NO PLAYS EXCHANGED, , 3089 r33 « HCR'5 tDITloN . or PLAY3 RIO GRANDE COPYRIGHT, 1889, BY WALTER H. BAKER & CO. piays for /Amateur Sf^eatriealsl BV GEORGE TU^. BTCKER. Author of '■^ Amateur Dramas" ^^The Mimic Stage" ^^The Social Stage" "The Drawif Room Stage" "Hatidy Dramas^' ''^The Exkibition Dratncts" "A Buyer's Dozen" etc. Titles in this Type are New Plays. Titles in this Type are Temperance Plays, DRAMAS. In Four Ads Better than Gold. 7 male, 4 female char. In Three Ads, 0\ir FolKs. 6 male, <, female char. The Flower of the Family. 5 male, 3 female char Eniisted for the War. 7 male, 3 fe- male char Mv Brother's Keeper. 5, male, 3 fe- male char. <> . . . r/j« TAttle Uroivn tTtitf. 5 male, 3 female char In Two A cis. Above the Cloudt^. 7 male, 3 female char. One Hundred Years Ago. 7 male, 4 female char Among the Breakers. 6 male, 4 female char. Bread ON THE Waters. 5 male, 3 female char Down by the Sea. 6 male, 3 female char. . . . ' Once on a Time. 4 male, 2 female char. The Last JLoaf. 5 male, 3 female char. In One A ct. oTAND BY THE Flag. 5 male char. . . rhe Tempter. 3 male, i female char. COMEDIES AND FARCES. A Mysterious Disappearance. 4 male, 3 female char. Paddle Your Own Canoe. 7 male 3 female char. . ' , . 4. Drop too Much, 4 male, i female char. A Little More Cider. 5 male, 3 fe- male char A Thorn Among the Roses. 2 male, 6 female char Nevkr ^ay Die. 3 male, 3 female char. Seeing the Elephant. 6 male, 3 female char. The Boston Dip. 4 male, 3 female char. The Duchess of Dublin. 6 male, 4 fe- male char. Thirty Minutes for -Refreshments. 4 male, 3 female char. , ". . . » • We're all Teetotalers. 4 male, 2 fe- male char. Male Characters Only. A Close Shave, 6 char. ...... A Public Benefactor. 6 char. . . . A Sea of Troubles. 8 char COMEDIES, etc., continued. Male Characters Only. A Tender Attachment, 7 char. . . 15 Coals OF Fire. 6 char. . . . . . J5 Freedom of the Hress. S char. ... 15 Shall Oar Mother-* Votf? 11 char. 15 Gentlemen OF THH Jury. 12 char. . . 15 Humors OF the Strike. 8 char. ... is My Uncle THE Captain. 6 char. . . . 15 New Brooms Sweep Clean. 6 char. . 15 'Ihe Great Elixir. 9 char 15 I HK Hypochondriac. 3 char 15 . he Man tvith the Demijohn. 4 char IS The Runaways. 4 char 15 The Thief OF Time. 6 char 15 Wanted, A Male Cook. 4 char. . . . 15 Female Characters Only. A Love of a Bonnet. 5 char 15 A Precious Pickle. 6 char No Cure No Pay. 7 char The Champion OF Her Sex. 8 char. The Greatest Plague in Life. 8 char. The Grecian Bend. 7 char The Red Chignon. 6 char Using the Weed. 7 char ALLEGORIES. Arranged for Music and Tableaux, Lighthart's Pilgrimage. 8 female char The Revolt of the Bees. 9 female char The Sculptor's Triumph, i male. 4 fe- male char. .......... The Tournament of Idylcourt. 10 fe- male char. • The War of the Roses. 8 female char. The Voyage of Life. 8 female char. MUSICAL AND DRAMATIC. An Original Idea. i male, i female Bonbons; or, the Paint King. 6 male, I female char ., Capuletta; or, Romeo and Juliet Restored. 3 male, i female char. Santa Claus' Frolics Snow-bound; or, Alonzo the Brave, and the Fair Imogene. 3 male, i female char. The Merry Christmas of the Ojld Woman who Lived in a Shoe. . . . The Pedler or Very Nice. 7 male char • The Seven Ages. A Tableau Entertain- ment. Numerous male and female char. Too Late for the Train. 2 male char. The Visions of Freedom. 11 female char. . . WiVLTER H. BAKER & CO., 23 Winter St„ Boston. RIO GRANDE Sn ©rijjinal ©rama in EJjite 3lcts BY CHARLES TOWNSEND AUTHOR OF "spy OF GETTYSBUKG" " UNCLE JOSH " "THE WOVEN WEB "" BOR- DER land" "e/vkly vows" "deception" "on guard" "miss madcap" "broken fetters" " shaun aroon " "the FAMILY doctor " " A BREEZY CALL " ETC. .^ AUTHOR'S EDITION BOSTON 7^ CHARACTERS. Jose Segura, a wealthy Spanish-American. Col. Lawton, commanding the garrisoti. Capt. Paul Wybert, a junior officer. Judge Biggs, an enthusiastic citizen. Lieut. Cadwallader, an " American aristocrai,^^ and a holiday soldier. Johnnie Bangs, a dime-novel desperado. Corporal Casey, an old " vet.-'' Retta, Segurd's niece ^ in love with Paul. Sophia, Lawton's daughter, betrothed to Paul. MAfiiiE, Johfinie^s sister, a belle of the nineteenth century. Mrs. Biggs, the Judge'' s guiding star. T\^\v..—June, 1&84. Place. — Fort Lanark, N.M. Time of Representation, two hours and twenty minutes. Copyright, 1891, by C. F. Townsend. All Rights Reserved. Notice. — The author and proprietor of " Rio Grande " reserves to himself all right of performing the play in any part of the United States. This publication is for the benefit of such managers or actors as may have been duly authorized by the author or his agents to produce the drama. All other persons are hereby notified that any production of tliis play without due authority will be prosecuted by injunction for damages and other- wise, to the full extent of the law. To Amateurs. — The above notice does not apply to amateur dramatic clubs, which may perform the drama without permission. IX -dfs'oi COSTUMES. Segura. — Acfs I. and II. — White flannel suit ; wide-brim Mexican hat with gold cord ; diamond ring and stud ; long black mustache. Act III. — Uniform of Mexican general; blue coat, faced with red; gilt buttons; epaulets; dark blue trousers, slashed from knee to hem (outside seam), ornamented with rows of small gilt buttons ; Mexican hat ; sword-belt and sword ; gloves ; spurs. Lavvton. — Act I. — Full-dress uniform, colonel U. S. A. Acts II. and III. — Fatigue dress ; short, full beard, short hair, slightly gray. Wybekt. — Act I. — Full-dress uniform, captain U. S. A. Acts II. and III. — Fatigue dress, with sword-belt and sword ; light mustache. Biggs. — Acts I. a?td II. — Rusty black suit; soft hat ; gray hair, partly bald; short, gray side whiskers. Act III. — Same costume, only soiled and torn. Cadvvali ADER. — Act II. — Very " loud" imitation English travelling cos- tume; plaid trousers ; leggings ; short coat ; low-crown, double-visor cap ; field-glass in case, slung over shoulder ; walking-stick ; single eyeglass ; tiny pistol, cigarettes and matches in pocket. Act III. — Same as previous act, minus cap and all accessories ; clothing torn ; eye blackened. Second dress, ordinary walking suit. Bangs. — Acts II. and III. — Exaggerated "cowboy"' costume; rifle, knives, revolver. Casey. — Acts I. and II. — Uniform U. S. A. Chevrons of corporal on sleeves. Retta. — Act I. — Rich and elegant Spanish costume; short, quilted satin skirt ; short jacket, trimmed with scguins ; high, laced riding-boots ; white mantilla ; profusion of ornaments ; dagger. Act II. — Similar dress, but of brighter colors. Act III. — Same as first act, with mantilla of black lace. Sophia. — Act I. — Neat travelling costume. Act II. — House dress, appro- priate for summer. Act III. — Eight wrapper. Mamie. — Act I. — Rather "loud" tailor-made travelling dress. Acts II. a7id III. — House dress, slightly outre. Mrs. Biggs. — Acts I. II. atzd III. — Quiet house dress. PROPERTIES. {See also " Costumes " aiid " Scene Plot.''^) Act I. — Bugles and drums to sound off l. ; swords for Lavvton and Paul; dagger for Retta ; stiletto for Segura. Act n. — Eyeglass, cigarettes, and matches, walking-stick, tiny pistol, and field-glass in case with shoulder-strap, for Cadwall.'vder ; rifie, knives, and pistols for Johnnie; cigar, matches, and folded paper for Segura; swords for Lawton and Paul ; bugles to sound and band to play off L. Act hi. —Watch fur Mamie; rifle, etc., for Johnnie ; band to playoff l. u. e. ; swords for Segura, Paul, and Lawton ; folded paper for Segura ; liquor flask and glass on table. 3 STAGE SETTINGS. ACT I. \ Low Landscape Backing. , I Porch. I . / I Door. I \ Low / Window \ I Chair. I / Window, \ Chair. Po or. Chair Table air. Vy Chi Chair. Easy O Chair. ACT II. {See note beloiu.') Wing of House Porch Landscape. / /Rustic /yseae. Rustic\ \ Seat. \ \ SCENE PLOT. Act I. — Sitting-room in Lawton's house in third grooves, with landscape and mountain backing in fifth grooves. Broad, low windows with draped curtains R. and L. in flat. Door c. in flat, opening on porch, also R. U. E. and L. u. v.. Closed in. Ceiling. Piano l. Easy-chair l. c. Chairs near windows and beside table up R. Pictures on walls. Carpet and rugs. Act II. — Lawn in fifth grooves. Landscape on flat shows distant mountains. Bright sunlight effects. Sky border and sinks. House witli practicable porcli extends from R. u. E., one-third across stage. Balance of r. is a vine-covered lattice, with arches R. u. e. and r. i e. All l. wings are trees. Rustic seats R. and L. Act III. — Same as first act, except that curtains are drawn, and a lighted lamp is on table. Lights partly down. Landscape at first shows faint moonlight effects, which changes to early sunlight when curtains are draped back. Note. — On a small stage, or where the scenery is limited, the second act may be played without change of scenery.. REMARKS ON THE PLAY. This is a play of Western army life, but the army is only sug- gested. There are no b-'Ule scenes, Indians, horses, cowboys, nor red fire. The play is ntirely domestic in treatment ; and the exciting events which follow in rapid succession are rational effects from self-evident causes. The characters are well diversified, the aciion is brisk, and the interest is sustained until the last moment. In considering the relation of the characters to each other and to the story, the following suggestions by the author will be of interest. Segura is a peculiar character, and should be studied with the utmost care. He is a man of wealth, education, and refined taste. He speaks pure English, with but the faintest possible accent. His bearing is easy, graceful, self-confident, and he appears to be a gentleman at all times, excepting when aroused by passion. And even then he should quickly recover his customary suave, polite manner. Avoid all melodramatic business, especially any glaring, stamping, hissing, or other stilted work. The cynical speeches should be given quietly, and with no appearance of studied efibrt. His age is about tiiirty-five, and the make-up is that of a Spaniard, — a trifle darker than usual, — with black hair, eyebrows and mus- tache. He speaks with quick, nervous energy, and his movements are energetic and forcible. La WTON is a man of fifty or thereabouts. He is quick and rather dogmatic in speech, usually exhibiting the bluff, positive manner of the successful military man. His face should be bronzed from exposure, and his hair and beard should be slightly gray. Wybekt is the orthodox young lover. He is a high-spirited, quick-tempered man of twenty-five or thirty, and should be com- paratively free from self-restraint in order to show up well in his interviews with Sophia and Segura. He wears a mustache and his face is slightly bronzed. BiGGS is a man of fifty-five, stout, florid, partly bald, with short, gray side whiskers. His style is brisk, pompous, and grandilo- quent. This is a comedy character throughout, and may be given considerable latitude. Deliver his long speeches 7-apidIy, as the part will bear no draggmg. Cadwallader must never be over-acted. The tendency indeed should be in the opposite direction, for to caricature this part is to ruin it. Immobility of countenance must be retained at all times, and the soft, effeminate style should be preserved until after his interview with Mamie in the third act. His gestures should be few and stilted ; and particular care should b^ taken to avoid over- doing the drawl in his speech. His age is about twenty-one. Bangs. This character is simply that of a "fresh" young American, about seventeen years of age. Avoid overacting, espe- 5 6 REMARKS ON THE PLAY. cially when assuming the"touoh/' His speech