ANDREW. Life.

JOEL. Shucks!

ANDREW. [To himself.] Living!

JOEL. [Sauntering over left, listens.] Hear a rooster crow?

ANDREW. No. What are you doing?

JOEL. Tiltin' the flag over crooked in the dirt. That's our signal.

ANDREW. Nothing could be more appropriate, unless we buried it—buried it in the dirt!

JOEL. She's to find us where the flag's turned down. I fixed that with the sergeant all right. The rooster crowin' 's her watchword for us.

ANDREW. An eagle screaming, Joel: that would have been better. [Rising.] Ah!

[He laughs painfully.