George. Dearest Zoe!
[Exit George and Zoe, L. U. E.
As they exit, M'Closky rises from behind rock, R., and looks after them.
M'Olosky. She loves him! I felt it—and how she can love! [Advances.] That one black drop of blood burns in her veins and lights up her heart like a foggy sun. O, how I lapped up her words, like a thirsty bloodhound! I'll have her, if it costs me my life! Yonder the boy still lurks with those mail-bags; the devil still keeps him here to tempt me, darn his yellow skin. I arrived just too late, he had grabbed the prize as I came up. Hillo! he's coming this way, fighting with his Injiun. [Conceals himself.]
Enter Paul, wrestling with Wahnotee, R. 3. E.
Paul. It ain't no use now; you got to gib it up!
Wahno. Ugh!
Paul. It won't do! You got dat bottle of rum hid under your blanket—gib it up now, you—Yar! [Wrenches it from him.] You nasty, lying Injiun! It's no use you putting on airs; I ain't gwine to sit up wid you all night and you drunk. Hillo! war's de crowd gone? And dar's de 'paratus—O, gosh, if I could take a likeness ob dis child! Uh—uh, let's have a peep. [Looks through camera] O, golly! yar, you Wahnotee! you stan' dar, I see you Ta demine usti. [Goes R., and looks at Wahnotee, L., through the camera; Wahnotee springs back with an expression of alarm.]
Wahno. No tue Wahnotee.
Paul. Ha, ha! he tinks it's a gun. You ign'ant Injiun, it can't hurt you! Stop, here's dem dishes—plates—dat's what he call 'em, all fix: I see Mas'r Scudder do it often—tink I can take likeness—stay dere, Wahnotee.