In Act Two an Indian maiden has been stolen, and borne away by a white man across the boundless prairie to his wigwam in the golden East. The red chief squats down on the moss with drooping head to bewail the loss of his daughter, during which outburst of grief his streaks of war-paint get rather mixed; but that can’t be helped. Then the spirit of the wild woods appears to him—the ghost of the haunted cañon (that is, between you and me, the Admiral comes hopping up with his neck stretched out, wondering what it is all about)—and whispers to him, and speaks in his ear, and says:—
“Listen to me, brave Chee-tow-wa,
Lie not there upon the meadow;
Stoop not down among the lilies,
Lest the west wind come and harm you.
Follow me across the prairie,
Follow me across the mountains,
I will find the maiden for you,
The maid with hair like sunshine,
Who has vanished from your sight.”
So Chee-tow gets up, seizes his arms, and follows the spirit, who goes hopping on in front of him in a very weird-like manner indeed.
Meanwhile Babs, knowing her part, has hidden herself in a bush, and in due time is led back in triumph as the white man who stole the maiden. He is tied to a tree, scalped, and tortured. Then a fire is lit, and thither the white man is dragged towards it to be burned alive.
But another bear (Bob again) rushes in to his assistance and enables him to escape.
The same fire built to burn the white man (Babs) is being utilised to roast potatoes for supper; only this is a mere detail.
And the play ends by the spirit of the wild woods bringing the maiden back (Babs again) to the camp fire in the forest, and—and by a supper of baked potatoes with salt.
All’s well that ends well. And shortly after the dénouement there may be seen, wending its way in the calm summer gloaming up the little footpath that leads through the green corn, the following procession. First, Bob solemnly carrying the fishing-rod; then Ransey Tansey with a string of red-finned fish in front of him, and Babs on his back, wrapped in the Indian’s blanket; and last, but not least, the Admiral himself, nodding his head not unlike a camel, and lifting his legs very high indeed, because the dew was beginning to fall.
Babs had gone soundly to sleep by the time they reached the farm, but she was lively enough a few minutes after this.
And Mrs Farrow made them stay to supper, every one of them, including even the Admiral, although he said “Tok—tok—tok” several times, out of politeness, perhaps when first invited in.