The Project Gutenberg eBook ofThe Americans

The Project Gutenberg eBook ofThe AmericansThis ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online atwww.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook.Title: The AmericansAuthor: Edwin Davies SchoonmakerRelease date: October 30, 2012 [eBook #41242]Most recently updated: October 23, 2024Language: EnglishCredits: Produced by David Garcia, Judith Picken and the OnlineDistributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (Thisfile was produced from images generously made availableby The Kentuckiana Digital Library)*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE AMERICANS ***

This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online atwww.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook.

Title: The AmericansAuthor: Edwin Davies SchoonmakerRelease date: October 30, 2012 [eBook #41242]Most recently updated: October 23, 2024Language: EnglishCredits: Produced by David Garcia, Judith Picken and the OnlineDistributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (Thisfile was produced from images generously made availableby The Kentuckiana Digital Library)

Title: The Americans

Author: Edwin Davies Schoonmaker

Release date: October 30, 2012 [eBook #41242]Most recently updated: October 23, 2024

Language: English

Credits: Produced by David Garcia, Judith Picken and the OnlineDistributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (Thisfile was produced from images generously made availableby The Kentuckiana Digital Library)

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE AMERICANS ***

[Transcribers notes:Missing page numbers represent blank pages. Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been retained.Page147"." added ("Bishop Hardbrooke.")Page170"And" replacing "nd" ("And now a living thing.")Page198"." added ("Egerton.")Page252"Harry" replacing "arry" ("Harry Egerton.")Page259"." added ("Bishop Hardbrooke.")Page259"." added ("We have been busy.")]

Author's NotePERSONS OF THE DRAMAACT ITHE MINEACT IITHE MILLACT IIITHE MANSIONACT IVTHE LIVING MILLACT VCHRISTMAS EVE

NEW YORKMITCHELL KENNERLEY1913

PRESS OF J. J. LITTLE & IVES COMPANY, NEW YORK

To my Father and my Brother Frank

The drama here published is logically the third in a series of racial dramas, as follows:

Of this seriesThe Saxons, dealing with man's struggle for religious liberty, has already been published. For reasons that need not be given, it has been thought best to postponeThe Slavs, which will present man's battle for political liberty, and offerThe Americans, the theme of which is the industrial conflict that is now raging.The Hindoos, a drama of spiritual unfoldment, will come in its order.

J. Donald EgertonLumber king and mill-ownerAugustus JergensA partnerSam WilliamsLeader of the strikersGeneral ChadbourneIn command of the State MilitiaCaptain HaskellSecond in commandRev. Ezra HardbrookeBishop of the DioceseJohn. W. BraddockGovernor of the StateRalph ArdsleyEditor of the Foreston CourierChief of PoliceCoöperating with the MilitiaGeorge EgertonSon of Donald EgertonHarry EgertonSon of Donald EgertonHarvey AndersonFormer cowboy and Rough RiderBuck BentleyOne of the MilitiaWes DiceyA walking delegateJim KingSupporter of DiceyRome MastersSupporter of DiceyCap SaundersAn old minerBill PattenStriker, off in search of workSilas MauryStriker, off in search of workWillie MaurySon of Silas MauryMary EgertonWife of Donald EgertonGladys EgertonDaughter of Donald EgertonSylvia OrrFriend of Mrs. Egerton

A chauffeur, a butler, a doctor, a nurse, two maids, two detectives, two sentries, strikers, strike-breakers, militiamen, guests at the reception, etc.

A land is not its timber but its people,And not its Art, my father, but its men.—Harry Egerton.

Scene: On the mountains in a timber region of north-western America. In every direction, as far as the eye can see, a wilderness of stumps with piles of brush black with age and sinking from sheer rottenness into the ground. Here and there a dead pine stands up high against the horizon. In the distance, left, cleaving the range and extending on back under an horizon of cold gray clouds, is seen the line of a river of which this whole region is apparently the watershed, for everywhere the land slopes toward it. In the remote distance, beyond the river, innumerable bare buttes, and beyond these a gray stretch of plains. Down the mountains, left, six or seven miles away, the river loops in and a portion of a town is seen upon its banks. At this end of the town, upon a hill overlooking the river, a large white mansion conspicuous for the timber about it. At the farther end, a huge red saw-mill occupies the centre of a vast field of yellow lumber piles, the tall black stack of the mill clearly outlined against the gray of the land beyond.

