which are 
 locked safe in the tower. 
 
 Grafton. I go, dear RosaHnd. Make haste, I 
 beg, and be quite ready when I do return. Await 
 me here. Lord Grogermere. 
 Exit Grafton. 
 Rosalind, hearing a length of rope looped at 
 
262 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 the end, steals in from rear wing. She is 
 dressed as a hoy in the red suit. She throws 
 the loop over Lord Grogermere's head, 
 and before he is aware of what has hap- 
 pened, has tied him to the chair. 
 Grogermere. Thieves, murder, help! What 
 ho! Heigh! What is this? Who art thou with 
 an angel's lovely face and the demeanor of a devil 
 red? 
 Rosalind. Ha, ha, ha, ha! Sweet bridegroom, 
 stay! 
 I would have been thy bride this very day! 
 But other plans prevent our wedding, so 
 I really fear that I will have to go! 
 Adieu! And when we hap to meet again, 
 I hope you'll suffer less chagrin and pain! 
 She disappears over the balcony, 
 Grogermere. Help! Help! I say I'm robbed! 
 Help, thieves! Murder! Fire! Lady Rosalind 
 hath escaped! Three thousand ducats! My duc- 
 ats! My bride! What ho! You villains of 
 Lord Grafton! Come! Lord Grogermere calls! 
 Come! Save me! Save my bride! Save my duc- 
 ats! Help! Help! 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 263 
 
 Enter Crafton. 
 
 Crafton. Ha! What is this? Why all this 
 outcry? What's amiss? What — tied? 
 
 Grogermere. The bird hath flown. My bride 
 is gone! 
 
 Crafton. Ha! Red Rupert is at the bottom 
 of this! But come. [Unties hirri] Come! We will 
 have revenge! We'll gather all my men and 
 search the forest till we find thy bride and that 
 red villain who hath led her oJ0F. And not alone 
 on might of men will we lean, but on the power- 
 ful, deep, unknown, unseen. For Jglma, the 
 druid witch and priestess shall aid us with her 
 spells. Come! Let us seek Revenge! 
 
 Grogermere. Revenge! 
 
 Crafton. Re\^nge! 
 
 Curtain, 
 
 Scene III 
 Friar Joseph's cell. 
 
 The Friar at prayers before his altar, A knock is 
 heard. 
 
 Friar. Enter, if ye come in peace. And if ye 
 
264 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 come in war, know that here dwells only a poor 
 man of God, without treasure or wealth, save that 
 which he hath laid up in heaven. 
 
 Rupert. [Without] Fear not, worthy father. 
 'Tis I — Rupert the Red Ranger, and I bring my 
 bride thither for you to make us one. 
 
 Friar. My blessings on thee. Enter! [They 
 come in] What? — Methought thou saidst a bride, 
 and here I see only a pretty boy — such a page, 
 truly, as well might serve a queen. 
 
 Rosalind. Oh, father, forgive me, but 'tis I who 
 am the bride. To escape my cruel father I fled 
 thus disguised. Here soon I hope to don my 
 woman's garments, and as my dear Rupert's wife 
 make a home in these forest glades. But for the 
 present you must take me as I am. 
 
 Friar. Welcome, my child, and may Heaven 
 bless thee for thy courage that hath led thee to 
 such brave deeds for the man thou lovest. 
 
 Rupert. And now, father, we would have thee 
 wed us. 
 
 Friar. Even so, my children. Kneel thou be- 
 fore me. [He stands by altar. They kneel.] 
 
 Do thou, Rupert, take this maid to be thy 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 265 
 
 wedded wife, to watch over and guard, to love 
 and honor, to care for in health and illness, in 
 happiness and sorrow, and to cherish as thine own 
 till death do you part? 
 
 Rupert. I do. 
 
 Friar. And thou, Rosalind, do thou take this 
 man to be thy wedded husband, to honor, love, 
 and obey till death do you part? 
 
 Rosalind. I do. 
 
 Rupert. With this ring I thee wed. 
 Puts it on her finger. 
 
 Friar. What God hath joined, let not man put 
 asunder. I pronounce thee man and wife. 
 
