Big lake

This play is fully protected by copyright. All acting rights, both professional and amateur, are reserved in the United States, the British Empire, including the Dominion of Canada, and all countries of the Copyright Union, by the owner. Application for the right of performing this play or of reading it in public should be made to Samuel French, 25 West 45th Street, New York City.

Country School Boys and Girls

Messrs. Kradoska, Hayes, Parsons, Fielding,
Williams, Curtis.

Misses Schmidt, Seymour, Titsworth, Johnson,
Squire, Smith.

The action takes place in Indian Territory, now Oklahoma, in the
year 1906

Settings designed by Lewis Barrington
Costumes designed by Gertrude Brows
Sets and costumes executed by the Laboratory Theater Workshop
Property Man Morton Brown

The Director and Actors are deeply grateful to Mme. Maria Ouspenskaya for the invaluable assistance she gave in the preparation of this production.

This play came to us late in the season of 1926-1927. Produced by George Auerbach at the American Laboratory Theater in New York, it attracted some attention during April and May, and survived without serious damage the ordeal of criticism by several of the front-line reviewers. With two or three exceptions, however, the notices showed little understanding of what Mr. Riggs was trying to do.

That is one reason why I am presuming to add these few words to the dramatist’s text. Big Lake is that rarest of things, a poetic drama that is at once poetry and drama. To one of his later plays Mr. Riggs has given the title Sump’n Like Wings, and I can think of no words that so accurately describe what I felt when, over a year ago, I read the manuscript of Big Lake. There is a winged lightness in the words that the poet puts into the mouths of his young people, an ecstasy born of the sheer joy of being alive. How poor a thing is the mere “observation” of a clever playwright beside the deeper,[Pg viii] more incisive and highly intuitive scenes in Big Lake!

In calling Mr. Riggs a poet (I refer here not to his formal verse-making, but to his plays) I am not forgetting that poetry in the theater is a different thing from the poetry you read in a book: Mr. Riggs’ plays are stage pieces; the poetry in them is never a matter of mere words, but an integral part of the speeches uttered and the gestures made by the characters, directing each scene and permeating the whole. It lies first in the writer’s conception of a harmonic entity, and floods it from beginning to end.

Mr. Riggs’ three full-length plays are the work of a young man who is still close enough to his youth to remember and understand those fleeting moments of exaltation and depression that constitute the glory and the tragedy of adolescence. In Big Lake, more especially than in A Lantern To See By and Sump’n Like Wings, Mr. Riggs has been able on occasion to look at the world about him through the eyes of a child: can you not feel in the second scene of the first act something of the wonder and terror of the more wildly romantic stories of the Brothers Grimm?

If this Foreword were a study, I should go on[Pg ix] to point out how Lynn Riggs has taken the folk-material and the idiom of his native district and skillfully made of them a rich medium of expression, and explain how, with only the slightest technical manipulation, he has reproduced the subtle rhythms of everyday speech. Then I should also have to take him to task for an occasional awkwardness in the management of his plots. But my purpose here is not to criticize: it is to point out to you a new American dramatist, whose work is permeated by an odd and strangely haunting beauty.

Scene 1

(The woods adjoining the Big Lake, near Verdigree Switch, Indian Territory, 1906. It is Spring. Vines creep on the trees just putting out their green. The ground is soft with dead leaves, among which grow the earliest flowers. A fallen log lies in a tangle of last year’s briars. It is the grayness of morning. Color is beginning to show in the East, where the lake lies, and as the light grows the lake shines through the leaves. Lloyd and Betty come from the left, softly over the matted earth. They are very young. Lloyd is tall, dark; he has black hair; his face is sensitive; he wears rough shoes, dark trousers, and a pale blue shirt. Betty’s hair is yellow. She has let it down. It frames her white, delicate face. Her dress is a coarse dark slip.)

It’s been s’ gray. But now it’s gettin’ lighter and lighter—even to clear back here in the woods.

I c’n feel the dawn. I c’n see the dawn! Look! Through the trees! Whur the lake’s at! The Big Lake’s a-shinin’ like a tub full o’ soap-suds! I’m glad we come. Ain’t you, Betty?