Back, a hundred yards or so, a road, evidently constructed years ago when the logs were being taken out, comes up on the flats from the direction of the town,turns sharply to the right and goes toward the ridge. Beyond this road, just at the curve, standing out among the stumps, an old stationary engine eaten up with rust and an abandoned logging-wagon, the hind part resting upon the ground, the two heavy wheels lying upon it. Farther back a small cabin falling into decay. Here and there patches of creeping vines and rank grass cover the ground, hiding in some places to a considerable depth the bases of the stumps. But to the left, where it is evident a steep slope plunges down, and also in the foreground, are open spaces with boulders and, scattered about under a thin loam of rotted needles and black cones, the outlines of a few flat stones. In the immediate foreground, left, a huge boulder, weighing possibly four or five tons, barely hangs upon the slope, ready at any moment, one would think, to slip and plunge down.

Two men, Cap Saunders and Harvey Anderson, the latter down left, the former to the right and farther back, are slowly coming forward. Each has a camping outfit, a roll of blankets, etc., upon his back, and carries in his hands a plaster cast of what would seem to be a cross-section of a log. It is about two feet in diameter and three inches thick. As they come along they try the casts on the various stumps and carefully turn them about to see if they fit, then chip the stump with a hatchet to indicate that it has been tried.

Time: The evening of a day early in November in the present time.

Harvey Anderson.

And say two dollars profit on each log.

Cap Saunders.

That's low enough.

Harvey Anderson.

Suppose a man could walkOver the mountains with a great big sackAnd pick two silver dollars from each stump.It's forty miles to where the trees begin,And on each side the river eight or ten.Think what he'd have.

Cap Saunders.

He's made work for them, Harvey.

Harvey Anderson.

Have millions, wouldn't he?

Cap Saunders.

I suppose he would.But where would this land be? There'd be no homes.And what are forests for but to cut down?

Harvey Anderson.

You wouldn't hear him say, 'Now, Harvey, youGo in and get your sack full; I'll stay out';Or 'Now it's your turn, Cap.' Not on your life.He'd walk his legs off, but he'd have them all.Or what's more likely, he'd let others walk,And send his wagons out and get the sacksAnd have them brought in to him.

Cap Saunders.

For myselfI'd rather be out here though on the mountainsThan live in his big mansion.

Harvey Anderson.

So would I.But that don't mean I'd rather tramp the flatsPicking up dollars for some other man.And I suppose the mill-boys feel the same.

Cap Saunders.

A fellow has to do the best he can.If he can stake himself, then off, I say,And pan for his own self. That's been my way.Sometimes I've struck pay dirt and sometimes not.And then I'd go and dig for a month or twoFor the other boys until I'd got my stake——

Harvey Anderson.

Here is another like the one back there;Goes half way round as clean as anything;And the bark seems the same; but on this side——

Cap Saunders.

(Who has left his cast and is hurrying forward excitedly)

Hold her a minute!

Harvey Anderson.

No, it don't fit, Cap.The same old finger width it's always been.When the curve matches, then there's some damn knot;And when the knot's not there, it's something else.No, you can't stretch it. Now it's this side; see?'Twas best the way I had it. There you are.Might as well mark her.

Cap Saunders.

It's a close miss, sure.It's like the one I found upon the ridgeWeek before last.

Harvey Anderson.

The place where it don't matchIs always on the side that you don't seeUntil your heart's jumped up.

(Chips the stump)

That ends the day.

Cap Saunders.

I think I'll work a while.

(Starts back)

Harvey Anderson.

The sun's gone down.

Cap Saunders.

I haven't heard the whistle of the mill.

Harvey Anderson.

Nor like to.

Cap Saunders.

Ah! I keep forgetting that.When a man's heard her blow for years and yearsHe can't be always thinking that she's stopped.I wonder how the strike is getting on.

Harvey Anderson.

As everything gets on that's Egerton's.He'll cut them down as he's cut down the trees.

(Sits upon a stump and looks off up the valley, then turns and watches the old man busy with his cast)

Harvey Anderson.

Your old bones must be tired, Cap.

Cap Saunders.

How so?

Harvey Anderson.

How long have you been hunting for this thing?

Cap Saunders.

Before this search, you mean?