should be rapid, his movements brisk and snappy. Casey is a typical stage Irishman, having nothing to particularly distinguish him from others of his class, except that, being a soldier, he must at all times assume an erect, military bearing. Retta is a difficult character to assume, and requires the most thorough and careful study to portray it with proper effect. She is called upon to represent such varying passions, — love, hate, joy, grief, anger, sorrow, jealousy, remorse, hope, fear, and the like, — that none but a careful, earnest actress should attempt the role.. Petulance should be strictly avoided, together with all forced or unnatural emotion. It is very easy to overact a character of this sort ; and when that is done, the effect is grotesque. Quiet intensity is the most effective, and at no time should there be an attempt at high tragedy. The gestures should be few, and the voice should be pitched rather low than high. Retta's age is about sixteen, and her make-up should be that of an ideal Spanish girl, — a Castilian, dark, with black hair and eyebrows. The lady who assumes this part must needs look the character as well as act it. Sophia should be played with much life, animation, and con- siderable freedom from restraint. Although the character is much lighter than Retta's, yet there should be a certain amount of dignified restraint underlying even her lightest moods, as she has considerable serious business, especially in her interviews with Paul and Segura. Her age is nineteen years. Mamie is an mgeujie, and therefore it is particularly necessary that she assume an air of unconscious innocence when delivering her somewhat "rapid" speeches. The least exhibition of self-con- sciousness destroys the illusion, and the character wearies instead of amusing. To be really effective, her words and actions must appear unstudied and free from all restraint. Age, about nineteen. Mrs. Biggs is the characteristic "old woman." In this play she should be fat, fair, and — fifty. Her scene with Mamie at the close of the second act is very effective, if well done, and very, ^'ery flat, if it is allowed to drag. Indeed, this character requires much vivacity in every scene, a fact which should be constantly borne in mind. Particular attention must be given the music, which is an important factor, especially at the close of the second act. In the heavier scenes allow plenty of time for the necessary business, but keep the action brisk in the comic passages. The success of this play depends to a great extent upon the elaboration of the by-play and business ; therefore, especial care should be observed in cast- ing the characters, and the play should never be presented without the most thorough and careful rehearsal. Special Note. — The uniforms for Lawton and Wvbert may be procured in any town having a miUtary company or Grand Army Post. Elsewhere blue flannel suits will answer every purpose. RIO GRANDE, ACT I. Scene. — Sitting-room at Lawton's, in 2,d grooves. Door c. ifi flat opefiing 07i practicable porch. Doors., r. u. e. and l. u. e. Stage set as per " Scene Plot.'''' Discover Biggs asleep in easy- chair., \.. Q. Bugles and drums sound of I., u. e. Bigg's, {sleepily^. Achoo ! a-a-achoo ! achoo ! Shut the door! Confound you! shut — the — door! Why the devil — ( Yawns.') Bless my soul, if I haven't been a — {yazvns) sleep. Hanged if I couldn't sleep ihirty-six hours a day without half trying. It's the a — {^yawns) climate. That's what it is, the climate. \Yaw}is.) {Enter Mrs. Biggs, r. u. e., to c.) Mrs. Biggs. It's laziness, Mr. Biggs ; that's what it is — lazi- ness Biggs. Mrs. Biggs ! Mrs. B. Mr. Biggs! Biggs. Do you mean to stand there, as it were, Mrs. Biggs, under the high-arched dome of the Empyrean heavens, and assert that I — I — J.udge Jeremiah Biggs, am slothfully sluggish .'' Mrs. B. Just so, Jerry. You know you are the laziest man on the Rio Grande. Biggs. Draw a line at the greasers, Mrs. Biggs ; draw a line at the greasers, if you have any respect for my feelings. Mrs. B. Well, what are you loafing about here for '^ Biggs. Loafing, Mrs. Biggs ? loafing ? Understand me : I am here on business — particularly importantly pressing business. Mrs. B. Business ! You .? Ha, ha, ha ! O Jerry ! {Goes L. laughing.) Biggs. Mrs. Biggs (she langhs), Mrs, Biggs — I ^— you (she laughs) Mrs. Biggs — burr-r-r-r ! (Another laugh.) Well, then, damn it, laugh — damn it, laugh ! (Crosses R.) Mrs. B. There now, Jerry ; don't lose your temper, Jerry. You would be in an awful pickle without it. Biggs. Mrs. Biggs, your hilarity is inconsequential, paradoxi- cal, condemnationable, and I'll be everlastingly — • 7 8 RIO GRANDE. Mrs. B. Jeremiah Biggs ! Biggs. As it were. Ahem. To resume : The colonel, as you know, expects his daughter and several friends from the effete and decaying East to visit our untrammelled, free, and boundless West. They will arrive to-day. And I, as a representative citizen of this great and glorious country, consider it my paramount duty to receive them with hospitable arms, and show them the inconceiva- ble wonders which await them. Mrs. B. And get laughed at for your pains. Biggs. Laugh at me — at me — me, Judge Biggs! You don't know what you're talking about. I'd fine 'em for contempt of court. Laugh at me ! {Crosses l.) Mrs. B. At all events, Miss Lawton will require none of your overpowering information. Biggs. No, bless her heart ! and if she did, I'd deputize Capt. Wybert. Mrs. B. They're engaged, you know. Biggs. No, I did not know, you know. By some occult demon- stration a woman can locate an engagement anywhere between New York and Sah Francisco. Engaged, eh ? And what will Seiior Segura do when he hears of it ? Mrs. B. Who cares what he does ? He's nothing but a Mexican. Biggs. You're mistaken, my dear. Sefior Segura is a Spanish- American, rich as mud, and proud as Lucifer. Still, I hope that your information regarding Capt. Wybert and Miss Sophia is correct. And I shall be most delightfully happy if, in my official capacity as magistrate, I am called upon to unite them in the beauteous bonds of holy matrimony. Here upon the classic banks of the far-famed Rio Grande ; in this lovely land o'erflowing with milk and honey ; with its gold, silver, copper, lead, iron, salt, Indians, greasers, and other rare and rank commodities {exit Mrs. Biggs, disoiisted, r. u. e.) too somewhat numerous to mention ; where the glowing golden sunlight falls across the opalescent-tinted mountains, those watchful sentinels of our limitless empire which throw their mystic shadows athwart the bounding river {enter Casey, c. d.), where men may come, and men may go, but I go on forever. Casey. Then why the divil don't ye ? By the piper that played before Moses, I belave ye air capable av it. Biggs. Ah, corporal, I can't go on. I am — Cas. Stuck ? Ye don't mane it! Biggs. .With this glowing picture before me, words fail to express my emotion. Cas. Shure that's jist what I thought "tother day whin I kim down hard upon the business ind av a scorpion. Biggs. You should never mind those trifiing things. Cas.^ Trifling? Shure it made me a lump as big as me two fists. RIO GRANDE. 9 Biggs. Your soul should be above the mere discomfort of a lump. Cas. Aha, but the lump was not on me sowl at all, at all ! Biggs. Good-by, corporal. I am going over to the railroad station where I shall await, with judicial calmness, the momentarily expected arrival of Miss Lawton and her most distinguished friends from the East. Therefore, ^c/Z^j- {at c. d.). In the language of the poet, I must get me hence away. {Exit c. d.) Cas. Now what the divil does he mane by gittin' his hins away? Faith he kapes no hins at all excipt a few geese an' turkeys. He's a quare ould bird. I'm thinking he's mistooken his vocation. He ought to have been a phonograph — or else a mother-in-law. {Enter Lawton, c. d.) I.AWTON. Casey ! Cas. {salutnig). Sor ? Law. Take a train wagon, with a couple .of men, and drive over to the station for the baggage of the party. Cas. Yis, sor. {Salutes, goifig.') Law. And, Casey — Cas. {saluting). Yis, sor. Law. Be lively. Cas. Yis, sor, {Salutes, going.') Law. And, Casey — Cas. {saluting). Yis, sor. Law. a — that's all. Cas. Yis, sor. {Salutes, exit C. D.) Law. And so my little girl is coming back again to her soldier father and soldier lover. I suppose we shall have that precious Segura hanging about here again. With all his wealth and ability I cordially dislike the fellow, and to — {Enter Segura, c. n.from r.) speak of the devil ! {Goes l.) Segura. A thousand compliments, Col. Lawton, from your devoted servant. Law. {stiffly). Thank you, Senor Segura. Seg. Has your beautiful and accomplished daughter arrived yet ? I was told that you expect her to-day. Law. My daughter has not yet arrived. Seg. It will be such happiness to welcome her return. She, the life, the grace, the joy, of the garrison. Law. Thank you. Seg. And I venture to hope that she will return whole- hearted ? Law. Indeed! And I venture to hope that the question is her own affair. {Crosses r.) lO RIO GRANDE. Seg. (l.). Ah — the colonel will have his little joke. {Aside.) Damn the colonel ! Law. You must excuse me, seiior. I have some business requiring attention. Make yourself comfortable {aside) ; and be hanged to you ! {Exit R. u. e.) Seg. Thank you. {Bows ve)y low.) The most comfortable thing I could do would be to run a knife under his fifth rib. I dis- like him ; I detest the girl ; I hate the whole cursed American tribe ; but to get her in my power, — to crush the proud beauty as 1 crush my peons, — for that I would be fool enough to marry her. And the man who marries without just provocation, is the biggest fool possible. {Enter Retta, quickly., c. Ti. from l.) Retta. O uncle ! I saw him, uncle ! {Looks oJf'L.) 1 saw him ! He is here. Seg. Who? Ret. Who ? Why, Paul — Capt. Wybert. He doesn't know that we have arrived. Won't it be a surprise ? Oh, I am so happy ! Seg. Bah ! You simpleton ! Have you no sense .'* If you want to lose your adorable captain altogether, just throw yourself at his head. Ret. I don't want to lose him ! I don't {stamping) ! I won't lose him ! He shall love me — he must — or I will — Seg. Finish your sentence ; or — you will kill him. Exactly. That is a part of woman's inheritance from Mother Eve. Ret. I — I would not harm him. Seg. No? Not if he trampled on your heart — made it his plaything — cast off your love for another — flouted you — scorned you ? (Retta nervon'sly clasps handle of dagger.) Ah ! I thought you would find that interesting. Ret. But he will not — he cannot forget that I saved his life after he was shot in that battle with the Indians. Seg Possibly not. But some day you will learn, my dear, that we men have short memories for past favors. Did this captain make love to you ? Ret. No — not very much. I — I did about all the love-mak- ing. Seg. Without doubt ; and therein you played the fool. Re- member this fact : We " lords of creation " prefer to do the love- making and lying ourselves. {Goes np R.) When woman tries to woo she makes a mess of it, for she speaks the truth and — scares the game. {Exit R. u. e.) Ret. I wish I knew what he was talking about. It sounds very pretty and grand, but — oh, there he comes — there he comes ! {Retires 2ip l.) RIO GRANDE. II {Enter Paul, c. ii.,frofn l.) Paul {dowti c). Sophia has arrived, and in about ten minutes I shall be the happiest fellow in New Mexico. Ten minutes .'' It's more like ten years. (Si'/s.) But I must not be impatient. Only I hope there won't be a crowd of the juniors taj^ging after. (Retta sh'ps quietly behind him and covers his eyes with her hands.) Hello! Oh, you rascal! I know who it is. I'll guess the first time. It is — it — is Sophia ! Ret. {indignantly). It is not / {Crosses R.) F A\SL {rising). Retta! {Aside.) O Lord! Ret. Who is Sophia ? Paul. Eh ? Ret. Who is Sophia ? Paul. Why — she is my — er — Miss Sophia Lawton. Ret. What is she to you t Paul. Eh.? Ret. Um ! {Stamping.) What — is — she — to you ? Paul. She is — we are — er — I mean I am — {Aside.) Oh, hang it all ! Ret. Well, sir ! Paul. Look here, Retta ! You have no right to question me in this manner, and you know it. Ret. Paul ! Have you forgotten — Paul. No, I am profoundly grateful for your good services when I lay wounded at your home. I would gladly be your friend if I could. But — pardon me — mere friendship seems impossible with you. Ret. O Paul, Paul ! I cannot believe it. {Embracing him.) Tell me you will — tell me — Paul. Good heavens, Retta! Can't you understand — don't you see — {Enter Lawton, c. d.) Law. Wybert — (Retta goes l.) Paul {saluting). Sir .? Law. {down c). Some scouts have brought in a report. I wish you would receive it. Paul. Yes, sir. {Aside to Lawton.) For heaven's sake, get rid of her. Law. Who is she ? Paul. Segura's niece ; the beautiful devil who saved my life last summer. Law. Present me. Paul. Retta — allow me to present Col. Lawton ; Colonel, the — the Sefiora Segura. I am called away on duty, so pray excuse me. {Aside.) Blessed relief! {Exit c. d. to R.) Law. When did you arrive. Miss Retta? Ret. a half-hour ago. 12 RIO GRANDE. Law. Then you came with your uncle ? Ret. Yes. He had been here often, and this time I begged him to let me come. I wanted to see Paul, you know. Law. 