 Rise, children, and may happiness and peace 
 attend thee in thy path through life. The bless- 
 ings of an old man upon thee. 
 
 Rupert. Thank thee, father. 
 
 Rosalind. The rewards of Heaven be thine!* 
 
 Rupert. Now we must go to seek our rustic 
 shelter, soon, I hope, to be replaced by a home 
 more worthy of my bride. Fare thee well, and 
 my heart's deepest thanks for what thou hast 
 done for us. 
 
 Rosalind. Farewell, father. 
 
266 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 Friar. Farewell, my children. My prayers and 
 blessings go with thee. 
 
 Rupert and Rosalind exit. Friar goes to 
 altar ^ where he kneels. 
 
 Curtain, 
 
 Scene IV 
 A wood. 
 Enter Rupert and Rosalind. 
 
 Rupert. And now that we are safe in my own 
 greenwood, and Friar Joseph hath made us one, 
 we need no longer fear. But woe to thy father 
 and old Lord Grogermere should they seek to fol- 
 low us here. 
 
 Rosalind. But, dear Rupert, remember. Lord 
 Crafton is my father. Though he hath been un- 
 naturally cruel, still do I keep within my heart a 
 daughter's love and respect. Remember, should 
 he fall into our hands, we must not use him too 
 unkindly. 
 
 Rupert. Yes, dear one. But should he seek to 
 take thee from me, my heart will know no mercy. 
 Now await me here while I go to yonder hilltop 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 267 
 
 to light the signal-fire that will let my men know 
 we are within the forest. 
 
 Rosalind. Oh, Rupert, I am afraid! Should 
 anything happen to take thee from me — or me 
 from thee ! 
 
 Rupert. Fear not, dear one. Blow thrice upon 
 this pipe should danger threaten, and I will hasten 
 to thy aid. Adieu, my love. 
 
 Rosalind. Adieu, dear one, and may you come 
 soon back to me. 
 
 Exit Rupert. 
 
 Rosalind. Ah, I am weary, for we have come 
 
 so far. I will couch me here upon this leafy bed, 
 
 and rest my weary limbs till Rupert comes. And 
 
 if, perchance, a gentle slumber steals my senses, 
 
 then in my dreams I'll see dear Rupert's noble 
 
 face. Oh, I am weary! Heaven guard me well. 
 
 Lies down at side. She is partly hidden. 
 
 Soft music. Crafton and Grogermere 
 
 steal in. 
 
 Grogermere. Sh — ! Methought I heard a 
 noise! Ugh! I am afraid! Since we did lose 
 our guard I shudder when the wind sighs through 
 the trees. 
 
268 • THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 Crafton. Brace up! Brace up! This is no 
 time for cowards! We deal with red-clad Rupert 
 and his band. 'Tis said they bum their captives 
 at the stake, like to wild Indians in the far new 
 world. 
 
 Grogermere. I — I — I — I well b-b-believe they 
 may! Oh, that I ne'er had left the castle gates! 
 Now Heaven keep us from their prowling bands, 
 and bring me safe again to Grogermere Hall! 
 
 Crafton. I doubt if ever you do see its walls 
 again. 
 
 Grogermere. Oh — oh — s-s-say not so. I trem- 
 ble like a leaf. [He lets out a yell, 
 
 Crafton. Ha! Silence, fool! 
 
 Grogermere. I thought I heard a noise. 
 
 Crafton. Doth wish to bring all of Red Ru- 
 pert's band to haul us 'fore their chief? Another 
 sound from out thy coward throat, and like a 
 menial low I'll run thee through, and say thou 
 wert killed by Rupert and his band. 
 
 Grogermere. Have mercy pray! I — I — I am 
 so m-m-much afraid I know not what I do! 
 
 Crafton. Coward! Sit down. We must take 
 counsel here, and find some way out of our desper- 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 269 
 
 ate case. Should we fall into Rupert's hands, our 
 lives are worse than forfeit. If we are not killed, 
 he'll make of us low menials for his men and have 
 us serve them till we die. 
 
 Grogermere. You think he will not kill us? 
 
 Crafton. You, perhaps, he'll torture, since you 
 seem so much afraid. It hath ever been great 
 sport to torture cowards. Me — ^well, perchance 
 my daughter will save me. 
 