I’m glad we come. (They stand a moment breathless at the beauty before them.) Le’s set down. (They sit at left.) The horse is tied up. Grub’s safe in the buggy. Miss Meredith ’n’ the rest of ’em won’t be here fer a long time yit.

Yeow, but it’ll be a long time. Won’t Miss Meredith be supprised to find us here ahead of everbody? It was my idee. She’ll think we’re purty smart.

The whole class, I guess—’cept the Davis boy. It’ll be a nice day to picnic, won’t it? (He rises and goes away from her and looks out toward the Lake. Softly, then more and more ecstatic, like a prayer—) I alwys liked the Big Lake. I’ve come here many’s the[Pg 5] time with Paw, when we’d went out to git some cattle. Miles and miles through the bilin’ heat, tongue clawin’ at yer mouth—a-eatin’ dust, mebbe we’d go. Dust bilin’ up and blindin’ you—a-gettin’ in yer mouth and eyes till you thought you couldn’t stand it. An’ then the dark woods here—briars a-clawin’ at yer legs and hands, rattlers a-hidin’ under the leaves mebbe, logs t’ make yer horses jump, and branches ye’d have t’ dodge. Then the lake—flowin’ wide out—plum over almost out o’ sight—a-settin’ thar in the sun like sump’n you never hoped t’ see! I’d alwys want t’ git off my horse and go down to the edge of it—and tech it—and look at it—a long time. But Paw ud alwys say, “Set thar a-gawkin’, you kid. We got to git back to the sawmill ’fore 2 o’clock,” or he’d say, “’Tother end o’ the Lake is dried up purty good, son. We could cross over thar ’stid o’ goin’ round by the section line.” (After a moment.) I ain’t never seen it like this, though. It’s purtier’n I ever seen it. And we c’n look at it ’s long’s we want to. And we c’n go out on it—in a boat—if they is a boat—

You’re funny. Set over thar then. I like you thar jist as well. You look purty good no matter whur you’re a-settin’. You set purty good. I like you settin’ thar with the vine leaves and the tree leaves behind you. You’ve got purtier and purtier, Betty.

They is need to. Seems t’ me yore comin’ to Verdigree wuz like you’d come from some place besides down the river. It made me think of the Bible—sump’n about the angel that come down to roll away the stone—

I uz asleep, I wuz. I uz young-asleep. I uz boy-asleep. I’m awake now. I’m a man. I’ve come to life.

Out of here, out of these woods! (Pleading for him to understand.) Oh, you think I ain’t right. I cain’t expect you to know how I feel. They’s sump’n—I don’t know what it is— Please! It’s like the woods wuz waitin’—

To git us. To git us! I’m afeard. They’s things growin’ here—an’ fightin’. They’s things crawlin’ on the ground, under the ground—in the trees—everwhur! I’m afeard!

Futher down—they’s a cabin, I know, and a boat—mebbe. Come on—le’s go to it. (They start. Lloyd stops, shaking off his fear.) Aw, listen. Whut’s the matter with us? Runnin’ like rabbits. They ain’t nuthin’ to be skeered of. We’re jist cold, that’s all. That’s it. Drivin’ so long ’fore it got light has jist got us chilled to the bone.

Now, Betty, to the cabin first. Why, you’re cold! They’ll be a fa’r a-burnin’ thar. I doan know who’s a-livin’ thar, but we’ll go up and knock, and ask t’ git warm. They’ll be up. Country folks git up early. And they’ll have a fa’r—a nice roarin’ warm fa’r in the fa’rplace fer us to git warm at. Won’t you like that?

It’s the funniest kind o’ cabin you ever see. It’s a log cabin. I been in it a long time ago with Paw. It’s a nice log cabin. An’ they’ll have a fa’r.

Frum the outside it looks jist like any log cabin. But when you open the door, and look in—whut do you see? Steps! Three steps a-goin’ down to the dirt floor. It’s part under the ground—

It growed out o’ the ground. It growed out o’ the same ground the big woods growed out of! (She shudders.)