'Hem — undoubtedly; but I fear you will see very little of him. He is engaged — Ret. Engaged ? Law. In military duties, you know. {Aside.) What a little fury ! Ret. Military duties — oh, certainly. Capt. Wybert is a born soldier. Law. My daughter will be here directly, and I am sure that she will be delighted to welcome you as her guest, and to thank you for your Good Samaritan work with Capt. Wybert. {Goes up c.) Ret. So — then your daughter is — Law. {at c. d.). Here at last. {Comes down R. Retta goes up L.) {Enter Sophia, quickly^ c. T>.from l.) Soph, {ninning to Lawton). Oh, you dear, dear, darling old papa! {Embracing him.) How glad I am! How well you are looking ! Where is Paul ? Law. Receiving reports. He will be here directly. By the way, let me introduce you to Paul's good angel, who saved his life last summer. Seiiora Segura — may I have the pleasure — my daughter, Miss Lawton. Soph, {crossing to her). Who cannot thank you enough for your — Ret. Keep your thanks, if you please, until they are wanted ! {Exit R. u. E.) Soph, {suiprised). Of all things ! And he called her an angel ! Law. {aside). Whew ! I smell a rat. {They go up L.) {Enter BiGGS a7id Mamie, c. Ti.from l.) Biggs. Ladies — ahem — ah — yes. This is the most beatific moment of my mundane, corporal existence. To welcome to the hospital)le shores of the glorious Rio Grande the quintessence of youth and beauty, from the far-distant East — the American Ori- ent, as it were ; to extend the right hand of joyful fellowship across the broad continent, bidding hail with stentorian lungs to the fair denizens of the sounding seaboard, and to clasp {sees Mamie calntly observing hi?n) — and to clasp, er — {same busi- 7iess) to clasp — er — ahem — {same bnsijtess) yes, as it were. Mamie. Wind him up again ! He's run down ! Biggs. Eh ? Mam. Say, do you sell real estate ? Biggs. Real estate } {Aside.) Bless my soul ! RIO GRANDE. 1 3 Mam. Because that's just the sort of comic opera a fellow gave the governor and me one day when we went to view a country- place in Jersey. My ! He was a whole brass band, that fellow. Biggs. Was he mendacious — so to speak ? Mam. You mean was he a liar. Oh — no. He told the truth — great, big, square chunks of it. Said the soil was awfully won- derful — could raise anything. He was q. c. — quite correct. The governor raised a mortgage the first thing; and Johnnie — that's my brother — he raised um — (^poi)iting downwards) all summer long. Biggs {aside). I'm paralyzed. — Excuse me, please. I want to go away somewhere and think. Judge Biggs, you've met your match ! O woman ! O woman ! O woman ! {Exit R. u. e.) Mam. Done up in a single round. Next. Soph, {comes dow?i with Lavvton). Mamie — let me present my father, Col. Lawton ; my friend, Miss Bangs. Law^. I am very glad to meet you. Mam, Thanks awfully. Who is that antique orator "^ Law, Judge Biggs — a capital old fellow, with a wonderful ca- pacity for saying nothing. But where are the others ? Mam. Johnnie is getting his gun. He wants to shoot a few buffalo or Indians or tigers or something before dinner ; and Mr. Cadwallader is back there helping your Irish corporal swear at the trunks. Law. Helping Casey ? Mam. Yes ; Lieut. Cadwallader swears dreadfully. I have really known him to say, " Bah Jove." Law. {/la if aside). The devil ! Mam. No — the dude ; but usually the lieutenant is very lady- like. Law. And so you had a military escort. Soph. Oh, yes ; Lieut. Cadwallader is an N. G. soldier. Law. Eh ? Mam. N. G. S. N. Y. He is in the National Guard— -the Dude's Own. (Crosses to Lawton, l.) {Enter Paul, c. d.) Paul. Sophia ! Soph. O Paul! Mam. Go ahead. We won't look. {Converses with Law- ton ) Paul. And you are really back again ? {They stand swinging hands.) Soph. Really — really — really ! Paul. Now I wonder if it is yourself. Mam. Bite her and see. Paul. Thank you. {Kisses Sophia.) Mam. Well ? 14 RIO GRANDE. Paul. Genuine, I think. Til make sure this time. {Attempts to repeat kiss.) Soph. Be-have ! Let me present you. Mamie, allow me — Mam. Oh, bother! It's Capt. Wybert and I'm Miss Bangs. Don't waste valuable time. {Going.) Soph. You need not go, Mamie. Mam. Of course not. We wouldn't dream of it, would we, Colonel .? {Takes Lawton's ann and exits R. u. e.) Paul. Rather rapid, isn't she } Soph. It is fashionable. Paul. Indeed .'* Then to be up to the times, a girl of this happy period must square her shoulders, talk horse, wear her brother's hat and coat, and shame the devil with slang. Soph. Oh, you cynic ! And yet you pretend to love one of these dreadful creatures. Paul. But you are not fashionable. Soph. Oh, thank you ! Paul. I mean in that way. Soph. No. Paul. Thank Heaven for it. Tell me about the others. Soph. Johnnie is her brother. There is Celtic blood in the family, and he has the most of it — mischief and all. He is a dreadful dime-novel desperado. Our otlier guest is 'Lieut. Cad- wallader, a holiday soldier, whose knowledge of war is limited to a week once a year in the State encampment, and a weekly drill at the armory. They are very anxious to kill a few Indians Paul. And they will have a chance. Soph. A chance } Surely — O Paul, you don't expect trouble ? Paul. At any moment. The authorities at Washington, ac- cording to custom, have fed, clothed, and petted the red devils all winter ; and now that summer is here we may expect an outbreak at any point. Soph. But not here ? Paul. Very likely. I have received a report from our scouts, and they tell me trouble is brewing. Soph, {half oyino). Then you will go and get shot again, and that horrid Spanish girl — Paul. Tut, tut ; she saved my life, remember. Soph. And now she claims it, too. Oh, I saw the demon of jealous hatred in her eyes when I tried to thank her. {Crosses R.) Paul {aside). There will be an awful row. Soph. I suppose it is very flattering to you. Paul. Now, my darling, don't you be jealous. Soph. Well — who has a better right ? Paul. Nobody of course. But come now, don't make us both unhappy over nothing. Soph. Is she nothing ? Paul. To me .? Yes. Soph. But don't you admire her ? Be careful now ! RIO GRANDE. I 5 Paul. I admire her pluck When my horse went down in that mad charj^e, and I lay wounded and helpless at the mercy of an ambushed gang of Apaches, it was she alone who rode like a whirl- wind into the crowd and whipped them single handed. Isn't that somethirig to admire ? Soph. \douhtfuIly). Ye— yes. But you won't fall in love with her because of that "i Paul. No. Soph. Never, never, never? Paul. Never — never — never. Soph. Then you may — Paul. Seal the compact ? I will. {Kisses her.) {Enter Segura, r. u. e., comes down c.) Paul. There — the sky is clear again. Seg. My compliments to Miss Lawton. Soph. Oh, Senor! {Crosses \..) Paul {aside). Confound the Seiior ! Seg, Are we to have amateur theatricals at the garrison ? Soph. Amateur theatricals ? Seg. And perhaps I interrupted a rehearsal. Paul. Sir, do you — Seg. Don't be offended. These little comedies are so very amusing. Of course if it were possible to be serious upon such an occasion, the result might be disastrous — at least to some. (Sophia goes 7ip l.) Paul. What do you mean, sir ? Do you infer — Seg. Nothing whatever. To a man like you, inference is quite unnecessary. Paul. What in the devil are you driving at .'' Seg. Bah ! A blind man should see. Paul, Perhaps you want a quarrel. Seg. Really .? Paul {hotly). If you do, sir, you will find me — Seg. Don't exert yourself. I only quarrel with ^^^;///^;;/^;/. Paul. You've gone too far, sir. I've a mind — Seg. You forget. There is a lady present. If you want satis- faction, I shall be most happy to furnish it, when and where you choose. Paul. And you may be sure I will! {They go np R. and c.) {Enter Mamie, quickly, c. d.) Mam. Oh, I'm dead! I'm dead! I know I am! Soph, {beside her). Poor child ! What killed you ? Mam. You needn't laugh at me, so now! Paul (l). But what was it .^ Mam. a great, horrid, awful, terrible alligator! All. What ! 1 6 RIO GRANDE. • Mam. I don't care. It was an alligator or — or something. And it jumped right at my stock — er — ahem ! — Well, you know. Paul. It was the — ha, ha, ha! {Goes up L., laughing^ Mam. Oh, was it .^ Well, I'm glad I've found out — awfully! Soph. It belongs to the Judge. Don't be frightened. Doubt- less he thought you were a — a — {tinns azcaj', laughing) ha, ha, ha! Mam. If the Judge thinks I'm a "ha, ha, ha," Til break my parasol over his head ! {Entc?- Casf,y, c. d.) Mam. Corporal, did you see him ? Cas. {sa/Mting). Indade I did ; an' who is he ? Mam. That dreadful monster? Soph. The Judge's pet. Cas. Ye mane the lizard. Shure I did, Miss, an' it threw me into a state av temporary insanity, so it did. {Aside to Paul.) The Colonel is axin' fur ye, sor ; more scouts have arrived, and the divil an' all is to pay. An' av ye plaze, sor, he sez kape mum. Paul. All right. (Casey salutes and exit c. d.) Mam. {glancing at Segura). Who is the mysterious stranger? Paul. A — Spanish-American. Mam. Gentleman or "gent"? Paul. Neither. Mam. Stupendous ! Present him. Paul. Excuse me. {Bo2us and exit c. D.) Mam. {aside). Um — case of green-eyed monster ; dark green, too ; b-a-d case. Soph. Come, Mamie, let me show you my cabinet of minerals. Seg. {doiun e.). Pardon me, ladies ; but will Miss Lawton favor me with a brief interview — in private? Soph, {aside). Oh, dear ! Mam. {aside). Another victim! Oh, my — gimini ! {Exit R. u. e.) Seg. Be seated, pray. {They sit l.) What I desire to say, Miss Lawton, has been in my mind for a long time. I should have spoken before this ; but you will readily understand that a man of my rank and station in life cannot permit himself to be hasty in judgment. Therefore, as the subject which I am about to pres- ent — have I the honor of your attention? — thank you; as the subject is one of vital importance, it has been well considered, in all its bearings! My estates beyond the Rio Grande, as you may know, are princely in extent, with mines which yield a royal ransom every year. My flocks and herds are countless, and unnumbered peons are mine to command. All this, with heart and hand, I lay at your feet. I await your answer. Soph. Senor Segura, you honor me too much ; I — I am — Seg. Not at all. It is I who will be honored. Have I then permission to address your father ? RIO GRANDE. 