 Grogermere. T-t-t- torture! Ugh! 
 
 Grafton. One way remains to escape the vil- 
 lain's hands. A league from here there is a hid- 
 den cave wherein an ancient crone hath dwelt 
 long since. Men know not when she came nor 
 whence. 'Tis said she ne'er will die, but lives 
 until some greater power shall break her druid 
 charms. We'll seek her out, and get some power- 
 ful charm, or, perchance, a demon guide to lead 
 us safely from the forest. 
 
 Grogermere. A witch! And how shall we 
 know she will not do us harm? She may e'en 
 change us into demons curst! 
 
 Crafton. We'll take our chances. Come, let's 
 away! 
 
270 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 They start across stage. Cratton stumbles 
 over the sleeping Rosalind. 
 
 Ha! Ha! 
 
 Grogermere. Help! 
 
 Craeton. Silence, fool! 'Tis RosaKnd herself! 
 And sound asleep. Give me thy scarf. 
 
 [Binds her arms. 
 
 Rosalind. [Awakening Oh, Rupert, is it thou? 
 [Screams] My father! Grogermere! Lost! lam 
 undone! But touch me not! I'm his! I'm his, I 
 say ! For we are wed, and all your cruelty can't 
 take me from him! 
 
 Grogermere. Ha, ha! We'll see! 
 
 Craeton. Silence! [Seizes Rosalind] Nay; 
 struggle not! Here, Grogermere, lend a hand. 
 
 Rosalind. Help! Help! Oh, Rupert, help! 
 
 Craeton. [Stops her mouth] Nay; not so loud, 
 my lady, not so loud ! He cannot hear thee though 
 thou shout. We laid him low while sweetly thou 
 didst sleep, and death alone will bring him back 
 to thee! 
 
 Rosalind. Oh, say not so! Cruel man that thou 
 art! Dead? Nay! It cannot be. But if it's 
 true, then let me die! Oh, Rupert! Rupert! 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 271 
 
 Crafton. Here, take her feet! We^U carry her 
 to ancient Jglma's cave. He'll search long ere he 
 finds his lady there. 
 
 Rosalind. Oh, Rupert! Rupert! Dead? Nay; 
 'tis a lie! 
 Crafton. Ha, ha, ha! Revenge, revenge! 
 Grogermere. Revenge! 
 Exit all. 
 
 Rupert of stage sings, 
 Rupert. Out of the forest I come, my love, 
 Out of the fair greenwood. 
 And I love thee, darling lady fair, 
 Who art fair as thou art good. 
 [Calls] Rosahnd! Rosalind! [Enters] Rosalind! 
 Where art thou? Gone! Gone! Do my eyes 
 deceive me? Nay; there hath been a struggle. 
 'Tis her father and old Grogermere have done 
 this deed. [Blows thrice on pipe] Now come, my 
 men! We will win the lady back and punish her 
 rash captors. Oh, Rosahnd! Rosahnd! 
 
 Curtain. 
 
272 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 Scene V 
 Jglma's cave, Jglma bending over a caldron, 
 
 Jglma. Ha, ha! I weave a spell to hold quite 
 
 fast 
 Whoe'er shall underneath its power be cast. 
 First, now, into this pot of boiHng blood 
 I drop a wicked lie nipped in the bud. 
 I let it boil, and boil, and boil, and boil, 
 And in the caldron bubble, steam, and moil. 
 Ha, ha! Old Jglma knows to weave a charm 
 Of wicked worth, and muckle deal of harm! 
 Now thereunto I add a dried bat's eye; 
 The whiskers of a buzzing bottle fly; 
 The wriggling wiggles of a typhoid germ; 
 The sightless eyes of an earth-tunnelling 
 
 worm; 
 The thousandth leg from off a centipede; 
 The triple essence of a miser's greed; 
 The last Ufe of a nine-Uved black tom-cat; 
 A hangman's smile; an o'erfed monkey's fat; 
 And all of this with poison rank I cool, 
 For deadly poison is my rigid rule. 
 Ha, ha! And now the fire's blaze doth say. 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 273 
 
 That something vile and evil comes this way; 
 But all my charms defend me! There comes, 
 
 too, 
 A something innocent, and good, and true! 
 Haste, all ye devils ! Come and aid me quick ! 
 For goodness breaks my power, and makes 
 me sick. 
 A knock. 
 Who's there? 'Tis Jglma challenges! Be- 
 ware! 
 Crafton. a friend, sweet witch. Let us come 
 in, I pray. 
 