Scene 2

(Interior of the cabin. At the back three steps descend from the planked door to the dirt floor of the cabin. Windows, curtained, are on either side of the door. They are so high up that only a tall man can see out. A wide fireplace made of stone rises from the floor at the right end of the room. In the left corner of the cabin, a wide double-deck bunk juts out. Crazy quilts cover both beds. A few chairs, a rough table (set for breakfast at right of steps) and utensils for cooking at the fireplace—complete the furnishings. A fire burns in the fireplace; coffee bubbles on a little iron stand on the hearth. It is dark and gloomy; no direct sunlight has ever reached this secret place.

Elly, a tall, dark woman of thirty-five, stands tensely by the corner of the bunk. Her face, even in her excitement, is brooding and restrained. Her thick black hair, parted in the middle, is done up in a knob at the back of her head. She is wearing a faded, predominantly purple, plaid dress—full-sleeved, full-skirted, pulled in at the waist. After a moment she goes swiftly to the fireplace, pokes the fire, then goes across to the window nearest the bunk, and with extraordinary agility and grace steps upon a chair under the window and looks out. She gets down, goes slowly toward the fireplace. In the center of the room she halts, wheels about and faces the door. It opens. A man comes in quickly, and closes the door as if shutting something[Pg 14] out. He turns, facing her from the top of the steps. He is of medium height, brutal, crafty. His clothes are nondescript and unclean. His hair slants into his eyes.)

Shet up, I tell you! Squawkin’ like a hen. You wanta git me killed? (In a low voice.) They follered me.

I’ll show ’em! They won’t git me. I’ve got away frum better men ’n they are. They won’t git me alive—the lousy bums! I’d like to see ’em! They follered me. I been at the Switch. An’ when I started back I seen three men a-follerin’. They’ll come here. (He stops thoughtfully.) They ain’t got nuthin’ on me. They cain’t prove nuthin’— (In a hard, matter-of-fact voice.) They don’t know it’s me done it. They only got somebody’s word. They don’t know it, and they cain’t prove it. No one saw me—

Butch, I knowed this ud come. I knowed it. You’ll git sent up. And it ain’t right. You ain’t done nuthin’ wrong. It’s jist a law. W’at the hell’s a law? W’at’s it good fer? Why’n’t it agin the law everwhur else to sell whiskey? Them men whur they have their corner saloons all polished up—a-makin’ it criminal to sell a man a drink—w’at’s right about it? (With scorn.) Oh, yes! I know. Pertectin’ the Indians! They don’t want the Indians to git all lit up like they do all the time—ever day, ever night, regular. (With disgust.) Hell! Indians! I ain’t saw two Indians since I come to Indian Territory. Now they’ll git you. I’ve knowed it. They’ll stick you fer sellin’ the stuff to the poor fools that’s too skeered, and too weak, and too damn big a cowards to go up to Kansas City or Joplin and bring in their own whiskey, like a man. They’ll send you to jail—the only man that’s got guts enough to do it. You’ll git ten year or more. W’at’ll I git? I’ll git off—that’s w’at I’ll git. I’ll git left here to rot!

Shet up! (He goes up the steps and listens intently. Then he comes down.) Let up on yer jail stuff. You’ll have me skeered. And I got to keep my senses. Listen t’ me. I been follered before. The last bunch o’ guys laid in wait close to the Holler whur the whiskey’s at. Did that stop me frum gettin’ the whiskey and gettin’ out with it? Did that stop me frum sellin’ it regler to Joe Hurd’s Curio Store at Claremont? I been follered lots o’ times and you know it. I been follered lots o’ times ’count o’ selling whiskey. It ain’t nuthin’ new to me. But this time I’m follered and it ain’t on the ’count o’ whiskey! They’s sump’n else....

You wuz skeered! I never see you like that before. You’ve done sump’n. Tell me w’at it is. W’at’ve you done?

Christ’s sake! You’re a mad womern! Keep yer shirt on! Mebbe I ain’t done nuthin’. Mebbe I jist been foolin’ myself. Mebbe—for all I know, they ain’t nuthin’ to git excited about.

Butch! You got blood on yer coat! (She stands a moment, terrified.) You’re hurt! Why’n’t you tell me? Quick, lemme fix it—I didn’t know.

It ain’t my blood. (Elly draws back, her hand at her face, confused.) I killed a man.

Oh! (With terrible conviction.) You’ll hang fer it, Butch Adams! Why’d you go and do it? Who wuz it?