Harvey Anderson.

Yes.

Cap Saunders.

Off and on,Thirty or forty years.

Harvey Anderson.

And won't give up?

Cap Saunders.

Not till I'm dead.

Harvey Anderson.

You ought to have been an ox.You've got the wrong form, Cap. You think you'd beAs patient if the prize was for yourself?

Cap Saunders.

When one's been on a trail for years and yearsIt ain't the game he cares for; it's the chase.And like as not when he's brought down the buckHe'll leave the carcass lying on the rocks,Taking a piece or two, then off again.As for what's done with it, I don't care that.But I would like to know where that tree stood.

Harvey Anderson.

And you think the boys down there should be the same,The boys that saw the dollars from the logs,Sacking the silver up, be satisfiedTo have him take the silver, leaving themThe bark on either side?

Cap Saunders.

I don't say that.

Harvey Anderson.

Give me the carcass when you find it, Cap,And you can have the chase. I'd like to knowFor one time in my life just how it feelsTo have your pockets full and taste the towns.And I think the boys that saw the logs down thereAre more like me, Cap, than they are like you.

(Picks up his cast and comes forward)

Cap Saunders.

Egerton ain't a-holdin' them. They can goIf they ain't satisfied.

Harvey Anderson.

Yes, they can go.They're like the red men, they can always go.

(In an open space in the foreground he puts his things down upon the ground. He goes right to a pile of brush, pulls out a black limb, and proceeds to break it across his knee, throwing the pieces in a little heap upon the ground)

They've got a Mayor down there, I suppose.What if he said, 'If you don't like my way,If you ain't satisfied, there's the road off there?'Or say the lad we've got in Washington—What if he said, 'If you don't like my way,There's ships there in the harbor?' Think we'd leave?You've had your eyes, Cap, on the ground so longThat you've forgotten there's such things as men.

(The old man comes down to the stump which he and Anderson tried earlier in the scene. Anderson picks up his kindling and goes left and proceeds to start a fire. The night gathers quickly)

Cap Saunders.

(Trying the stump)

Be careful, Harvey, or they'll see the flameAnd think it's found already.

Harvey Anderson.

I don't care.'Twould serve them right.

Cap Saunders.

They're watching at this hour.

Harvey Anderson.

'Now we've got millions!' then say 'April Fool.'God, I don't blame them though; I'd do it too.

(Picks up a blanket and, sticking pieces of brush in the ground, hangs it between the fire and the town)

Cap Saunders.

Aug. Jergens he'd be mighty mad, I tell you.

Harvey Anderson.

If I could put men out, you bet I would.And when I found the gold I'd make her fly.You wouldn't catch me quarrelling with a lotOf fellows for the bones, I tell you that.I'd take a rump or two, then say, 'Light inAnd fill your bellies'; or, 'Come on; I'm rich;Let's take a turn together.' And I'd buyA train or two and we'd all take a spinAround the world. I'd make their hair stand up.I'd show those eastern fellows once or twice.

(Goes left and climbs up on the boulder and looks back over the waste)

Cap Saunders.

(Coming forward)

You'll have that rolling down if you don't mind.

Harvey Anderson.

And that's one reason I'll be always broke,For I know how to spend, while EgertonAnd Jergens and those fellows down there don't,In spite of their big houses. They know howTo quarrel with men and squeeze their last dime out,But they don't know how to say, 'By God, come on;Let's have a drink together; we're all friends.'

(The old man busies himself about the fire, preparing the evening meal. Anderson sits down on the boulder and looks off up the valley. Where the town was seen, lights begin to appear)

Harvey Anderson.

You'll wake up some day, Cap, and look aboutAnd Harvey will be gone.

Cap Saunders.

You don't mean that!You ain't took no offence at what I said?

Harvey Anderson.

Mad as the Devil, Cap.

Cap Saunders.

Don't you know, Harvey,About the rolling stone?

Harvey Anderson.

There's some stones, Cap,Would rather have the motion than the moss.

Cap Saunders.

You're sure a wild one, Harvey; that you are.You'd stir a muss up, that's what you would do.

(Goes to the boulder and stands beside Anderson, and they both look off up the valley)

Harvey Anderson.

The mansion all lit up—what's going on?