 Jglma. A friend? Ha, ha! I have no friends, 
 they say! 
 
 Crafton. 'Tis one to whom thou oft hath sold 
 thy charms. 'Tis Crafton, lord of ancient Crafton 
 Hall. With me I bring Lord Grogermere and a 
 brazen maid I once did call my daughter. Much 
 do we need thy aid. 
 Jglma. Devils help me! I do feel afraid! 
 Enter, I say, but seek to do me harm. 
 And each I'll wither with a deadly charm. 
 Enter Crafton and Grogermere with 
 Rosalind. 
 
274 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 Rosalind. Pray, what dread place is this? 
 Why do you bring me here? Heavens! That 
 vile-faced hag! She makes me afraid. Oh, father 
 — you whom I once loved, and who once loved me, 
 deliver me not into the power of this creature. 
 
 Jglma. Ha, ha! 
 
 Crafton. Silence! 
 
 Grogermere. Indeed, sweet Rosalind, I — I — I 
 do fear her myself. She hath a most unlovely 
 face! 
 
 Crafton. Silence, fool! Sweet Jglma, I do 
 come to see what thou canst do to break my 
 daughter's will. She hath eloped with Rupert 
 the Red Ranger, and swears that they are wed. 
 I told her we had slain him, but as we left the 
 copse where we had found her hiding, Rupert's 
 voice, tuned to a love-song, echoed through the 
 woods. Then, when my daughter knew that Ru- 
 pert Hved, her obstinacy was doubled. My wish 
 is to wed her to Lord Grogermere. I come to 
 thee for some right powerful charm that will make 
 her look on Grogermere with favor. 
 
 Grogermere. For, troth, am I not a man to 
 win most any lady? 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 275 
 
 Crafton. Silence, fool! [To Jglma] If she will 
 not wed him, then I leave the rest to you. 
 Rosalind. Oh, father, mercy! 
 Crafton. Do what thou wilt with her. She 
 will no longer be mine. 
 
 Rosalind. Father, have mercy! Let me return 
 to my husband. Deal with me less cruelly, father, 
 I beg of thee! 
 
 Crafton. Silence, girl! I will not hear thee 
 more. 
 
 Rosalind. Rupert, my Red Ranger, will yet 
 
 have revenge on all of you for this! 
 
 Jglma. [Aside] Ha! Rupert! I do fear that 
 
 man! 
 
 'Twas long ago foretold that when my power 
 
 Broke, and I faced my last, stern, reckoning 
 
 hour. 
 And all my magic from me far had fled. 
 Vengeance would come upon me clad in red! 
 Crafton. Come, come, a charm! Work with 
 thy magic on the maid. 
 Jglma. Quite as you say, my lord. Yet I'm 
 afraid! 
 To Rosalind. 
 Ha, my pretty, do not flee; 
 
276 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 In yonder man I'll make thee see 
 Him whom thou dost love the most 
 In all the world's unnumbered host. 
 Close thy eyes, and when anew, 
 Yonder ancient lord they view. 
 Thou wilt find him perfect quite 
 For thy own true loving knight! 
 Rosalind. I do not fear thy charms! E'en 
 magic cannot make me look on any man other 
 than Rupert and see in him one whom I love! 
 Jglma. Ha! That name again! 
 But I will bind thee with a magic chain 
 That even Rupert cannot break. 
 Goes to caldron. Takes up some of contents 
 in hands. Sprinkles drops about Rosa- 
 lind in a circle. 
 Thus from my magic pot these drops I take. 
 Ha, ha ! My lady, sweet, thou art bound fast ! 
 And till I do release thee will it last. 
 Rosalind. I cannot move! Oh, father, bid her 
 loose me from these cruel charms. Here am I fast, 
 chained by some unseen power. Oh, say the word 
 and have her set me free! 
 