Jim Dory. He told on me fer sellin’ whiskey. He told the federal officers at Tulsy. I killed him. Stuck a knife in him and turned it around. That’s why I went out at midnight ... to lay fer him. I knowed he’d go to the play-party over t’ Binghams. I laid fer him in the big woods close to the sawmill here. He’d go that a-way home, I figgered. About three o’clock this mornin’ he come along in a buggy with one horse to it. I jumped out and grabbed the bridle. He lep’ out on me with a knife. I got a-hold of it. I stuck it through his ribs and turned it around. Then I got skeered. They might think I done it ... findin’ him so close t’ here. It wouldn’t do to find him so close. I picked him up and dumped him in the buggy and give the horse a crack with a stick. He started off in a run down the road. But not afore I’d saw Jim kinda raise up one of his hands to his face! He wuzn’t dead. I hadn’t made shore! He wuzn’t dead, and he’d tell on me! He’d tell some one ’fore he died, and I’d hang fer it! I thought mebbe I could ketch up and finish the job. But the horse run like mad, crashin’ through the bushes but keepin’ purty close to the road. I run and run after him—almost to the Switch. Then I seen some one come out of the store whur a light was burnin’, and grab the horse’s bridle. I seen him take Jim up and carry him in and shet the door. I[Pg 18] run away then. I didn’t know if he wuz dead or not. If he wuzn’t, he’d tell on me! I wuz crazy—not knowin’ if he wuz dead or not. I come on to the woods. I couldn’t stand it not knowin’: I started back. When I got to the edge of the woods I seen three men comin’ up the road. I knowed one of ’em! It wuz the Shuruff. They musta wired to Claremont fer him. Jim ’d told on me! Elly! Whut’ll I do? They’ll git me! (Elly goes over to the fireplace, in her absorbed way, without speaking, and pours some water in a pan.) Elly! They’ll be here any minute! Fer God’s sake, say sump’n!

Take off yer coat. (He does, like one in a daze.) Throw it under the bunk. (He does so.) Wash yer hands. (He moves toward the pan slowly and begins to wash his hands. She has gone to the table with the coffee pot and poured some coffee. He finishes washing and dries his hands on a towel.) Set down. (He moves toward the table.)

Set down! And eat yer breakfast,—Mister Murderer! (He sits. Elly leans over the table.) Eat a plenty. Drink—here’s coffee. Salt pork, gravy, potaters—eat ’em! Enjoy yerself!

Whut’re you meanin’! I hadn’t oughta done it? Whut’d you want me to do ... let him git away with it, let that dirty little coward sneak off to Tulsy and sick the officers onto me like bloodhounds ’n do nuthin’ about it? That ain’t my way! If some one does me dirt he gets his, you c’n count on it! I ain’t no Christian: I’m a man!

You’re lower’n I thought you wuz. I never thought t’ be livin’ with a murderer. (He comes toward her.) Oh, I ain’t so good. I know. You don’t have t’ tell me. But I never thought t’ come t’ this. I thought I knowed w’at I uz gettin’ into when I went away with you. I knowed you uz a bootlegger. I didn’t keer. It’s clean. It’s right. But killin’ ... I stop at killin’! Why’d you go and do it? Why did you? Now they’ll come and take you. They’ll take you away from me!

No, they wouldn’ta! They couldn’t ’a’ proved it. But now they’ll take you. They’ll hang you fer murder. (She clings to him.) No, I won’t let ’em! They cain’t take you! I love you—I cain’t help it. ’N I won’t let ’em take you away frum me! I won’t let em![Pg 20] I’ll find a way! I will! They ain’t proved you done it ... you said no one seen you....

Sh—! I heerd sump’n! (Excitedly—drawing his pistol.) They won’t git me!...

Butch! Give it t’ me! I’m all right now. I ain’t never advised you wrong. I’ll git you outa this! Listen t’ me: you ain’t been outa the house, y’hear—not since yistiddy. Eat yer breakfast! (She goes to the window, steps on the chair, and looks out.) It’s only a man an’ womern....

Some way. I doan know yit. Gimme the gun. (He hands it to her, reluctantly.) Keep yer head. These two’ll come in. They’ll keep you frum hangin’, Butch Adams! (She goes swiftly to the bunks, and hides the pistol under the quilts. Butch goes back to the table and sits. There is a moment of intense silence. Then a knock.) Come in!

