GEORGE WASHINGTON'S FORTUNE

(Founded on a legend of him youth. CHARACTERS

GEORGE WASHINGTON, a Youthful Surveyor Young Lads who serve respectfully as "chainmen" and "pilots" RICHARD GLENN JAMES TALBOT KEITH CARY A FRONTIERSMAN RED ROWAN, his daughter

SCENE: An open woodland glade that is part of the wilderness portion of Lord Fairfax's estate beyond the Blue Ridge Mountains in Virginia, 1748. Trees at right, left, and background. Trailing vines. Low bushes. Underfoot a carpet of rotting leaves. At the left, near foreground, a fire smolders. Near it are spread a bearskin used as a sleeping-blanket, some pine boughs, surveyors' tools, and a tin box. At the right a fallen tree-trunk, mossed, vine-covered. The time is mid-afternoon. The lads who enter wear the garb of frontiersmen; but when the play begins the forest glade is deserted until Richard Genn's voice is heard from the woods in background.

RICHARD GENN.

Come on, then, Washington. Hurry there, Talbot! (Genn enters, carrying chains and a surveyor's pole, and comes quickly to the fire.) Why, the ashes have kept their heat since morning. We will not have to start another fire.

JAMES TALBOT (entering with Washington from background).

That's good hearing, for I'm famished. How say you, Washington?

WASHINGTON. (laughing and coming to fire).

I could eat a wild turkey, feathers and all. This life in the wilderness makes one keenly hungry. What's in the box, Richard?

TALBOT (delving into tin box).

Bacon. Some dry bread.

WASHINGTON.

Toast the bacon between the bread, and we'll have such a feast as is due to young surveyors who've tramped a good ten miles since morning. Now then, Richard. Here are some sticks. Let each lad toast his own.

TALBOT (helping to prepare).

The very smell of it makes me ravenous. (To Genn.) I wonder where your Uncle is, and Colonel Fairfax?

GENN.

Miles from here, doubtless. (Stretches.) But I am stiff!

WASHINGTON.

And where can Carey be?

TALBOT.

Oh, Carey's lagged behind to get a shot at some grouse that he means to have for supper. Hark!

CAREY (In background).

Lads! Lads! Where be ye?

WASHINGTON. (calling in answer).

Here, Carey, here. (To the others.) That's he, now. Well, Carey, what luck?

CAREY (entering from background).

Any luck but pot luck. Missed both times. No grouse for us. I almost wish I'd raided some frontiersman's cabin.

[Sits at fire.

WASHINGTON.

"Get what you can get honestly." (Passes him the bacon.) "Use what you get frugally." That was an old saying I learned from my copybook, and even in the wilderness it seems to hold true.

RICHARD GENN (as they sit about fire, eating).

What's to be done when this meal is finished? GEORGE WASHINGTON. Naught that I know of. I can do no more till I receive further orders from Colonel Fairfax.

TALBOT.

Well, then, we've a half-holiday. 'Tis the first idle time we've had in three weeks. Up before dawn, and to bed before star-rise! I tell you it makes the hours spin fast. How shall we pass our leisure?

CAREY.

I'm going back for those grouse.

[Rises.

TALBOT.

I've seen the bronze of a wild turkey's wing.

[Rises.

GENN. (smacking his lips).

I'd like to have that same turkey wing here before the fire! (Rises.) I'm with you, Talbot, for whatever a sportsman's luck may bring. And you, Washington?

WASHINGTON.

I'd best wait here to see if a message comes from Colonel Fairfax. If in one hour the message does not come, I'll join you.

GENN. (ready to start).

Well, then, Talbot.

[The three lads start.

WASHINGTON. (to Carey).

I wish you luck! May you flush a grouse at every ten yards!

[Lads laugh, and exeunt, background. Washington looks after them a moment, and then takes surveying paper from his pocket.

WASHINGTON.

Now for my wilderness chart!

[Pores over it. From the distance comes the sound of a frontiersman's ax, which he is too absorbed to notice. Red Rowan enters from the right, a wild, picturesque young figure in a scarlet cloak.

WASHINGTON. (to himself, as he bends over his chart).

'Tis not so easy as Little Hunting Creek!

RED ROWAN (approaching him).

Nothing is easy in the wilderness!

WASHINGTON (starting up, gazing at her, and then brushing his hand across his eyes).

I thought I was studying before the fire; but instead I've been dreaming . . . dreaming!

RED ROWAN (shaking her head).

No dream! Only a woodsman's daughter. You can hear my father yonder, felling oaks. I saw the glimmer of your fire and came.

WASHINGTON. (with a boyish courtesy and shyness).

Will you—will you not be seated?

RED ROWAN (seated on bearskin, looking at fire).

Folks call me Red Rowan.

WASHINGTON.

My name is Washington. George Washington.

RED ROWAN (still looking at the fire).

You have a shrewd fire, and the air is chill in these mountains.

WASHINGTON.

Will you not have some bacon and bread? I wish there were more to offer you.

RED ROWAN

I'll have a taste of the bacon and a morsel of bread. (Washington begins to prepare them). I thank you.