1/ Soph. Believe me, Seiior, I appreciate your oflfer, but — {rising) it would be useless. Seg. Useless — indeed ? {Rising.) May I venture to ask the reason .'' Soph. Because — I — Seg. Go on, please. Because? — Soph. Frankly, then, I do not love you. Seg. That is wholly unnecessary. Soph. Seiior ! Seg. Certainly. I am quite in earnest, I assure you. Love is all very well in the abstract, but it borders too closely on hate for comfort. Esteem and regard are much pleasanler. And assuredly you respect me — do you not } Soph. Yes — but respect without love — Seg. Is all I ask. Soph. Then seek a woman who will wed you on those terms. If I loved you, which I do not ; if I were free to wed you — which I am not — 1 would never disgrace my American birth by giving my hand in such contemptible barter. {C^'osses R.) Seg. An excellent doctrine. What a pity it is that your title- hunting American sisters do not oftener observe it ! Soi'H. That sneer is unworthy of you, Seiior. {Going.) Seg. {stopping Jicr). Pardon me. If I heard rightly, you inti- mated that your hand is already pledged. I take it for granted then that the little comedy I witnessed between you and your up- start Captain was a beautiful and romantic scene from real life — on your own part, at least. Soph. You grow insulting, sir. Let me pass. Seg. Answer me this — {Enter Paul, quickly, c. d.) Paul. Answer him nothing ! Seg. How, sir ! Soph. Paul, I entreat you — Paul. One moment. {Enter Retta, r. u. e., remaining quietly at bac/c.) This lady will answer no questions from you. {So^\\\A goes to L. c.) Seg. Astonishing! And why not ? Paul {hotly). Because she is a lady ; because she is my affianced wife, and as such will hold no communication with a greaser like you ! {Exit with Sophia, l. u. e. As he turns mvav, Segura witJi a muttered curse draws knife and is about to fol- low., when Retta throws herself in front of him, clasping her arms around his jieck.) Ret. No, no, no ! Seg. {strivi?ig to break loose). Stand aside! I tell you — stand aside ! Ret. What would you do 1 Seg. {savagely). And what would you do ? I 8 RIO GRANDE. Ret. Nothing. Seg. Ay, but you would. You would have me spare the life of that upstart beggar who has crossed my path, scorned your love, and broken your heart. {Crosses l.) Ret. Perhaps he — he will yet remember — Seg. Humph ! Are you such a fool as that ? Ret. But I — oh, I cannot bear it — I cannot bear it. {Drops hi to chair by table ^ Seg. And are you so weak — you in whose heart beats the proudest blood of old Castile ? Then pity him, weep for him, pray for him, while he laughs and jeers at your misery ! Ret. Oh ! Seg. And perhaps your rival — Ret. {quickly^. My rival ! Seg. Yes, your rival — your scornful, doll-faced rival — will laugh with him. Oh, it will be rare sport ! Ret. {springing up). Tell me, tell me what I can do. Seg. Ah, you are touched at last ! Ret. Plan, contrive, conjure up something, anything, however devilish, which shall make her feel the agony that I endure. Seg. Kneel, then, and repeat my words. {She kneels c.) "I swear by the Blessed Mother — that while life remains — I will stop at nothing — until my wrongs are righted." {She repeats.) There ! {Draws her to hi?n.) Now you are, indeed, worthy of the land that gave you birth ! Quick Curtain. ACT II. Scene. —La%vn in ^th grooves ; entrances l., through tree wings and through arches^ R. u, e. a7id R. i E. Practicable porch to set house R. w. E ; rustic scats R. and L. {Enter Mamie and Cadwallader, l. u. e.) Mam. There — it's over with, Cadwallader. Ya-as. And Pm awfully glad. Mam. Wasn't the drilling perfectly splendid ? Cad. Well, I cawn't say that it was. Some of the men looked like vawy common fellahs, and I don't like the cut of their uniforms at all, don't you know. I don't like men whose clotlies don't fit. Mam. But 1 thought they got there in their evo-what-do-you- call-ems in great shape. . Cad. Oh, ya-as — they did do vawy well foh ordinary pwofes- sioual soldiers, don't you know, but of cawse they cawn't compaw with our wegiment. Mam. And, besides, they haven't any officers like you. Cad. No, indeed, they haven't. Fellahs who follow a militawy RIO GRANDE. IQ twade foh pay, cawn't expect to equal gentlemen who dwill fob pastime. Mam. Of course not. {Aside.) Oh, isn't he a delicious guy .? Cad, And then this dweadful out-of-the-way place must wuin all the finah feelings. No cigawettes, no soda watah, no vapoh baths, no stage doahs, no kettledwums, — Mam. And sometimes the soldiers really do have to fight ! Cad. Isn't it dweadful! Think of soldiers fighting! My wegiment ?/^7/^/z does anything like that! But I suppose it's all wight enough foh these common soldiers. Mam. It's lucky that you are no common soldier. Cad. Ya-as. Mam. Now, if there should be war, I know that Col. Lawton will ask your advice. Cad. {complacently). No doubt. Mam. And you will give it, won't you, lieutenant ? Cad. Ya-as, of cawse. Mam. And go off and get killed for glory .? QhTi. {doubtfully). Ye-ya-as ; but — aw {^nervously, without draiid), I say, Miss Bangs, you — you don't suppose that there will be trouble } Mam. Oh, no. {Aside, highly amused.) He's talking United- States, by all that's wonderful! {Aloud.) No, there will be no trouble, but there may be some red-hot fighting ; so you better get your hair cut right off short. Cad. Why had'l ? Mam. So they can't scalp you. Cad. This is dreadful. I {with an effort) aw — I mean dwead- ful. Excuse me. Miss Bangs, I have some business to look aftah. {Aside.) I'll wun wight down and see when the next twain leaves foh home. {Exit L. i e.) Mam. If I can only scare a little manhood into him, and a big lot of the dude out, he will make a very decent fellow. {Co?nnio- tio?i off K. \J . K.) Hello! There's a row, and Johnnie is into it up to his neck. (A^/z/tv Johnnie, Casey, and Biggs, r. u. e.) Cas. Luk here, young feller; ye jist bate the divil onto' sight, so ye do. Biggs. He is certainly a most remarkably incorrigible specimen of purely unadulterated youthful depravity. Johnnie. Set 'em up again ! When did you. swallow that dic- tionary .? Mam. Jonathan Montgomery Bangs ! John. Keno ! Go to the head ! Mam. You dreadful boy ! What ha7>e 3'ou been doing ? Cas. Doin', is it ? Shure, miss, he jist was afther shootin' ther Jedge's cow full o' holes — bad cess to him ! John. I thought she was a buffalo. 20 RTO GRANDE. Mam. John Montgome — John. Oh, skip it ! I don't care. Why didn't he put a label on his blamed old milk tank. Mam. Send your bill to papa. John. Along with the cow, and the compliments of J. Mont- gomery Bangs. Cas. Faith, I wish he belonged to me fer jist wan minute. I'd bang him ! John, {^swaggering). Whatter ye soy? If you want blood, call on me. I m the baddest kind of a bad man, and I live on nails and gunpowder. MaiM. You will live on bread and water if you don't behave, for I'll have the colonel lock you up. John. Not muchly now. I'm the colonel's right bower, I am. See 1 There's going to be war, sis, an' I'm all there. I shall return from this campaign covered all over with scalps and glory. That's my gait. Come along, Mame. There's Miss Sophia look- ing for us. Perhaps she sees an Injun. Woh ! {Folloivs Mamie ojL. I E.) Cas. Say, judge, now what do ye suppose the loikes o' him was iver made for onyhow ? Biggs. Your problem, corporal, is one that has taxed the ingenuity of the greatest writers, thinkers, and psychological students — Cas. {aside). O Lord ! Biggs {contiiming). Since the dawn of American history. His mother doubtless imagines that he was created to be President of the United States, in which idea she has a monopoly, since most people know tliat he was born to be hung. Hem ! Now the American small boy — even when he sheds his knickerbockers — is sui generis ; he certainly is not pro bono.- publico. Ahem ! (Casey quietly exits R. u. e.) In the actual point of fact, the earlier writers on anthropology strenuously insist that this dispro- portionableness is prima facie evidence that {looks aronnd) that — that, oh, damn it! {Goes np c.) It is a strange fact that whenever I open the storehouses of my wisdom, Mrs. Biggs goes to sleep, and everybody else goes away. {Enter Cadwallader, l. u. e.) Cad. Oh, deah ! I might have known I'd get into twouble ! Biggs. What is the matter ? Cad. Why, they say the wed skins have pulled up the twack so the twains cawn't wun. and that I cawn't possibly get away. Biggs. And, sir, may I ask, why do you want to get away — to leave this grand and glorious country, this favored land of milk and honey — where tlie golden sunshine mantles the brow of the towering Magdalena Mountains, — Cad. Oh. blazvst the Magdalena Mountains!- Biggs. Sir ! RIO GRANDE. 21 Cad. And blawst the blawsted country ! Biggs. Sir! I — damn it, sir; that talk is felonious felony! It's double-dyed treason, sir — treason ! Cad. Do you suppose 1 want to go fighting those dweadful, dirty, ill-smelling Indians, with their wags and tatters ? Biggs. Ah I Cad. I don't mind a sJiain battle on the pa wade gwound, don't you know, because there is always a cwowd of ladies awound, don't you know, and a fellah can go home and take a bath when it is ovah, and have his valet bwush him up. {Crosses r.) Biggs (l.). Yah ! I'm getting sick ! {Enter Segura, r. u. e.) Seg. Good-morning, lieutenant. Good-morning, judge. Why, Santa Maria ! You look as if you had taken something dis- agreeable. Biggs. So I have : a dose of American — yah — " aristocracy ! " Seg. {o/ancmg at Cau.). I understand. It is a regular blue pill ! Cad. I say, Mr. Segura, about these blawsted Indians ; do you think there is weally any — aw — that is — you see — Seg. Danger ? For you ? None whatever. The Indian is a peculiar animal ; he never harms people who are no?i compos ine7itis. Biggs. Then he is safe. Cad. Thanks awfully. {Aside.) Now, what the dooce is Jiofi compos mentis ? Blawst his Spanish lingo I Seg. I should imagine, lieutenant, being a military man, that you would delight in a campaign. Cad. Ya-as — I suppose it is more exciting than lawn tennis. But, then, one is likely to get so fwightfully soiled and dirty — and the guns make such a wacket — and you have to dwinkout of nasty tin cups, and all that, don't you know. This, of cawse, to one of the awistocwacy — Seg. Aristocracy ? Cad. Ya-as. Seg. By the way, what is an American aristocrat ? Cad. The dooce ! Why, any ignowamus could answer that. Seg. I am all attention. Proceed. Cad. It's a fellah of — of the uppah clawss — who has —^ aw — plenty of money — belongs to the clubs — has a valet to look aft ah hi in and dwess him — who dwinks plain soda — aw — and nevah associates with common people; who — who — gets his clothes from London, and — aw — Seg. Whose grandfather ran a gin mill, sold furs, or raised cabbages ! And who. therefore, looks down with sublime contempt on all honest labor ; who is too weak to argue, too cowardly to resist, and too contemptible to kick ! {Ci'osses l.) Cad. Look heah. Now — I — 1 — Biggs. 