[With a quick flash, Andrew raises the knife to strike, but pauses, staring. The Figure, throwing up one arm to ward the blow, reveals—through the parted cloak—a glint of stars in the firelight.[E]
THE FIGURE. Steady, boys; I'm one of ye. The sergeant told me to drop round.
JOEL. Oh, the sergeant! That's all right, then.
ANDREW. [Dropping the knife.] Who are you?
THE FIGURE. Who be I? My name, ye mean? My name's Average—Sam Average. Univarsal Sam, some o' my prophetic friends calls me.
ANDREW. What are you doing here—now?
THE FIGURE. Oh, tendin' to business.
JOEL. Tendin' to other folks' business, eh?
THE FIGURE. [With a touch of weariness.] Ye-es; reckon that is my business. Some other folks is me.
JOEL. [Grimacing to Ellen.] Cracked!