Scud. Hold on now, Jacob; we've got to figure on that—let us look straight at the thing. Here we are on the selvage of civilization. It ain't our sile, I believe, rightly; but Nature has said that where the white man sets his foot, the red man and the black man shall up sticks and stand around. But what do we pay for that possession? In cash? No—in kind—that is, in protection, forbearance, gentleness; in all them goods that show the critters the difference between the Christian and the savage. Now, what have you done to show them the distinction? for, darn me, if I can find out.
M'Closky. For what I have done, let me be tried.
Scud. You have been tried—honestly tried and convicted. Providence has chosen your executioner. I shan't interfere.
Pete. O, no; Mas'r Scudder, don't leave Mas'r Closky like dat—don't, sa—'tain't what good Christian should do.
Scud. D'ye hear that, Jacob? This old nigger, the grandfather of the boy you murdered, speaks for you—don't that go through you? D'ye feel it? Go on, Pete, you've waked up the Christian here, and the old hoss responds. [Throws bowie-knife to M'Closky.] Take that, and defend yourself.
Exit Scudder and Pete, R. 1. E.—Wahnotee faces him.—Fight—buss. M'Closky runs off, L. 1. E.—Wahnote follows him.—Screams outside.
[Scene IV.]—Parlor at Terrebonne.
Enter Zoe, C. [Music.]
Zoe. My home, my home! I must see you no more. Those little flowers can live, but I cannot. To-morrow they'll bloom the same—all will be here as now, and I shall be cold. O! my life, my happy life; why has it been so bright?
Enter Mrs. Peyton and Dora, C.