It won’t bother me. Nuthin’ gits in my way. You’re welcome. Come in, an’ git warm if you want to. (They come down the steps slowly. Elly turns to the window.) I’ll git you a cheer.

Butch, bring a cheer up. (He picks up a chair and sets it in front of the fireplace. Lloyd and Betty watch him anxiously. He goes across to the bunks and sits down. Elly crosses over with another chair.) Here’s another cheer. Set down. (They go over slowly and sit.) The fa’r’s goin’ strong. Mebbe you’d like a cup of hot coffee?

No’m, we ain’t yit. We’re gonna have it ’s soon’s Miss Meredith comes.

Why, we—we jist thought we’d come early. We drove over from the Switch. Horse and buggy’s up here a ways—not fur.

Oh! (She looks from one to the other. Then to Betty.) Air you gittin’ warm, Miss?

He’s asleep. (The three smile at this. Lloyd and Betty begin to feel more at ease.) This is the first time I been out s’ early. I didn’t know it wuz cold. Now I know. ’Fore it gits sun-up it’s li’ble to be. Even after sun-up it’s apt to be cold here in the woods, ain’t it?

I used to go all the time when I uz yore age. In Kansas City. Woods wuzn’t fur away. Used to go—a whole crowd of us—ever Sunday. Set on the ground ... real ground, ’stid o’ pavement ... with grass a-growin’ out of it. First I’d ever saw. We thought it wuz fine. You’ve missed a lot.

Yes’m. I guess so. But I’ve had fun. I been out with Paw a lot—drivin’ cattle. He buys ’em up differnt places—Verdigree, Foyil, Sageeyah, even ’s fur away’s Pryor Crick. Nen we saddle up our horses’n go out ’n drive ’em in to ship to the market at St. Louis.

Well, in the summer then, ’n the spring: I doan see w’at’s fun about the scorchin’ heat ’n the dust ’n the hot wind. I’d wanta be in out of it. I’d wanta be under a roof whur the sun didn’t hit me....

Sun’s bad. Dust’s bad, too. Wind ain’t so good. But they’s sump’n else....

My brother wuzn’t bad. Jist wuzn’t right. He used to run out in the woods here like he uz wild. He lived here with us. He done queer things.

This is queer too. You’ll laugh. You see, when Paw and me goes out t’ drive cattle, some time or other we pass by the Big Lake.

Yes’m. Sometimes it’s early ... when we first start out frum the Switch. Sometimes it’s the middle of the day—when we’ve got back frum Grand River. Sometimes it’s night. But we alwys pass by it—some time or other.

I doan see w’at’s fun about it. I been livin’ here three year. I c’n see the Lake any time. They’s no fun to that.

I cain’t explain it very well. It’s nice—nice t’ see it. ’N no matter whur you’re at, whut time o’ day it is, it’s nice to know the Lake’s thar. ’N it’s nice to know ’at some time mebbe you’ll git a chance to go out on it. I ain’t never been. I alwys want to. (Smiling.) Kinda crazy, ain’t it?

No. Fer keerlessness. Some of ’em fall in. Some of ’em turn the boat over. Sometimes the boat leaks....

Yeow. But if they didn’t try to go out on the Lake, the boat wouldn’t leak, the boat wouldn’t turn over, ’n they wouldn’t fall in. It’s their fault fer goin’!

No. ’Tain’t wrong. ’N people will do it. That’s the trouble: they will do it. ’N do you know who it is does it? D’you know who it is that’s alwys gettin’ drownded in the Lake? People like you—young people—like yerselves—picnickin’! My brother—he got drownded out thar—a month back. We never did find him.

Yes, sir. (Lloyd goes over quickly, anxiously.) We better go, Lloyd. I’m warm. I’m plenty warm.

Well, we’ll go then. (To Butch.) Thank you, Mister— Thank you fer the fa’r. (He turns toward Elly.) I wuz goin’ t’ ask you if we could borry yer boat. I doan know now if I want to....

Borry it! Borry it all you want to! Here’s the key. (Lloyd takes it.) Bring it back when you git ready. Oars is over thar by the door.