 Crafton. Nay, girl, thou shalt not go hence 
 till thou goest as Lord Grogermere's bride. 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 277 
 
 Rosalind. Then here I stay until sweet, wel- 
 come death shall free me. 
 Death I fear not. I fear not any danger, 
 While I am true to Rupert, my Red Ranger! 
 Jglma. Ha, ha! [Makes motions at Rosalind 
 with hands] Morpheus' bride thou art. 
 And slumbering, mine to use will be thy heart! 
 Rosalind. Rupert! 
 
 [She falls. Jglma catches her, 
 Jglma. Ha, ha! Old Jglma now may work her 
 way 
 And make her yours. Lord Grogermere, ere 
 the day! 
 
 Curtain. 
 
 Scene VI 
 Frlar Joseph's cell. 
 
 Friar. A strange imrest disturbs my very soul, 
 a feeling that some strange thing's in the wind. 
 Pray Heaven it be not that harm hath come to 
 that brave lad and his fair RosaHnd. 
 
 Rupert. [Without] Father! Father! 
 
 Friar. Enter, my son! [Rupert comes in] Ha! 
 
278 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 What's amiss? Why these wild looks? Why this 
 unseemly haste? 
 
 Rupert. Oh, father, she is gone! RosaHnd! 
 My RosaHnd! 
 
 Friar. Come, calm thyself and tell me all. 
 
 Rupert. I left her but to Ught my signal-fire 
 to tell my men we were within the forest, and 
 when I did return, the maid had disappeared. I 
 called my men. We searched. The tracks were 
 plain. Lord Grafton and old Grogermere, the 
 villains, had found her resting and had carried 
 her off. But, worst of all, the tracks led plain 
 enough to that dread place — the cave of Jglma 
 old. Oh, much I fear I ne'er will see her more! 
 My Rosalind! Entrance I sought. A wall of liv- 
 ing fire blazed up between the witch's den and me, 
 and through it, faint, I heard my lady call: 
 "Rupert, Rupert, my Red Ranger, 
 Gome save me from this dreaded danger!" 
 
 Friar. Despair not! There may yet be found 
 a way to break the power of this dread druid 
 witch! 
 
 Rupert. There must be found a way! Lord 
 Grafton seeks by charms to win his daughter's 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 279 
 
 heart from me and give it to old Grogermere. 
 E'en now she may have been so charmed that she 
 forgets her husband and on Lord Grogermere 
 looks and sees not what he is but what old Jglma 
 wishes her to see! Oh, Heavens! It shall not be! 
 That wall of fire — old Jglma's charms — the devil 
 himself — I fear them not! For I will win my 
 lady back or die! 
 
 Friar. Nay, nay, my son, be not so hasty. I 
 think, perchance, there is another way. Grows 
 there not there before old Jglma's cave a mighty 
 oak, 'fore which stands an altar rude, carved over 
 with the signs of druid charms, and on which 
 old Jglma daily burns an offering? 
 
 Rupert. Ay, 'tis there! The altar shows the 
 marks of recent fire. The oak, a mighty tree, 
 spreads out its leaves and makes a shade at noon 
 like twilight deep. And men avoid the spot. 
 'Tis said strange ghosts do haunt it and strange 
 spells have fallen on those who rested 'neath its 
 shade. But what of this same tree? 
 
 Friar. Long ere I came to dwell within these 
 forest solitudes, in this same cell there lived an- 
 other man — a holy man, deep versed in holy lore. 
 
28o THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 Well he remembered when within this wood the 
 druid mysteries were yearly held. Beneath that 
 oak was placed the altar where the highest priests 
 their human offerings slew and burned. He told 
 me ere he died that in that tree dwelt all the 
 power old Jglma exercised; that while the tree 
 lived on, old Jglma lived; that when it died her 
 power died with it and she likewise would die. 
 Now go, my son! Call all your men. Then arm 
 yourselves with axes and lay low that mighty 
 monarch of our forest glades. 
 
 Rupert. It shall be done and Rosalind be 
 saved! 
 