'Sh I Be careful — 22 RIO GRANDE. Cad. But I cawn't stand that, and I won't. I'll — Biggs. Dry up ! Unless you want to be an angel ! Cad. Eh ? Biggs. That man can snuflfa candle at twenty paces, and he is the devil himself with a knife. Cat>. {f?'ightenea). The dooce ! Say — {T/uy converse aside.) {Enter Lawton, r. u. e.) Law. Seiior Segura — a word, please. Seg. With pleasure. {Goes iip.') Cad. I wonder if I should offah to tweat him to a cigawette — Biggs. Then he'd kill you anyhow — vivisect you — skin you alive. Come along ! {Exit, with Cad. r. i e.) Seg. So you think the outbreak will be serious ? Law. I fear so. Seg. And you intend to crush them out this time ? Law. I certainly do — provided they make a stand of it, and — Seg. And the "old women" at Washington don't interfere. Law. Exactly. Seg. Very well. I will order out a force of cavalry on our side of the river, to cut off retreat ; and, if you choose, I will instruct my men to co-operate with you, — or perhaps will lead them in person. Law. a thousand thanks, senor. Seg. You are quite welcome, colonel. {Efiter Casey, r. u. e. Salutes Lawton.) Law. What is it ? Cas. {sahiting). The scouts are in, sor, an' waitin' to report, sor. Law. I will see them directly. (Casey salutes and exits, r. u. e.) Will you join me, senor ? Seg. In a few moments. I must despatch a courier with orders. Law. Very well. {Aside.) He's a very decent fellow after all. {Exit R. u. E.) Seg. He is a bigger fool than I thought. Oh, yes — yes. My men will co-operate with him ! Precisely. {Lights cigar.) Just as tUe Prussians did with Napoleon in Russia. Allies are never reliable, and I shall be surprised if my men fail to do some very — careless — shooting If this cursed Wybert is killed — well and good ; it will save me the trouble. If he escapes — so much the worse — for him. {Enter Retta, r. u. e.) Ret. Uncle ! Seg. Well, my dear ? {Seated l.) Ret. Are you doing nothing ? Seg. I am doing something. RIO GRANDE. 2$ Ret. {impatiently^. Well, what? Seg. {coolly'). Smoking. Ret. You have lost heart. You mean to spare them. Seg. Indeed '^. You surprise me. Ret. Do I 1 And you surprise me — you, whose path no one has ever crossed in safety ; whom the natives call " the lightning " be- cause of your deadly skill — and before whom the fiercest bandit slinks and crawls with fear. Seg. {removing hat). My dear Retta — you flatter me ! Ret. Yes ? Then does it flatter you to say that I am disgusted with your indifference — that I really believe you dare not — Seg. Stop where you are. /dare not.'* What do you mean ? Ret. You seem so quiet that I — I — Seg. {rising). My dear, did you ever observe a storm coming out from the West ? Have you watched the gray clouds rising slowly to the zenith, while the air grew h.eavy, and Nature's voice was hushed in fear ? Have you th.ought that amid that strange and awful silence the deadly thunderbolts were being forged? And when at last the fierce lightning sprang forth, was it not all the more terrible for the long silence 1 Answer me. Ret. Yes. Seg. Good. I have stored trie lightning. . Ret. Well? Seg. And it will strike — Ret. {eagerly). Yes — Seg. When I see fit. {As Retta turns away.) Here — sign this paper. {Takes paper from pocket.) Ret. What is it ? Seg. Your — marriage — certificate ! Ret. {hesitating, in doubt). My — marriage — certificate ? Seg. You heard me. That paper certifies to your marriage with Paul Wybert. Ret. But I am not — this paper is a — a — Seg. Forgery? It is quite possible. My skill with the pen is something remarkable. Ret. This is madness ! We shall be exposed. Seg. My dear child, I am not quite a fool ! Observe me. The priest is dead whose excellent name I have — well — borrowed for this occasion. The witnesses are my creatures who would swear away their souls' salvation to spite an American. Ret. If they sliould not — Seg. Then I would cut their throats. Ret. But the marriage register ? Seg. Will quietly disappear. Ret. Your plan is fiendish. Seg. As I intended. Ret. I'll not do it. Seg. What ? Be careful, now ! Ret. I cannot — I cannot ! 24 RIO GRANDE. Seg. Very well. Then your lovely rival wins him. She will flaunt her victory before your eyes, while people will utter covert sneers, and openly point to you as the cast-ofF toy of the Amer- ican Ret. Uncle ! You torture me. {Crosses u.) Seg. Look yonder ! {Pointing i..) There they go. See how she smiles on him — and how happy he is. Now they look this way. See — they are laughing at you. Isn't it delightful.? Ali, Seiiora. How you niiist enjoy it ! Ret. Give me the paper — quick — give it me! Where shall I sign ? Seg. There — under his name. Ret. Yes — I can see her wither and shrink before this. I can see her proud head droop, and the haughty light fade from her eyes. Ah, I coidd cry for joy — I am so happy ! Wait for me. I will return in a moment. {Exit R. u. e.) Seg. How easy it is to make a fool of her. A passionate woman is the most unaccountable creature on earth, for she loves or hates without rhyme or reason. Touch her heart and she will blow hot or cold — kill or caress — all in a single breath. {Enter Retta, quickly, R. u. e.) Ret. I have signed tlie paper. Seg. 'Sh ! Don't tell all creation. Ret. Do you want it.'* Seg. Yes. {Takes paper.) Say nothing of this. Ret. I am on fire with impatience. Seg. No doubt of it. Ret. I want to see her fall at my feet, crushed and broken ; to see her weep her heart out in bitter agony as I have done. I can- not wait for the time. Do hurry ! {Crosses l.) Seg. My dear, your true epicure does not bolt his food nor pour down his imperial Tokay ; and only a fool kills an enemy quickly, if he can place the soul itself upon the rack. Ret. Oh, what a splendid hater ! Seg. For I study it. Hating is an art which sliould never be governed by passion. Yesterday 1 only disliked i\\\s Capt. Wybert, and would have killed him with pleasure ; to-day I cordially hate him, and would not harm his precious body for the world. Ret. What v.-ould you do ? Seg. Ruin him — disgrace him — scourge him from the sight of honest men; make his life a waking nightmare — an inferno — surpassing even Dante's wildest dream. Ret. But his " dear Sophia " — what of her ? Seg. That is your part in our little drama. You must arouse her jealousy — set them to quarrelling — and thus stir up the devil all around. When you meet Wybert you must act submissive — chastened; thus you disarm suspicion and gain his confidence. RIO GRANDE. 2$ Then awaken pity by your tears and self-reproaches. Tell him you are unworthy — Ret. Uncle ! Seg. It is a lie, of course; but all is fair in love and war. Besides, it will be an amusing turnabout, for man has lied to woman since the dawn of history. (^Exit R. i e.) Ret. Not worthy of him ? No — and can never be, Paul is noble, grand, honorable — while I am a base, sinful girl. Can I sink so low that I may chide myself thus .'' No ! I will not ! {Goes up c.) I will have no share in such a monstrous crime. I will — {looks L.) oh — there they are ! He is bidding her good-by — his arm is around her — their lips meet — I — I — O God, my heart is breaking! {Sinks into seat, r., sobbing; a patise ; then looks up with fierce, sndden joyi) He said I must act submissive, chastened. Yes ! And thus divert suspicion ! I can ! I will ! He shall applaud me as an actress ! Yes ! {goes iipi) Here comes Paul — my audience! Ah, how I hate him — how I hate him! {Sits R.) {Enter Paul, l. u. e.) Paul. The government ought to be — blessed. Thanks to the old grannies at Washington we are called upon to feed the cursed Indians ail winter and fight them all summer. I rather enjoy a row myself, but just at the present moment I feel like {sees Retta) the um-m ! Ret. Paul — Capt. Wybert — I — wish to speak with you for a moment. Paul, Yes — I know ; I am very sorry, but I really have no time to spare. {Going.) Ret. Paul — Paul. Well ? R*et. Not a moment in all eternity ? Paul. What do you mean ? Ret. That you will never see me again ; that I shall annoy you no more. If I feel no shame when I confess that 1 have loved you wnth all my heart and soul, it is because I know how hopeless and unvalued that love is. Perhaps you will think me bold, un- maidenly — Paul. Why, Retta — Ret. But forgive me, Paul, and pity me. I should have known that you could never, never love one so unworthy as I — I — {sob- bing.) Paul, Unworthy ? Retta, child, don't debase yourself by such words. You make me feel like a hard, insensible brute. It is I who am unwortliy of such love as yours — I whose very life should be yours to command. If I had known — Ret. Stop ! You cannot undo the past. You are bound to another, and must not think of me until — until I am gone! Paul. But, Retta — 26 RIO GRANDE. Ret. You will not think of nie harshly when I am dead — will you, Paul ? You will sometimes let your memory linger kindly upon the poor girl, untutored in the ways of the world, who would gladly have given up her life for you, and wiiose dying breath was an orison for your happiness. Paul {jnucJi affected). Don't, Retta. Your words unman me. {Sits L.) Ret. {aside). I wonder how I am doing? {Goes up slightly and looks I..) And she is watching us! Excellent — excellent! Now for it ! {Comes down and k?ieels beside Paul.) And you, too, are going away. In this world we may never meet again. Do you forgive me ? Paul. I have nothing to forgive. Ret. Then will you promise me something? Paul. What is it ? Ret. Promise that you will tell no living soul what passed in this interview. Paul. 1 promise. Ret. And will you grant me one more favor —only one ? Paul. Gladly. Ret. Then put your arms around me, and kiss me, Paul, for the first and last time. {He does so.) Thank you. [They rise.) I am faint and weary. Please take me in. {They go r., and Retta draws his ar?n aronnd her.) {Enter Segura and Sophia, l. u. e. He restrains her.) Ret. I can trust you, then ? Paul {puzzled). Trust me ? Why, yes — certainly you can. Ret. Ah, Paul, now I can bid you good-by with resignation, for you have taken such a load from my heart. {They exit, R. i E.) Soph. You saw that ? Seg. With lasting regret. Soph. Oh, indeed ! Seg. Believe me — truly. Capt. Wybert was my guest some months ago, and pretended to conceive a great passion for my niece — whose guardian 1 am. Although I strongly opposed his suit, yet 1 considered him a man of honor. Certainly I never dreamed that he was engaged to you. This, 1 trust, will excuse my apparent ill-temper of last evening. Soph. Yes. I — I appreciate your motive. But your niece should be told — Seg. She has been. Soph. And yet — Seg. She hinted at something more than a mere engagement. Soph. Something more ? Can it be possible that — Seg. My niece is an honest girl. Miss Lawton, however head- strong and wilful. Soph. Then it is I whom that profligate would have duped! Oh, the shame, the humiliation, of this moment ! RIO GRANDE. 2/ Seg. Poor child ! I pity you. Soph. Senor Segura, yesterday you professed regard for me. Seg. Yes — Soph. To-day, if you can take me as I am, with a heart of ashes, shamed, degraded, in my own eyes — then — I am yours. Seg. {embracing her). Mine, at last ! {Enter Paul, qjcickly, R. u. E.) Paul. Sophia ! Seg. Well, sir, what is it ? Paul {hotly). Unhand that lady ! Seg. {sneerimy). How very melodramatic ! Paul. By Heaven, I'll — '^KG. {facing him with folded arms). Will you ? Soph. Seiior — please — leave me for a moment. Seg. Your servant. {Kisses her hand., and exits, L. u. E.) Soph. Well, sir } Paul. Tell me what this means. Soph. Do you wish to know '^ Then look into your own false heart for the answer. Paul. Are you mad ? Soph. Yes ; mad with rage at your duplicity. Paul. Afy duplicity ? Well — Til be hanged ! Soph. No doubt of it. Paul. My duplicity! Mine? And perhaps yo7C will ex- plain — Soph. Yes, when j^?^ explain the meaning of the scene which I have witnessed. Paul. Oh, that! Why, you see — {Aside.) Devil take the luck ! I promised to say nothing. You — er — you see — Soph. Precisely ; I did see, — to your shame be it said. Paul. But, my dear — Soph. That will do. Don't add another falsehood to your infamy. Paul. Sophia! You will regret this. Soph. No. I can only regret the day when first I met you. {Crosses R. Paul^^^j np c. " Bngles sound off L. u. e.) Paul. What you saw bears no disgrace to me. / cannot, in honor, explain ; but, will /^;^ not.'' {A pause.) Very well then. Tlie assembly is called. My command is waiting. I shall soon ,^>) out to battle, and if I never return — O Sophia, tell me — shall we part like this ? I will forget what I witnessed ; I will believe nothing ill of you. Can you not return faith for faith ? Soph. Tell me what you were saying. Paul. I can tell you nothing. Soph. Then go ! {Sits w.) ' Paul So be it. {Martial 7/iusic sounds faintly, L. u. k.) I had thought of this campaign with pride, if not with joy ; for it promised me new honors and higher rank, which should all be 28 RIO GRANDE. yours. Now, I think of nothing but the death I court; for I know that if my Hfe goes out it will cause you neither pain nor sorrow. Farewell, then, Sophia. Farewell. God bless you. {^Exit quickly^ l. u. e. Mtisic dies away. Brief pause.) Soph, {startled). Paul! {Rising.) Paul! {U^p L.) Gone! Gone ! Oh, my heart ! {Sobs.) {Enter Lawton, r. u. e.) Law. {briskly). Well, my dear, we're off. Soph, {embracing him). Father I Law. There, there. It may be nothing but a skirmish, and perhaps they won't even show fight. Soph. Then why go at all .^ Law. Come, come, my dear! Remember, you are a soldier's* daughter. Remember, too, that if anything happens to me, there is a Father above {cap off — solemnly) whose loving eye will watch over you by day and by night; whose loving hand will guide and protect you forever. {Mnsic as before.) There, the boys are waiting for me. Good-by, my dear child. {Kisses her.) Good-by. {Exit, l. u. e.) Soph, {brokenly). Good-by. {Follows to L. u. e. Stands looking off". Music fainter.) {Enter Mr. and Mrs. Biggs, r. u. e.) Biggs. Mrs. Biggs, your remarks, as usual, are highly edify- ing ; nevertheless, however, I am under the necessity of saying an revoir. Mrs. B. Have you got that dreadful what-do-you-call-it again ? Biggs. No, my dear; '' aji revoir'' \s not the toothache. It means, in simple English, farewell for the present particular time being until another day's bright sunshine gilds the knell of parting day, and all that sort of thing ; you understand ? Mrs. B. Yes ; but what ai'e you talking about ? Biggs. Well, Mrs. Biggs, the regiment is going off hunting Indians — Mrs. B. And you are gug-gug-going, too, Jeremiah ? Biggs. Such is my present, duly considered, unchangeable resolution. Mrs. B. Don't go and leave me a widow, Jeremiah. {Embra- cing him.) Say you won't, you darling old Jerry. {He shakes his head.) You precious old fool ! Biggs. Eh ! What ! Damme ! I'll fine you for contempt of court ! Mrs. B. Fine your great-grandmother's fourth cousin ! Biggs. 'Sh-sh ! Keep mum ! I'm going out with Lieut. Cad- walladcr. He has paid me to conduct liim to a safe point of ob- servation. We won't fjet within ten miles of an Indian. Do you observe that no flies cling to my person 1 {They join Sophia.) RIO GRANDE. 29 {Enter Johnnie, dragging in Cadwallader, r. u. e.) John. Come on, Cad. We'll do 'em ! We'll do 'em ! Hooray! We'll do 'em! Whoop! I'm the whirling blizzard of the wild and woolly — blood in me e'ye, whatter ye soy — say, got yer gun ? Cad. Ya-as. {Takes tiny pistol frotn vest pocket?) John. O mamma ! Look at the rifled cannon ! Look at it ! Say, if you shoot a man with that thing you want to break for cover. Cad. Aw — why ? John. 'Cause if he found it out he'd whale the stuffing out of you! Sizz — boom — ah-h ! (Exit, l. i e.) Biggs (down c). Come, lieutenant. Cad. (hesitatifig). You're quite, ^7///*?, quite sure that we — aw — wun no wisk 1 Biggs. No risk whatever. Cad. (lights cigarette). Aw, thanks. Biggs. ' Those cussed cigarettes would protect you anyhow. {S7iiffingi) Indians can't stand everything. (Exit with Cad- wallader, l. I E.) {Enter Mamie, r. u. b.., followed by Segura rt;/^ Retta.) Mam. Oh, dear, oh, dear, oh, dear ! They're both going away to get killed ! Mrs. B. (down c). So is Jeremiah ! Mam. And they'll get shot all full of great big ho-ho-holes I Mrs. B. And the Indians will cut off their h-h-heads ! Mam. And I'll bet they'll get killed ! Mrs. B. I'm shoo-shoo-shoo-sure of it ! Mam. But I won't cry. Mrs. B. Me neither. Both. Boo-hoo-hoo ! (Einbracingi) Mrs. B. Don't c-c-cry, dear, . Mam. I ain't going to ! Mrs. B. Me neither ! Both {as before). Boo-hoo-hoo! (They embrace and go tip c.) Soph. (l.). Mamie. Mam. (l.). Yes, dear. Seg. (down R. to Retta). What do you think of my scheme ? Ret. It is magnificent — and yet — '^'E.G. (impatiently). And yet .? And what? (Music louder.) Ret. Nothing. (Music — brisk maj-ch.) Mrs. B. (at back). Look ! There they go ! Mam. (clapping hands). There's the colonel! Hooray! ( Waves handkerchief.) Ret. And there is Paul I 30 RIO GRANDE. Soph. (l. c). Paul ! Paul ! Come — come back ! Ah ! {Drops fainting, L. c.) Seg. {to Retta). See ! Your revenge has begun ! (Music swells.) Curtain. ACT III. Scene. — Same as first act, except that curtains are draw7i and a lighted lamp is on table. Lights partly doivn. Landscape as seen through windows at first shows moonlight effects which * grow fainter and gradually change to siinliglit. This act begins before dawn of the third day. Discover Retta at window., L. Mrs. Biggs is in arm-chair up k., while Mamie sits at her feet pillowing her head in her lap. Both are asleep. Soft and plaintive music at rise of curtain. Ret. {dropping curtain and turning away). Oh, the long and weary night ! Will it never end 1 And when the gray dawn comes, what news will it bring — victory or defeat, life or death .? They are asleep. {Looks off L. u. e.) And she, too, is sleeping at last, worn out with weary watching. {Down l.) But I cannot rest, nor sleep. {Sits l., front.) I so longed, so prayed for revenge ; but now that I have gained it through the dreadful wrong I did her and him, how poor and weak it is, and how wretched it has made me ! They say that revenge is sweet. It is a lie, for revenge is bitter as wormwood. {/Rising.) I can not, I will not endure it. I will awaken her and tell her everything. {Goes up L.) But no. {Pausing) He may have fallen, and then her pity for me will turn to loathing. O Mother in heaven, what shall I do, what shall I do ? {Sinks into chair near %vindow, over- come with emotion^ • Mam. {waking). Ah-h ! {VawJis.) Oh, dear ! Ouch! I've broken my neck. Mrs. Bi — {yawns) iggs ! Mrs. Biggs, wake up ! Mrs. B. Heh ? A-oh, I wasn't asleep. ( Yawns!) Mam. Neither was {ya^vns) I — much. Mrs. B. It must be near morning. Mam. {looking at watch). Yes, it's four o'clock. Mrs. B. Poor Mr. Biggs ! I know he's killed. Mam. Yes, and poor Lieut. Cadwallader, I know he's scared to death. Mrs. B. I shall be a poor, lone widow. {Crying^ Mam. I won't even have that consolation, and I look just divine in black. Mrs. B. Think of poor Mr. Biggs sleeping there on the cold ground without his nightcap. Mam. And think of the poor lieutenant, out there fighting Indians and getting killed, without a chance to comb his hair or even put on a clean collar. RIO GRANDE. 3 I Mrs. B. It must be growing light. Come out on the veranda and see if any one is stirring. Those pt^sky Indians ! I wish they were all dead. Mam. They might be, if we had only sent them enough rum and missionaries. (^E.tit with Mrs. B., c. d.) Retta {rising and looking t/irough window). The dawn is breaking. A faint, rosy glow lights up the distant mountains, but the earth looks dark and ghostly under the waning moonbeams. {Drops air tain.) And my soul is dark — dark as the heavy mid- night. Look where I may, I can see no ray of light, no gleam of hope. {Down c.) Where shall I go ? what can I do ? A few hours ago I was as happy as the merry bird that sings beside my window ; and now I am miserable as a spirit of darkness, shut out forever from light and joy and peace. {Seated., r.) Ah {sliivers), what is the matter ? What is it .'' I am. cold — cold — as if an icy blast of winter was sweeping through the room. Oh ! {Rising.^ My heart feels like lead. I am numb, choking — ah ! {Faints., dropping into chair, r.) {Enter Sophia, l. u. e.) Soph, {riinning to Retta), Retta {kneeling beside her) ! Retta! Retta! Oh! is she dead? Retta! What shall I do.? {Raises her head.) Speak to me, dear ! can't you ? Ret. {dazed). What is the matter.? Soph. You were over-excited, nervous, frightened — as we all are at this time. Ret. And I fainted ? Soph. Yes, dear. Ret. How thoughtless of me I Soph. Thoughtless ? Ret. Yes — and selfish ; for I disturbed your rest. Soph. Poor dear ! what a good, kind heart you have ! Ret. I .? Oh, don't — Soph. And I have really been cruel enough to think ill of you. Forgive me, dear. Ret. Forgive you ? Nay, it is I who should ask forgiveness. It is I who should kneel at your feet and humbly beg for mercy. Soph. Retta! Ret. Scorn me, hate me if you will, pity me if you can ; but don't be kind to me. No, no, no; it makes me hate myself. Soph. Poor child! You have nothing to regret. You could not know that he was playing me false ; and even if you had known of it, the blame was not your own. Ret. {aside). She finds ready words to excuse me. But what would she say if — dare I, dare I tell her? If you knew — Soph. I do know that you have been sadly, shamefully wronged. (Retta weeps.) But don't feel so badly. There will yet be sun- shine and joy for you. He cannot be entirely heartless. And when they return — 32 RIO GRANDE. Ret. Perhaps they never will return. Soph. Oh, yes ; they will. My father is an experienced officer, and he said it might be only a brief skirmish. Besides, your — your — Ret. Uncle ? Don't speak of him? I am almost wicked enough to hope that I may never see hi))i again. Soph, {aside). I don't think that would be anything very wicked. {Enter Mrs. Biggs rt://^' Mamie, c. d.) Mrs. B. Oh-h ! Some one is coming. Soph. Who is it 1 Mrs. B. I don't know; a man, or — a — something. Mam. I'm just dead sure it's something. (Retta and Sophia go np L.) Mrs. B. D-d-don't be frightened. My\M. I'm n-n-not — are y-y-you .'' Mrs. B. Not a bit. I — o-o-ch ! {Rims R.) Mam. Oh-h ! {Runs l.) {Eiiter Cadwallader, c. d., witltont hat, clothing to7-?i, eye blackened, face scratched, and generally used up.) Mam. There ! It's the lieutenant. I knew they'd kill him. Cad. {dropping into chair). Ya-as — we're all killed. Mam. Are you dead '^. Mrs. B. Are you hurt? Ret. Where is Paul ? Soph. Where is father ? Mam. Where is Johnnie ? Mrs. B. Where is Jeremiah .? All. Where are they ? Cad, Ya-as — I suppose so. Mam. How many did you kill ? Cad. How many what .^ All. Indians! Cad. Blawst the Indians ! I haven't seen any. {General disgust.) Ret. Then what is the matter with you ? Cad, Mattah } Dooce it all, I'm a week — a total week. Mam. You look it. Cad. Ya-as ; I look weal dweadful, don't I } Mrs. B. You wretch ! What have you done with my Jeremiah "? Cad. And what has youah Jewemiah done with me ? Led me astway, wuined me complexion, spoiled me clothes ! D-d-damn youah Jewemiah ! {Exit Mrs. Biggs, indignantly, c. d.) Mam. Tell us all about it, that's a dear. (Sophia and Retta go up l. and exit, L. u, e.) Cad. I cawn't wemembah much, don't you know. Mam. {impatiently). Well, well ! RIO GRANDE. 33 Cad. Ya-as. We followed the men foh a time, at a distance — Mam. Of course ; go on ! Cad. We did. It was awfully hot, and the men got way ahead of us, and by and by we heard some shooting, and a gwate, big wabbit spwang up in the path and fwightened the ponies, and his wan that way and mine wan this way — Mam. Toward the fort ? Cad. Ya-as. Then I lost command of the bwute, and I also lost me hat and me eyeglasses and me walking-stick, and — and me cigawettes ! Wasn't it shocking ? Mam. Paralyzing. And then — keep it up — and tlien ? Cad. The next thing I knew me feet got out of the stirrups, and I had to hang on awound the pony's neck. Then suddenly he stopped. Mam. Well— goon. Cad. {dolefully). I did. Mam. You did .