(They are silent)

It's a strange world, Cap, it's a funny world.You throw a piece of bread down; it draws ants,Red ants and black ants, little ants and big,And if you'll keep it up you'll have them hereBuilding their hills about you; you know that.

Cap Saunders.

(Returning to the fire)

It's wonderful how much some men can do.

Harvey Anderson.

Well, men are ants, and Egerton he's had bread.And he's kept throwing it down there in the valley,First crumb by crumb and later chunk by chunk,Until he's drawn them round him, thousands of them,And when they've come he's put them all to work.And to see them at it! I could spend my lifeSitting upon the mountains on some rockThat hangs above the town, watching them drudge.'Get me my logs out;' and they get his logs.'Now saw them; make me lumber;' and they do it,'Build me my railroad;' and they blast the rocks.'Now up with my big mansion on the hill,And carve me all my ants upon the walls,Some sawing logs, others with axes raisedHard at the big round boles, some half cut down;Make her look like a forest through and through.'And they've tugged at it till they've got it done.And all they've chopped and sawed and built is his,And he puts it in his pocket and sits downAnd they can't help themselves. They've got to eat,And Egerton he's the man that's——

(He has risen and stands looking back through the darkness)

Cap Saunders.

What do you say,Harvey, let's spend the night back in the cabin.It ain't the cold I mind, but from the airI wouldn't be surprised if it would snow.

Harvey Anderson.

By God, Cap!

Cap Saunders.

Eh?

Harvey Anderson.

Looks like the boys had found it.

Cap Saunders.

You don't, don't say!

(Goes to the boulder)

Harvey Anderson.

Off there, beyond the knob.

(Bill Patten comes through the darkness, rear right. He looks about, then spies the men)

Bill Patten.

You got some grub that you can spare, boys?

(Goes near the men and gets their line of vision)

That?It's the moon rising.

Cap Saunders.

Ah, I'm glad, I'm glad!

Harvey Anderson.

Against the sky it looked like some far fire.

(Gets down from the boulder)

Bill Patten.

You're of the force that's huntin' for the mine?

Harvey Anderson.

That's 'hunting' for it, yes.

Bill Patten.

You'll find it.

Harvey Anderson.

Why?

Bill Patten.

Egerton's luck.

(Calls back)

O Silas!

(To Anderson)

'Tain't no useA-fightin' that old wolf or 'spectin' GodTo put his hand between J. D. and gold.He's got a devil that takes care of him.

(Silas Maury and his son Willie, a boy of twelve or thirteen, enter rear)

Bill Patten.

And the same devil blacks Aug. Jergens' boots.I'd like to get that man in some lone spot.

(They sit down. The workmen seize food and eat ravenously)

Harvey Anderson.

Mill-hands?

(Patten nods)

How's the strike?

Bill Patten.

I ain't a manTo show the white while there's a chance to win.

Silas Maury.

They've got till sun-down to report for work.

Bill Patten.

They'll feel like dogs, too, goin' in that gate,After the bluff they've made, lickin' his hand.Me for some other town. I'd rather starve.

Silas Maury.

They're 'ranging to bring in a lot of scabsTo-morrow, when the Governor will be there.

Bill Patten.

Much as to say, 'Now knock 'em!' Son of a bitch!

Harvey Anderson.

The Governor?

Cap Saunders.

What's the trouble?

Bill Patten.

Cakes and pies.

Silas Maury.

It's Egerton's big reception.

Harvey Anderson.

(To Cap Saunders)

Explains the lights.They're getting things in shape.

Silas Maury.

Yes.

(He and Anderson walk a little way left and look back toward the mansion)

Bill Patten.

When the boysFirst talked of strikin' when they made the cutI said, 'Don't do it. Egerton's a man—You'd better fight the Devil than fight him.He'll show no mercy on you if you cross him.'I guess they know by now that Bill was right.Sam Williams though he thinks he knows. 'Hang on.'All right, hang on; but you will see what comes.It's hell. I'd rather die out on some rock.

Silas Maury.

There ain't no room for poor men in this world.I don't know what God ever made us for.

(He and Anderson return to the fire)

Bill Patten.

The man that's got no home's a lucky man.

Silas Maury.

I said to Willie, 'I'm glad mother's dead.'

(A pause)

Willie Maury.

Think she can see us, pa?

Silas Maury.

I don't think so.

Bill Patten.

She's better off.

Silas Maury.

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