 Friar. Stay! A moment! Take this flask of 
 holy water, for perchance it will be needed to re- 
 lease thy lady fair from any charms old Jglma 
 may have worked. Now go! My blessings and. 
 my earnest prayers go with thee! 
 
 Rupert. How can I thank thee, father? Thou 
 hast saved us both! And Jglma shall no longer 
 nile these glades with her dread power. I go! 
 And Heaven help me win the day I 
 
 Curtain, 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 281 
 
 Scene VII 
 
 Jglma's cave. Rosalind still sleeping. Jglma is 
 stirring the caldron. Crafton and Groger- 
 MERE are together on opposite side of stage. 
 
 Jglma. Ha, ha! My pretty lady, slumber still. 
 While the spell lasts on thee I'll work my 
 
 will. 
 Sleep sweetly — and in Grogermere wake to see 
 All of perfection that a man should be! 
 Ha, ha! Ha, ha! Ha, ha! 
 And you, who crouch there fearful 'gainst the 
 
 wall, 
 Fearing on thee my charms jnight hap to fall. 
 Come hither — ^help me win for you the maid. 
 Coward that you are, of me be not afraid. 
 Grogermere. Jglma, sweet Jglma, harm me 
 
 not! 
 Jglma. Ha, ha! I hope thy creaking bones may 
 
 rot! 
 Grogermere. Oh, Jglma, Jglma, pity, mercy, 
 pray! 
 Jglma. I doubt, coward, if thou livest to see 
 the day! 
 
282 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 Grogermere. Heaven defend me! Deep I 
 curse the hour 
 That put me in this wicked creature's power! 
 Jglma. Revile me not! Thou fool! I but as- 
 sayed 
 To find how much thou really wert afraid. 
 Come hither, now, take Rosalind's hand in 
 
 thine; 
 Thrice say: "Wake, lady, wake to be all 
 mine!" 
 Crafton. Be not afraid, Lord Grogermere. I 
 am here to see that no harm comes to thee. 
 
 Grogermere. A strange, cold fear clutches 
 my very heart, and steals throughout my Hmbs. 
 Oh, that I ne'er had followed thee to Jglma's 
 cell! 
 
 Crafton. Come, come, man! Everything will 
 yet be well! 
 Jglma. Ha! Hasten, fool, or troth, the spell 
 will break. 
 And other spells I will be forced to make! 
 Grogermere. Then I obey. And now I take 
 her hand. "Wake, dear lady, w-w-w-w-w-wake 
 to be all mine!" 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 283 
 
 Jglma. [Screams] Ha! What is this! [Blows 
 of an axe are heard] A dagger strikes my heart! 
 I'm being murdered! Now is all my art 
 But useless quite! I am undone, I say! 
 Oh, druid gods ! Your help, your succor, pray ! 
 [Screams] Ha! — the blows! Each is at me, at 
 
 me! 
 They kill my body, set my spirit free! 
 'Twill wander curst throughout eternal years! 
 Mercy! Have mercy! Spare me! Misery! 
 
 Tears! 
 I am undone! My Hfe, my oak-tree falls! 
 Oh, gods and devils! It is Jglma calls! 
 Stop them! Prevent the felling of that 
 
 tree! — 
 They hear me not, and neither do they see! 
 The end hath come! The end! — I die — I 
 die ! — Ha, ha ! Ye heavens, spHt with my last 
 
 cry! Ha—! Ha—! Ha ! 
 
 All lights of, Jglma goes screaming from the 
 cave. The sound of the oak-tree falling. 
 Wild noises. 
 Grogermere. Oh, Heaven, save us! What hath 
 happened? Are we, too, undone? 
 
284 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 Crafton. Lost! Lost! The spell is broken! 
 We must flee! 
 It can be no other than Red Rupert who has 
 
 done this deed! 
 Come, Grogermere, draw thy sword and follow 
 
 me! 
 
 We'll fight our way, and yet we shall be free! 
 
 Both exit. Sound of fighting. Yells. Spot- 
 
 light on face of Rosalind. Rupert, 
 
 sword in hand, hursts into the cave. 
 