Thank you. (To Elly.) Thanks fer the f’ar. (Lloyd and Betty go toward the steps. He picks up the oars. They go up the steps. Lloyd turns to Elly.) The oars seem to be good. The boat—don’t leak, does it?

You had a reason fer lettin’ ’em come in, too. You said you did, anyway. Well, what wuz it?

I did have an idee. I thought—when I seen ’em outside ... they might be a way of throwin’ the blame onto that boy, someway....

I wouldn’t have the nerve—to try to throw it onto him. Mebbe it ud work all right, mebbe it could be done. They’s ways of makin’ fools outa the law.... Oh, I know, I’ve done it many’s the time ... an’ we could git suspicion on this boy someway. And he’d hang too—innocent and all! But I cain’t do it, I wouldn’t think of doin’ it....

I mean—it’s an idee.... I wouldn’t a-thought of it. I c’n see, I c’n see a way—you’re a smart womern, Elly.... Wait a minute, lemme think....

Shet up, then! The officers’ll come here. Whut’ll I tell ’em ... whut’ll I say—they’ll come in the door—this boy—he’ll be out on the lake by that time....

You cain’t plan to do this! I won’t let you git that boy killed. He’s too young, he’s too sweet-lookin’....

Ha! Ain’t I young? Ain’t I sweet-lookin’? You’ve said so. ’D you mean it?

So’d Lilly. So’d Marge. ’N whut’d they do? Lilly on her death bed a-damnin’ me—I c’n hear her yit. Marge—she tried to give me up to the law. I fixed her. Hell! They both come here, ’n lived with me. That don’t prove nuthin’. You got to prove it some other way. You got to help me....

I’ve helped you—bendin’ over yer f’ar, cookin’ yer victuals, washin’ yer clothes, makin’ the beds you’ve slep’ in. I’ve helped you ... livin’ in this damp[Pg 36] cellar like a mole with no sunshine a-comin’ in and no moonlight ever. I’ve tended you when you uz sick, I’ve lied fer you, I’ve buried myself away frum all the decent folks I ever knowed—here in these dark woods fer three year. Why’d I do it? Why did I? It’s proof you want, is it? Then look at me, Butch Adams! I’m proof! Look at me! I uz young when I come here with you three year ago. I uz young—like that little girl that uz here jist now. I wuzn’t as purty as her, but I uz young like her. Look at me now!

You’re talkin’. You’re puttin’ words together. Whut good are they to me? They won’t save my neck frum hangin’. You got to help me. If you got to talk, tell me whut to do. The Shuruff’ll be comin’ here. Whut’ll I say to him? They ain’t nuthin’ to say to him, unless you help me. I got a plan—

You got to help me. They don’t keer who they hang in this country. One man’s as good as another fer hangin’. They don’t keer. But I do! I keer fer hangin’. It’s got to be some one else.

That don’t prove it. My word’s as good as his. Jim might’a’ made a mistake; in the dark woods he couldn’t see so well ... not even if it ud been daylight. Mebbe—some one else done it—

Kill me then! Coward! Don’t you know if I done w’at’s right, I’d tell on you now? I’d give you up to the law fer the brute you are, an’ let you hang as you’d oughta hang! Why don’t I? (Bitterly.) Yes, why don’t I? ’Cause I’m a fool, that’s why! I’m like all the women in the world that’s ever lived: I ain’t good, I ain’t decent, I ain’t even honest except to one man! I hate you!

Oh, you do, eh? Well, whut is it you mean, then? If I get that boy hung, how’ll that be hangin’ myself?

Wuzn’t you ever jist startin’ life? Wuzn’t you ever innocent and good, and wantin’ to go out into the world and expectin’ it to be kind to you?...

Then you won’t understand. This boy is that a-way. You cain’t kill a thing like that. If you killed him, you’d be killin’ w’at uz good in you once ... if they uz ever anything....

You’re preachin’. Let up! Whut’d you think this is? It’s got to be the way I say, Elly. If I wanna save my neck, I got to throw the blame on some one else....

Not that boy! I’ll tell you another reason why! If you’d a-looked at him, you’d know the reason yerself! Anybody, even the Shuruff a-lookin’ at him would know that that boy couldn’t do nuthin’ wrong, he couldn’t kill a man....

