ELLEN. I am to tell him——
ANDREW. [Defiantly.] Tell him his father deserted his country, and thanked God for the chance. [Looking about him passionately.] Here! [He tears a part of the flag from its standard, and reaches it toward her.] You're cold; put this round you.
[As he is putting the strip of colored silk about her shoulders, there rises, faint yet close by, a sound of fifes and flutes, playing the merry march-strains of "Yankee Doodle."
[At the same time there enters along the embankment, dimly, enveloped in a great cloak, a tall Figure, which pauses beside the standard of the torn flag, silhouetted against the first pale streaks of the dawn.
ELLEN. [Gazing at Andrew.] What's the matter?
ANDREW. [Listening.] Who are they? Where is it?
JOEL. [Starts, alertly.] He hears something.
ANDREW. Why should they play before daybreak?
ELLEN. Andy——
JOEL. [Whispers.] Ssh! Look out! We're spied on!