 Rupert. Rosalind! Rosalind! Ah! Thank 
 
 Heaven, she lives. Wake, my dear lady, it is 
 
 Rupert calls! She stirs not! Is it death? Is this 
 
 pure light that round her like a halo spreads the 
 
 sign of a sweet spirit passing? Perchance she still 
 
 is under Jglma's charms, though that cruel hag 
 
 lies spent and Hfeless quite, stretched by the fallen 
 
 tree that was her Ufe. Ha! What foul drops are 
 
 these? A charm — a charm! They circle her. 
 
 Perchance they hold her fast. Ay, she is fast! 
 
 I cannot move her though my strength is great! 
 
 Stay! The holy water! First, within the caldron 
 
 I will drop three drops. [Explosion in caldron] 
 
 Ha! The power of that vile hatchery of wicked- 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 285 
 
 ness is o'er! Now here about my lady on the floor 
 I make another circle. On her hps I sprinkle what 
 is left. She stirs, she wakes! Oh, RosaUnd, 'tis 
 I— thy Rupert! 
 
 Rosalind. Rupert! Rupert! 
 
 Rupert. Here am I, dearest lady, at thy side. 
 Now fear no more, for Jglma's power is broken 
 and Grogermere and thy father are captives. 
 
 Rosalind. Oh, Rupert! Rupert! I am safe at 
 last! 
 
 Rupert. Safe always, for my love shall hold 
 you fast. 
 
 Curtain. 
 
 Scene VIH 
 
 A forest glade. Rupert and Rosalind seated on 
 rustic chairs at rustic table. Rosalind is again 
 dressed as a girl. 
 
 Rupert. At last, dear RosaHnd, we find that 
 peace for which we long have wished. No more 
 must we those stolen moments sweet have as our 
 only meetings. Never again will Jglma work her 
 magic black against our love. Henceforth within 
 
286 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 these forest glades we dwell, and peace shall be 
 our lot, and happiness. 
 
 Rosalind. It seems, dear Rupert, almost like a 
 dream — a lovely dream from which I soon may 
 wake to find myself a captive in old Jglma's cave, 
 or locked in some fast tower of Grogermere Hall. 
 
 Rupert. Fear not, my loved one. It is true — 
 quite true. No more shall danger threat thee. 
 Thou art safe. But who comes here? 'Tis John 
 of Ardmore. Enter, we bid thee. And what 
 brings thee here? 
 
 Enter John of Ardmore. 
 
 John. I come, my lord, to ask what's to be done 
 with those two prisoners taken in the fight when 
 Jglma's cave we stormed and did destroy. 
 
 Rupert. Do they rest easy? Have ye done 
 my bidding and made them quite as comfortable 
 as can be here in our forest? 
 
 John. Ay, my lord. But one says not a word 
 and only stares before him with a silent, fixed 
 stare. The other grovels 'fore each man he sees 
 and begs but that we spare him. Such a coward 
 methinks I ne'er have seen in all the years I've 
 ranged the forest. 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 287 
 
 Rosalind. The other — he is brave? 
 
 John. He is a brave man, lady, though me- 
 thinks he now repents him of the wrongs he's done, 
 or else the blackness of his heart may come from 
 disappointment deep, and longing deeper still to 
 yet attain revenge for capture. Sometimes, when 
 alone, he mutters to himself. Again he calls the 
 other captive coward and fool, a grovelling weak- 
 ling not e'en fit to die, and so in truth this other 
 captive is. We have sent the worthy Friar Jo- 
 seph to them to see if holy consolation may ease 
 their present pain. 
 
 Rosalind. Oh, Rupert, though my father hath 
 been cruel, though he hath done against us all a 
 man could do, yet now I would that we might 
 show him mercy, for never will I joy in this, our 
 joy, as fully as I might, if, like a cloud, his misery 
 casts a shadow over all. Grogermere I grieve not 
 for. Unworthy he of pity or of love. But Graf- 
 ton is a man of bravery, and in happier times he 
 was a kind and loving father to me. 
 
 Rupert. John of Ardmore, go and bring the 
 prisoners to us. RosaHnd, to make your happi- 
 ness, which is my own, all that it should be, unto 
 you I leave the judgment of these prisoners. 
 
288 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 Exit John of Ardmore. 
 