He couldn’t even hurt any one’s feelin’s! And besides,—his story’s as good as yourn. They’d know w’at he said wuz the truth! You got to try some other plan, Butch. You got to try to get away. You got to sneak out in the woods an’ hide a day or two. I’ll take you grub t’ eat some way. Then when things blows over more we’ll light out fer Texas till they fergit all about us. You could hide close to the old sawmill some’er’s. They’d never think o’ lookin’ there fer you—so near—so near whur Jim—Hurry up, now! (She crosses and gets his gun.) You ain’t got much time. Take yer gun. Don’t use it unless you have to—promise me! I want you to be safe. (She offers him the gun.)

You ain’t givin’ yerself up? Butch, you mustn’t! It’s wrong of me to say it. You’ve broke the laws, you’ve sold whiskey, you’ve killed a man—you’d oughta suffer fer it. But you mustn’t! You got to go—quick—they’s time! I’ll leave you grub ever’ day by the foot-log that’s been washed up by the Crick. I’ll keep a lookout. When it’s safe—

I ain’t goin’. I ain’t gonna give myself up, neither. I got a plan. (Fiercely.) An’ if you try to bungle it, if you try t’ put yer nose in, or even open yer mouth, I’ll kill you, d’ you hear! You know I will, too!

Two of ’em. Keep yer eye on the womern, Plank. (To Butch.) Put ’em up! (The men come down into the room. The Sheriff is a florid-faced man, with a long mustache.) Search him, Joe. (Joe comes over, makes a quick search of Butch, and finds nothing.) No gun, eh? Make shore, Joe. We doan wanna take no chances.

All right. Keep yer gun on him. (To Butch.) Guess you know whut we want you fer, Adams. Yer name’s Adams, ain’t it?

I doan know whut you’re talkin’ about. Come bustin’ into my house this a-way. Whut right’ve you got?

Shoot! Whut’ll you shoot with? Strikes me as funny you got no shootin’ iron on you an’ you jist murderin’ a man in cold blood—

I’m the law! Le’s go. ’S funny about you havin’ no gun—I doan understand it—

Stand whur you air. Git away from that bunk. Lemme see whut you’re a-doin’— (He turns back the cover and finds the pistol.) So that’s whut you’re up to, eh?

She uz reachin’ fer a gun. I thought they uz sump’n funny when we come in. She seemed t’ be a-bendin’ over like she uz huntin’ sump’n—

So that’s it? (To Butch.) Didn’t have time t’[Pg 44] git hold of it, did you? ’S lucky we kicked the door open—

Jim Dory, eh? Who said anything about Jim Dory? I guess you’ve told on yerself!

You’ve fixed yerself now! Look around, Joe. I’ll watch him. They oughta be evidence, too.

You got ’em bloody, did you—puttin’ Jim back in the buggy? Oh, he told. He had time to git out a word or two afore he died. Well, we got evidence. We got you now whur we want you—

I’ve heerd of a crazy boy here in the woods, Shuruff. But that don’t prove nuthin’. You hear funny stories about these woods here—

Yes. Name’s Adams—too, like mine. I’ll tell you. I cain’t pertect him. I tried. He went out las’ night. I didn’t know why. He goes out—roams in the woods—all the time. Lately, he’s got to mumblin’ sump’n—like this: “Woods is too full—woods is too full. People.” I’ve heerd him, ask Elly.

Oh, he did—he said that—“People. Too many people. They’s room in the lake—they’s room thar—they’s room in the lake. It’s big. It’s deep.” Oh— (Buries her face in her hands.)

She liked him. He uz my brother. Las’ night he went out. He come in this mornin’ early. It uz him—it uz him killed Jim Dory. He told me. Met him in the woods—stuck a knife in him. He washed his hands—they uz blood on ’em. He throwed his coat under the bunk—they uz blood on it. He went out again.

You won’t git him—not alive, you won’t. You’ll have t’ be keerful if you even go near him—he’s got a gun!

He run onto her som’er’s. Mebbe here in the woods. I doan know whur she come frum—a young, purty girl. (Meaningly.) He’s got her with him—out on the lake.

