[Some of the men carry the body among the thickets.]
A CHILD
Mother, I'm hungry, I'm hungry!
FIRST OLD MAN
There's no food
For any of us to-night. The snares are empty,
And I can try no more.
THE BLIND MAN
Wait till my son
Comes back. He's a rare hunter is my boy.
You need not fret, poor little one. My son
Is much too quick and clever for the Sheriff.
He'll bring you something good. Why, ha! ha! ha!
Friends, I've a thought—the Sheriff's lit the fire
Ready for us to roast our meat. Come, come,
Let us be merry while we may! My boy
Will soon come back with food for the old folks.
The fire burns brightly, eh?
SECOND OLD MAN
The fire that feeds
On hope and eats our hearts away. They've burnt
Everything, everything!
THE BLIND MAN