 Rosalind. I thank thee, Rupert! Thou art 
 ever kind. And I shall seek to temper justice 
 with sweet mercy. We would not spoil our joy 
 by hurting any Hving thing — and he is my father. 
 Though unnatural, cruel, and changed from him I 
 knew as father, still I do remember him as kind 
 to me when yet I was a child. 
 
 Rupert. Do as thou wilt, sweet Rosalind. 
 Send him back free, but let him know that if 
 again he stoops to cruelty such as he oft hath 
 practised, we will raid his castle and leave not 
 one stone standing on the next. 
 
 Rosalind. And Grogermere? 
 
 Rupert. Him I ignore. Weak fool and coward, 
 he is not worthy death or punishment. The ter- 
 rors that beset him are enough. Send him back 
 to his castle. There, no doubt, he will brag that 
 he hath met and vanquished Rupert and his band. 
 
 Rosalind. See — 'tis Friar Joseph comes this 
 way. He comes alone; his mien is strangely sad. 
 Some dim foreboding says his news is bad. 
 Enter Friar. 
 
 Rupert. Welcome, holy father. 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 289 
 
 Rosalind. Welcome. 
 
 Friar. Greetings, my children, greetings. I do 
 come from the two captives, and I bring strange 
 news. When I entered the rude shelter where 
 they lay. Lord Grafton bid me come to him. The 
 man had changed. Upon a cot his body was 
 stretched out. His face was pale and drawn. He 
 drew me close. The smell of some strange stuff 
 was on his lips. 
 
 Rosalind. My father! 
 
 Friar. Nay, my child, be calm. Whispering, 
 Lord Grafton did unfold a tale of his own cunning 
 and past cruelty. Know, Rosalind, that he is not 
 your father. 
 
 Rosalind. Ah! 
 
 Friar. When yet you were a Kttle babe in arms. 
 Lord Grafton and his men waged cruel war upon 
 your father, Gerald Vere de Vere. And when the 
 castle fell, all in it felt the sword, and thus met 
 death, save you, a babe of seven months. Grafton 
 was childless, so he bore you home, for Gerald was 
 his cousin, and some strange compunction seized 
 him when he saw you helpless in your cradle. He 
 reared you as his daughter, and was kind imtil 
 
290 THE BARNSTORMERS 
 
 the question of your marriage rose. But he hath 
 now repented of his cruelty, for, as death stole the 
 breath from out him, he 
 
 Rosalind. Death? Say ye death? 
 
 Friar. Death, my child, for he wished it, and 
 a phial of poison which he had with him brought 
 painless death. 
 
 Rosalind. It grieves me sore. 
 
 Friar. Grieve not! He is at peace, for ere he 
 died he sought to right the wrongs which he had 
 done thee. Here I have his will, and unto you 
 he leaves his castles, land, and whole estate. 
 
 Rosalind. I would I might have seen him ere 
 he died. 
 
 Friar. Grieve not, for he is gone. But seek to 
 feel that in his going he did much repent, and 
 ere he went he sought to right with Heaven the 
 wrongs of a most ill-spent, ill-lived life. 
 
 Rupert. May he forgiveness find! Peace to 
 his soul! [The blast of a trumpet.] Ha! What is 
 this? 
 
 Enter John of Ardmore. 
 
 John. A messenger from the King. 
 Enter Messenger. 
 
THE BARNSTORMERS 291 
 
 Messenger. Know ye, my lord, whom men 
 have called Rupert the Red Ranger, the King 
 hath, on advice of all his lords, decided to restore 
 your titles, lands, and all thereto pertaining. He 
 hath found that grievous wrong was done thee 
 and now seeks to make full restitution. 'Tis the 
 royal command that to the court you come to 
 kiss his hand and there receive full pardon. 
 Rupert. My thanks unto his Highness. I shall 
 come. 
 But ever here, within these forest glades. 
 Will be my best-loved seat. Here shall I bide, 
 And here erect a castle for my bride. 
 Now Heaven be thanked that sees this happy 
 
 day. 
 When justice, love, and mercy end our play! 
 
 Curtain. 
 
^TA I 
 
I.ki6 U& 
 
 .C^^ 
 
 306877 
 
 I 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY