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K. M. CAPEK
487

Burris.—No sooner had our men seated themselves on the boulders that covered the ground, than we heard a terrible voice as if the angel Gabriel himself came down from heaven to sound ourdoom. “Duro!” shouted a voice from above us. “Stevo,” answered some one below, and before we could recover our wits, we saw our honorable guide scrambling up the side of the cliff.

(Bara comes in from the kitchen and stands listening at the door behind Burris.)

Rudolph.—Der Verrather!

Burris.—He got a bullet and lay hanging across the path. At that instant there was a rattle of musketry from above and not one seemed to miss its goal. We guarded ourselves the best we could; we could easily hide from one another as we lay flat on the ground behind the rocks, but the rebels above us found us an easy mark. They kept picking us off like birds at a shooting match.

Rudolph.—And what about a command, “Auf und forwarts, hurra?

Burris.—It was given, but in vain. The division was completely demoralized. And what good would it have done to try to advance against such a steep wall? Our Tony was lying about twenty paces from me, and suddenly he shrieks, “They’ve got me, too!” Thereupon he begins to wail like a child, then he squeals pitifully, and finally he completely collapses with an unconscious moan.

Bara (Still at door).—My poor darling!

Burris.—All at once Tony speaks once more. With a voice of the dying, he says: “Dear sir, for God’s sake I ask you—take it upon your conscience if you ever get back to Harshaw—Nancy’s child is my child.”

Bara.—Jesu Maria! This cannot be!

Burris.— “Tell my grandmother,” he says, “that anything coming to me for past services on the farm belongs to Nancy and her baby.”

Bara.—And this to his own grandmother!

Burris.—With that word Tony died. But he had time to tell me also that he wished me to beg Nancy’s forgiveness for him, and to say that if it had not been for her grandmother, things would have been different between them.

Bara.—And he had no word of farewell for his grandmother!

Lena.—Poor Bara, don’t cry.