^ Cad. Ya-as. Look at me. {Rising and turning around.) Mam. Then what } Cad. Nothing, foh I landed on me head. Mam. That was lucky. • Cad. I beg to difTah. It disturbed me bwains, which is some- thing I ne7>ah do meself ; besides that, I had to walk back, and I lost me way, and I know I shall be a week all me life. Mam. Oh, no, you won't. With a few more such adventures, you will develop into a thoroughbred cow — er — Cad. Aw — Mam. — boy ; cowboy. Cab. {half rising). Oh! Mam. What's the matter? Cad. {seated). A — a cwick in the back. Mam. Here —take a bracer. {Pours liquor from flask.) Cad. What is it .? Mam. Hardware — dynamite — earthquake — whiskey. Cad. Is it stwong ? lAlAM. You tell. Cad. It's got a bad look {smells), and it smells awfully dead. Mam. Never mind ; shut your eyes and let her go. Now — all ready — one — two — Cad. Say, if anything happens, send me home on ice. {Drinks.) Ah, I don't wondah they kill people out in this country. {Attempts to rise.) Oh, my ! Blawst it ! Mam. Let me help you. Cad. Thanks awfully. {She helps him to his feet.) Mam. Steady now. Brace up. Lean on me. Cad. Thanks aw — oh ! awfully. If you'd only let me lean on you through life. ^A^i. {aside). Oh, my lord ! Whew! Cad. I mean it — 'pon honah^ I do. 34 RIO GRANDE. Mam. Stuff! You don't care a row of pins for me. Cad, Aw — but I do. I love you evah and evah and evah so much. If you'll only agwee, Til do anything you say. Mam. Ah ! Will you talk United States ? Cad. Ya-as. Mam. Then say "j^i-." Cad. Yes. Mam. Will you dress like an American ? Cad. Ya — yes. Mam. Will you throw away your fool walking-stick, single- barrel eyeglass, and cigarettes .'* Cad.' Aw — well — I — Mam. Well, what 1 Cad. Well, ya — yes. Mam. And you'll try to think now and then ? Cad. It's no use. I see you won't have me. I cawnH think. I wasn't built that way. Mam. No matter. I'll think for you. Cad. Thanks ! Thanks awfully. Then you'll have me .'' Mam. Ya-as ! Cad.* Eureka ! I don't know who he was, but {embracing her) it's something awfully jolly. {Efiter Biggs, c. d. Like Cadwallader, he is much the worse for wear?) Biggs. So — you've got back, have you ? Cad. No, I haven't ; have you ? Biggs. Don't you be impudent, sir ! Mam. (/^ Cad.). Go it! I'll back you ! Cad. Thanks — aw — give me some more of that earthquake. {Drinks.) Biggs. What did you run off and leave me for, you cowardly snob .'* Cad. You — ah — {Drinks.) Mam. {nudging him). That's right. Sail in ! Cad. And what did yon wun — run — off and leave me for, you antiquated old — old — devil ? Ma " ■ - Go it Biggs. Antiquated, sir ! Antiquated! I'll — I'll — burr! Cad. So'll I burr-r-r ! {Excited business. Cadwallader drinks.) {Enter Mrs. Biggs, c. d.) Mrs. B. {embracing Biggs). O Mr. Biggs! O Jeremiah! And you are really, really, truly, really not dead ? Biggs. No ; but there will be a really, truly dead dude here (Cad. drinks) in just about an infinitesimal fraction of time, if you will only get out of the way ! RIO GRANDE. 35 Mrs. B. {clinging to iiiin'). No, no, Jeremiiih. Cad. That's wight. Cling to Jewemiah, unless you want me to spaltah him all ovah this woom. Biggs, {struggling^. Let me get at him for a moment — a single moment ! Cad. {to Mamie). D-d-do you suppose she will 'i Mam. Never. You're safe. Roast him ! Cad. Why don't you come on — you old Egyptian obelisk ? (.Drinks.) You ossified mummy ! Come on — ic — you cowardly old conundrum ! Biggs. Mrs. Biggs, I command you ! Mrs. B. {standing aside). Well, then, if you're bound to fight - Mam. All ready for the first round ! (/'//^//^'j- Cadwallader toward Biggs, who reti'eats.) Biggs. I — ahem! On due consideration, and mature reflec- tion, the immediate presence of the gentler sex induces me to allow you to remain in statu quoiox the present time being. But beware, sir! beware of the aftermath. You have aroused the sleeping lion, and his roar will reverberate to the uttermost heights of the tower- ing Magdalena Mountains. Cad. {half aside). Ya-as. You can hear a jackass a long way — ic — way. Biggs. I scorn to bandy words with you, sir. Come, Mrs. Biggs. Let us hence to our own domicile. In due time, sir, you may expect to find your disjecta membra scattered all over New Mexico, and to be fined fifty thousand dollars for contempt of court. {At c. d.) In the language of the poet — (Mrs. Biggs pulls his arm) damn it, let me alone ! {Exit with Mrs. Biggs c. d.) Cad. {slightly tipsy). Well? How'm I doing? Firs' — ic — rate ? Mam. You're a holy terror ! Cad. Bet — yer — life. Dander's up. No more dud f me ; ic — bad man ! Mam. Correct. Now go to your room and sober up. Cad. All ri', all ri'. Didn' I do Mm ? Bad — ic — bad man ! Blood 'n m' eye ! Wah ! Oop ! {Exit, R. u. e.) Mam. It's a modern miracle. A dude turned into a man. I believe that he will be really plucky when he gets his blood up. {Enter Johnnie, quickly, c. d.) John. Blood! Who wants blood? Trot him out ! Fm right in the business, I am. Yah! Fm the wild-eyed avenger! the unterrified scourge of the plains ! You hear me scream ? Mam. Jonathan Bangs ! John. Correct. That's me — right side up with care, and hungry as a tramp. Oh, I tell you that was a gorgeous battle. Ping ! Bang ! Puff! And over they went ! 36 RIO GRANDE. Mam. Put up that horrid gun. It might go off. John. It has, no end of times, and it did fearful execution. {^Enter Segura, c. d.) Mam. Yes — shot some more cows perhaps. Seg. Only a mule or two. Miss Bangs. The colonel stopped him before he did any serious damage. Mam. {laughing). O Johnnie ! John. Well, I shot at one Injun anyhow. Seg. So I observed. But, as he was a mile away, he was not badly injured. Mam. Then there was no battle ? Seg. Only a trifling skirmish. John. That was all. We did 'em just too easy — we did! {Exit, K. u. e.) Mam. No battle ! The idea ! So we had our long fright all for nothing. Where are the soldiers ? Seg. They will soon be here. Mam. I'll tell Sophia; but I think it's a real awful shame that you didn't get killed — at least a little bit — so now ! {Exit, L. u. E.) Seg. The devil you do! She is a pleasant creature — if anything a little too pleasant. Um ! I expect a breeze when Wybert returns. Curse the young cub I I hope he won't oblige me to kill him — at least at present. {Enter Sophia and Retta, l. u. e.) Ret. {down c). Uncle ! Seg. Good-morning, my dear. I hope you have slept well. Ret. Do you, indeed? Seg. And why not ? You surely had nothing to fear for me, and {meaningly) "you certainly cared nothing for the fate of any one else. Ret. But I — Seg. Yes, I see ; you have been assuming pity for her ; that is right. You are doing nobly. (Retta goes R. Sophia comes down.) Miss Sophia — your devoted. Soph. My father — Sf.G. Will soon be here. ^ Ret. And is — is — Seg. Is he wounded ? Not in the least. Ret. And is — Seg. Is there any limit to your questions ? I dare say not. {Aside to Retta.) Hold your tongue. He is safe enough, curse him ! I will not have you awaken her interest by any of your stupid questions. (Sophia draws cnrtains, ad})iitting early snn- ligJit J puts 07 tt lamp ; lights all up.) Ret. But she must be anxious. Seg. She better not. RIO GRANDE. 5/ Ret. And why ? Seg. Because she is my promised wife — Ret. Y^oier promised wife ? Seg. And shall harbor no thoughts of him. Ret. Your — promised — wife! Seg. Yes, and yes again ; and still yes and yes. My plan is working grandly. When Wybert arrives, you must welcome him with the utmost affection. Be as loving as you please. He will not repulse you, and she will not interfere. Ret. What have you done with that forged paper 1 Seg. Forged paper ? Ret. Yes ; the — the one I signed. Seg. Ah ! you mean your marriage certificate. Ret. Yes — that shameful — Seg. Of course ; he is a shameful fellow. But I shall expose him. Ret. Expose kifn ? Uncle, let us have an understanding. You are — Seg. Exactly. I am — managing this affair {graspijiq her arm), and be careful that you make no mistake in your work ; for if you do {yneaningly) , it will be a very expensive mistake lor you, my dear. Ret. {aside). Demon that he is ! What new villany is he planning? {Goes up r. arid exits, R. u. e.) Seg. (l.). Daylight at last ! Ah, my dear Sophia, how pleas- ant the sunshine is after a long and dreary night. And yet, to me, the past night has been a joyous, happy dream. Soph. To me it has been a terrible realit}-. Seg. The anxiety you felt — regarding your father — was natu- ral, of course. Soph. If that were all — Seg. Then I, too, have had a place in your thoughts? I thank you truly, for you have lifted an oppressive doubt from my mind. Soph. A doubt ? Seg. Yes ; for I had thought — you will pardon me, I am sure — that you had, possibly, accepted me in a moment of pique ; and that — pardon me again — you might be weak enough to hold a lingering regard for the — ah — person — who had so brutally trifled with your affections. Soph. Sefior ! Seg. I see that I was wrong. Forgive me. I should have known that such a thought was unjust to a girl like you. My poor niece would grovel at his feet ; but you — ah, your splendid American spirit will not submit to insult. You cannot forget that he has made your heart his plaything ; that the honeyed words whispered in your ear were but the echo of words spoken to others ; that his self-conceit rejoiced at the thought of adding you to the number of his abject worshippers ; and that — Soph. No more— no more ; I cannot bear it. 38 RIO GRANDE. Seg. Then you do not regret your promise to me ? Soph. I regret nothing, except that I ever saw him. {Music : lively niarch^ off h. u. E. Low at firsts then louder. Sophia crosses l.) Seg. {aside). Jealousy raises the devil, especially with women. {Aloud.) The regiment has returned. And now, my dear Sophia, may I tell your father of my happiness, and ask his consent to out- marriage ? Soph, {quickly). No — please — not yet. Give me a little timt Seg. But think how anxious I am ; and besides, he ouglit to know. Soph. Yes — he shall — but give me a little time, for I — I — {Enter Retta, c. B.fro?n r.) Ret. O Sophia! Here comes your father! (Sophia starts up.) And Paul too ! Soph. Oh! {Cojues down and sits i..) Seg. {aside). There ! one of them waiting to fly to him, and the other waiting to fly at him. O woman, woman, woman ! What a precious fool you are ! {Exit, R. u. e.) {Enter Lawton and Paul, c. d.) Law. Sophia, my child ! ^C)V}\. {embracing hi)n). Father! Law. Bless my soul ! What is the matter? Soph. Nothing, only — I — I am so glad you have returned. Law. Yes, safe and sound. But there ! Paul is waiting. {Goes L.) Soph, {glancing at Retta). And so is some one else. Paul. Indeed ? {Looks at Retta, who is timidly regarding him. Then, indignant at Sophia, comes down and takes Retta's hand.) You, at least, will welcome me back. You are glad to see me, are you not ? Ret. Yes, I am glad to see you. {They go R.) Law. {looking around). Heiio ! Well, of all things ! What does that mean 1 Soph. Let him answer. {Crosses \.) Law. (c). Why — I — look here — the Devil ! {Aside.) No, sir! The poet is all VvTong. (/// c. d.) The " proper study of mankind" is — woman. And the more you learn of her, the less you really know. {Exit, c. d.) Paul. So, you see, the outbreak really amounted to nothing. But there, I must leave you now. Ret. Wait ; I have not told you. Paul. Never mind, Retta. ' You are a good, warm-hearted girl, for {signijicantly) you did not become an icicle on my return. Soph, {aside). That is for my benefit. RIO GRANDE. 