WASHINGTON. (toasting bread and bacon).

The wilderness must be rough-seeming to you.

RED ROWAN

I'm well-used to deep forests and long, hard journeys, for the love of a trail is in my blood. My grandfather was a gentleman rover, and my father a frontiersman, and my mother was—a gipsy.

WASHINGTON. (surprised).

A gipsy?

RED ROWAN (nodding).

Aye, but she died when I was little, and lies buried oversea. 'Tis ten years now since my father came from England, and brought me with him.

WASHINGTON.

You have known little of a roof, then.

RED ROWAN

Aye, or of schooling. But forests are kind teachers, and have given me much. There is a lore deeper than the lore of books. You too must know it. For with lonely campfires and winding roads and sharp, white, frosty stars one comes to gather wisdom. Schoolbooks may give you the past, but it is in my blood to know——

WASHINGTON. (as she pauses).

The future—!

RED ROWAN (slowly, gazing at fire).

Or so I tell myself. I must ofttimes make up fancies to help the long days pass. (Rises.) Come, for a jest, let me read your palm, Master Washington. And in after years you may say: "Why, so Red Rowan told me!"

WASHINGTON.

Would you have me put faith in witchcraft?

RED ROWAN (offended).

Do I look like a witch? Nay, but you know right well I do not. Come, let me read your hand. 'Tis a mere jest, and will do no harm, and you need not believe a word I say.

WASHINGTON.

I will not, if it is flattering; for I have learned aforetime that humility is the forerunner of advancement. [Footnote: Washington's own words]

RED ROWAN (seated on mossy log, as she reads his hand).

What would you wish to be?

WASHINGTON. (simply).

When I grow older, a man of deeds, not words. [Footnote: Washington's own words]

RED ROWAN

Well, then, give hither. (Reading his hand.) Your name is Washington, and you come from beyond Blue Ridge. All this I know. For the rest, let me read. You are well versed in woodcraft, but not so well in books.

WASHINGTON.

There I must mend me.

RED ROWAN

Aye. You are a notable horseman: your wrist is quick at the foils; you can swim, climb, and fight, if need be. You are strong, and your valor equals your strength, your courtesy, your bearing. The line of truth is here. You smile?

WASHINGTON.

I was thinking of the matter of a hatchet and a cherry tree!

RED ROWAN (still reading).

Through all your life, success will smile upon you. Here are the marks of battles. Here are the lines of hardships and of victories. And all these little lines—see, marches, marches, marches! You'll be a colonel, and perhaps a general. You laugh? Some day you'll see! 'Twill all come true! You'll fight in a great cause.

WASHINGTON. (puzzled).

What cause is there to fight for?

RED ROWAN

That I do not know. But here 'tis clearly written. And you will win. Your name will be on all men's tongues. 'Tis a long road, and all up hill. But at the summit—triumph! Remember that. Upon the summit is triumph.

WASHINGTON. (half-soberly).

And for the rest?

RED ROWAN

You'll be upon a farmstead with great, rolling acres.

WASHINGTON.

Forest or farmstead, I care not which. That part is true enough, Mistress Rowan. There was a time when I wished to go to sea; but now I hope to spend my life at Ferry Farm.

RED ROWAN (rising).

Part of it will be spent far otherwise. Remember that I told you.

WASHINGTON. (courteously). Aye, I'll remember, tho' 'tis but a jest.

RED ROWAN (pausing).

Aye, a jest wrought of gipsy magic. I wish you well, Master Washington, and I thank you for your hospitality.

FRONTIERSMAN'S VOICE (calling from right).

Rowan!

RED ROWAN (answering).

I'm coming, father. (To Washington.) Remember, Master Washington, that I told you.

[Exit Rowan, quickly and lightly.

WASHINGTON. (smiling to himself).

Remember! Why, 'tis the merest jest.

CAREY (from background).

Time's up, George! There's wondrous sport. Are you not coming?

WASHINGTON. (to Carey).

Aye, I am coming. (To himself.) But the merest jest! "To fight in a great cause—!" "A long hill, and a hard, and at the summit—triumph!" (Shaking off the spell the words have cast on him). The lads would laugh, did I but tell them! (Calls, in answer to impatient steps, and crackling of leaves in background.) I come!

[He makes his exit into background, running blithely, and the play ends.

COSTUMES

GEORGE WASHINGTON. Frontiersman's suit, modeled on Indian lines. The suit is tan-colored, supposedly made of dressed deerskin. The breeches and tunic are fringed, Indian fashion. There is neither paint nor beading upon the suits. Moccasins. The other lads wear suits of the same kind. The material can be cotton khaki. The moccasins can be made of the same, and beaded.

RED ROWAN. Dress of leaf-brown homespun made rather short, and quite plain, open at the neck, the sleeves coming to the elbow. A cloak of vivid scarlet, gathered in simple folds at neck, and falling to the ankles. Both dress and cloak may be made of cambric, using the unglazed side. Tan stockings. Moccasins. The latter may be made of cotton khaki, and beaded.