39 Paul. There is no frost in your nature. You could never freeze a man's heart as some of your northern sisters dehght in doing. Soph, {indignantly^. No ; but she can burn her poor heart out for a wretch who is unworthy of her slightest thought. Paul. And that same fire may warm a frozen heart into life, and thus disappoint somebody- Soph. And if somebody's sword was as sharp as his tongue, what a soldier he would make ! Paul (^at C. d.). An excellent suggestion. That sword will receive immediate attention. {Exit, c. d.) Soph, {aside). I could fairly cry my eyes out if she were not here. Ret. Sophia — Soph. Yes, dear. Ret. I am going away. Soph. Why should you ? Ret. You will not wonder when I tell you. Since I came here I have brought only sorrow to you, to him, to myself. But before I go I must tell you of the dreadful wrong I have done you both. Soph. Retta! Ret. Don't touch me ; don't come near me. Only listen. Yesterday my heart was filled with bitterness toward you, I was consumed with jealous rage, mad with envious spite. I hated him : I hated you both. In my eagerness for vengeance I thus endeav- ored to separate you by every art known to a desperate, wicked w^oman. That scene which you witnessed between us was innocent of all wrong on his part. Trapped into a promise he gave the kiss you saw — as I well knew — and could explain nothing without breaking his word. You have all been so good, so kind, to me, and I — oh, what a miserable wretch I am ! {Sinks into c/iair R., sobbi?ig.) Soph. {kneeii?ig beside her). Poor, wayward child ! What has my suffering been compared to yours } Ret. But mine are all deserved. O Sophia! can you ever forgive me ? Soph, {kissing her). With all my heart. Ret. And Paul — Capt. Wybert'; tell him all that I have said. Be happy — happy — and forget me. Soph. Forget you ? Ret. {returning and embracing her). No, 1 don't mean that. Forget the wrong I did, and remember me with all the pity, sor- row, and kindness possible. Good-by. Good-by. {Exit. R. u. e.) Soph, {tip c). Poor Retta! poor child. If there were only two Pauls how nice it would be ! {Looks off C. d.) There he goes! Now 1 will surprise him. {Exit, c. d. to l.) {Enter Segura and Lawton, r. u. e.) Law. Well, senor, I believe that the trouble is all over, at least for the present. 40 . RIO GRANDE. Skg. With the Indians — yes; but there seems to be a small domestic warfare raging here in the garrison. Law. Yes. Women beat the Devil. Seg. And there is where men hav€ the best of it; for they sometimes beat women. Law. I don't see what can possess my daughter. Seg. I know of some one who hopes to. Law. Yes ? Seg. Yes. And your consent, ,1 trust, will not be withheld. Law. My consent is evidently of small consequence. Parents are ciphers nowadays. I control my regiment easily, but my daughter — Seg. Easily controls you. Law. Well, 1 don't deny it. She is all I have on earth, and, bless her heart, never abuses her power. Seg. Then she will make an admirable wife. Law. No doubt ; for she and Paul are doing all their quarrel- ling before marriage. Seg. Their marriage ! Whose marriage ? Law. Sophia and Capt. Wybert's. I supposed you knew. Seg. I know that she will not marry Capt. Wybert. Law. Really.'' Seg. Really. Law. You surprise me. Seg. Doubtless 4 but I have my reasons. Law. Suppose you name them. Seg. With pleasure. First, then, your daughter is engaged to me. Law. What .' Seg. And why not ? I am well born, rich, fairly intelligent, not exactly hideous — unless my mirror lies — and, I am pleased to say, my heart, hand, and fortune have been accepted by your daughter. Law. My dear fellow, you certainly are dreaming. My daughter — Seg. Is a high-spirited girl, quick to resent an insult. Law. Insult ? What do you mean ? Seg. What I say. My proposal was opportune. When she found that she had been duped, played upon, trifled with, by the man who professed to love her, she bravely cast his contemptible image from her heart, and accepted the love of an honest man. That man is myself! Law. Duped ? My daughter 1 Wh}^ man, you must be crazy. Such talk is absolute nonsense. My daughter, I tell you, is engaged to Capt. Wybert. Seg. She was, I admit, until she discovered his real charac- ter. Law. I will hear no more. Capt. Wybert is a gentleman, and will marry my daughter. RIO GRANDE. 4I Seg. Capt. Wybert is a double-dyed scoundrel, and will tiot marry your daughter ! Law. Look here, sir, I have a mind to — Seg. You want my reason ? Law. {I'cst raining hhuself^. Yes; be brief. Seg. Briefly, then, Capt. Wybert will not marry her because he has a wife already ! Law. {passionately). Sefior Segura ! That is a lie ! {Ci'osses l.) Seg. {half draw i Jig sword). Eh! {With an effort.) You — want — proof .'^ Law. Yes — and be quick about it. Seg. Very well. Capt. Wybert was married in Mexico. His wedding was kept a profound secret. I heard of it yesterday for the first time. Law. And his wife — Seg. Is my poor, wronged, unhappy niece. Law. Retta t Seg. Yes, Retta. If you want more proof, here is her marriage certificate. Look at it ; study it ; and then tell me if I lie. Law. {examining certificate). Paul Wybert, Capt. U. S. Cav- aly, — Retta — You told the truth, sefior. I beg your pardon. Paul {outside, l.). Come dear, it's all right now. Law. The infamous scoundrel ! I'll blow his brains out! Seg. Don't ; he would never miss them. Law. But damn the fellow — Seg. That is right. Damn him all you please ; only, make an example of him. I will tell you my plan. {Draws Lawton towards R. u. e.) It will take but a moment. {Exit Lawton, R. u. E.) Now, you fools, make the most of your time I {Exit, R. u. E.) {Enter Paul and Sophia, c. d.) Soph, {shaking finger playfully). Own up, now. Aren't you ashamed of yourself .'' Paul. Ashamed? The — mischief ! What for.? Soph. Oh — everything ; making me jealous, and all that. Paul {aside). That's the woman of it. Soph. And only think, Paul, I had really promised to marry that man. Paul. A promise, so gained, binds nothing. Soph. What will he say ? Paul. Whatever he pleases. Soph. What will he do ? Paul. Travel. His health requires a change. Soph. You will not quarrel with him .? Promise me. Paul. Well— no. I won't quarrel with him j but if he quarrels with me — Soph. O Paul ! Paul. Somebody will have an impressive funeral. 42 RIO GRANDE. {Efiter Mamie and Cadwallader, c. d.) Mam. Another funeral .^ That makes two. Soph. Two ? Mam. That's what I said. Soph. Who was the other ? Mam. a dude. Caddie killed him. Didn't you, eh ? Cad. Ya-as. Mam. Eh } Cad. I mean "yes." Paul (c). You look as if you had met with an accident. Cad. (l.). Ya — yes. I have. I'm engaged to be maw — married. Soph. (r.). To you ? Mam. (r.). Cert. Soph. I congratulate you. But isn't he a — a — Mam. Not a bit of it. He's buried the dude, I tell you — sworn off on cigarettes, and is learning the American language. Soph. Wonderful ! How did it happen ? Mam. Why, you see, he wants a protector, and I have taken the contract. Cad, {to Paul). I suppose that blaw — blasted Spaniard will cut up wus — rusty — when he finds that you have cut him out. Paul. I really hope he will. {Going c.) {Enter Lawton and Segura, r. u. e.) Law. Capt. Wybert ! Paul. Sir ? Law. You will resign your commission and leave the fort within an hour ! Paul. Col. Lawton ! Law. (c). No words! When a man disgraces his uniform, he must lay it aside forever. You, whom I had looked upon as a son — who was betrothed to my daughter — whose honor I had thought above question — you of all men to be guilty of such con- temptible conduct. I believe I would do right to kill you in your tracks ! Paul. Contemptible conduct, sir ? What do you mean ? Seg. (r). He means that you have dared make love to his daughter, while your own wife was under his roof. {Sensa- tion.) Soph. His wife ! Paul. You miserable, devilish liar ! {Starts toivard Segura.) Law. Halt! (Paul j/. -15 cents. THE BOOK OF DRILLS. A ^roup of entertainments for female characters for stage or floor per formance, by Mary B. Horne, the author of " The Peak Sisters," etc. Price, WALTER a BAKER & CO,, Pilishers, 23 Winter SI, Boston, LIBRARY OF CONGRESS By the Author of "Out of ■H The GR7^Kx^«iLS^i?l'f' Or, Caught in His Own Trap. By DAVID HILL, Author of "FoK(i:i> to thk War," "Out of his Sphere," "Placer Gold," "Bound by an Oath," Etc. Eleven male and two female characters and supers; six male characters onjy heiiig important. Costumes modern and eccentric rustic. Scenery may be made elaborate or simple, according to circumstances. John Haymaker is a good character, ]iew to the stage, and full of rustic humor and shrewdness. Alvin Joslin, as played by Mr, Davis, comes nearest to it in flavor. The other char- acters are excellent, generally rustic types and those of low life in the city, where the incidents of " Tbe Granger's" second act occur. The story is original in idea, and of great humoi'ous possibilities. Just the thing for a Grange enter- tainment. Can be played Avith the simplest accessories, yet Avill amply repay care in ge'^ing up. Price ... . . 85 Cents. ACT I. Scene 1. Highway. Farming a trade. " It takes more good, sound common sense to run a farm successfully than it does a national bank. A good shot. Evolution. Isaac as an informer. Hard to hear. " Measter Haymaker, dom it ! woolye stop tliat dinging and come here." Scene 2. The lovei-s. Philopeued. The penalty two kisses. Caught in the act. " Well, young man, when you are satisfied, please give me your attention." Wager between Ilichard and Haymaker. " I will wager that you will be out- Avitted at your own game inside of a month ; and your daughter's hand shall pay the penalty if I win." "And if you lose?" "If I lose, I will never trouble you or your daughter again." The acceptance. Scene 3. Hay- maker's house. Il-ichard unfolds his plan to Mrs. Haymaker and Minnie. They j )in him in the plot to outwit Hayniaker. Off to the city. ACT II. Scene 1. City street. " The Granger." Lots of fun. Taken for a greenhorn. New kind of game. Baiting the trap. How the pickpockets were caught. " Feel at this moment jest like speakin' in meetin', don't ye?" Held in tow. Off to the " tavern." Scene 2. City bar-room. How Hay- maker fooled the crowd. Releasing the pickpockets. Parting advice. " When you pick up another Granger on the street, don't take him for a pumpkin until you have tested the rind." How the traps were worked. Tough yarns. Richard and Minnie disguised. The song. Charita^. " Yengster, jest lead the Avay tu them there books." Scene 3. Room m tenement libuse. Evolution again. The supper. The drugged coffee. Haymaker falls asleep. Richard happy. "Hurrah! we together have out- witted John Haymaker." Minnie's keepsake. Haymaker caught in his own traps. A.CT III. Scene 1. Highway. Haymaker and Gushing. " Your're an old, m<^ddlesome, wizzled, knock-kueed and dried i\p jackass." Gushing aston- islied. " Wa'all, I swovv ! I'll be blowed if I ever seed Haymaker like that afore." Sckne 2. Haymaker's house. Waiting for Haymaker. "O my! there is faUier coming now." Crest-fallen but spunky. Haymaker's explan- ation. His admiration for those who outwitted him. "If they would confess I would give th^m a thousand dollars and a position for life." Taken at his word. Richard and Minnie again in disguise. The song. Haymaker dumbfounded. " Well, it's beginnng to dawn upon me that I'm a confounded old fool." Fulfilling the contract. Haymaker's closing words. "Though I still advocate the theory of evolution, it never again shall be the principal tool to catch John Haymaker in his own trap." Walter H. Baker & Co., 23 Winter St., Boston. 3. J. PAr''HII U «. CO., PRINTERS, 222 FRANKLIN ST., BOSTON.