We’ll get him frum the bank, then. Joe, you stay here. Watch the cabin—outside. Don’t let these two get outa yer sight. Plank, you come with me.

Shuruff, you mustn’t do it—they’s a reason—you mustn’t. I’ll tell you—

Why’d you do it? You could’ve said he got drownded this mornin’. They’d a-b’lieved it. Why’d you say he wuz on the lake?

You musta noticed, Elly—a girl wuz here with that boy. They’d come here together—

The horse and buggy’s up here a ways. She’s young, she’s purty— They drove here together. She’ll need some one to drive her home—through the woods—

(He goes toward the steps.) Mebbe I am one. Mebbe I am a beast. And this place we’re livin’ in—whut’s it? It’s the woods, Elly. It’s the dark woods. (He goes up the steps.)

Scene 1

She’s a-gettin’ her sewin’ done now, the crazy fool, an’ the Fair six months off!

You better hadn’t! Arclo went ’n’ called her Jessie, ’n’ you orter seen her! She slapped him—!

Who’s gonna cook the meat? Who’s got the meat? Whur is the meat anyhow? It’s bacon, ain’t it?

Aw, le’s play “Ole Joe Clark.” C’m’on! Irey! Git her! Git Hildie fer a pardner. Well, you’re it, then. Irey’s it! Everbody got a pardner?

(Miss Meredith enters at left. She is sharp and prim. Some of the boys shout to her, while the chorus goes on:) C’m’on, Miss Meredith, ’n’ play.

Quit it! Quit it! (The chorus stops.) That’s no way to act! Those verses are not very nice, Bud Bickel.

Ha! Bad taste? Verses don’t taste, Miss Meredith. They ain’t no taste to ’em, ma’am. ’N’ if they is, they all taste alike!

Not another word out of you, Bud Bickel! It’s time to be cooking the breakfast, anyway. You can play afterwards.

Le’s play “Straight Across the Hall.” That’s a game. It ain’t got no verses. C’m’on. Miss Meredith, you be my pardner. C’m’on!

’F anybody steps on you jist kick ’em, Miss Meredith! That’s the way a lady do. (They form a circle, and begin to sing and play.)

Stop it, Bud Bickel! (She crosses over right, angrily.) We won’t play any more.

It is. Don’t you ever do it again, you hear me? And don’t you girls ever let me catch you letting a boy swing you by the waist instead of by the arms. Come on, now! We won’t wait any longer.

You he-devil you, Bud Bickel! You waist-swingin’ son of a gun! Come on ’n’ swing some meat over the f’ar ’n’ see how you like that! (They all go out, laughing.)

Betty— (She turns.) Betty, they jist went. I guess they’re ready t’ eat, now—

Yes, you air, too. I c’n tell the way you act. You see—they wuzn’t nuthin’—

Nuthin’ a-tall. They uz nice folks. (Trying to reassure her.) Funny place t’ be a-livin’ in though—buried under the ground, like. Looks like it ud be damp s’ close to the lake. But they uz nice folks. Nice womern. The man uz all right. Kind of a lumberin’ kinda man—’thout no talk—but kindhearted. Didden he loan us the boat?

Shore! We’ll go, all right. I said we’d go. (He goes toward her. She gets in the boat. A burst of song and laughter comes from the picnickers some distance away. He raises his head.) Betty, listen! They’re gettin’ breakfast ready, I guess.

All right, I ain’t s’ hungry. But I’m jist wonderin’—wh’er we hadn’t oughter let ’em know we’ve come. I told Bud Bickel we uz comin’ early by ourselves. They might wonder about us—or wait fer us.

Smoke’s a-rizin’ good. It’s a-comin’ off the ground an’ rizin’ up like a cloud. We oughter be thar. Miss Meredith might worry about us.

She wouldn’t worry about us. She wouldn’t worry about no one. Please, Lloyd, le’s go out on the lake—a little while, jist fer a little—

Oh, them! That cabin! Them people! That man! I’m afeard of him, he’s a part of these woods here! He’s part of this. I don’t like it. It’s busy, busy a-doin’ sump’n I can’t understand! They ain’t nuthin’ clear t’ me. Why’d he look at me that a-way? Why’d he want me t’ borry a coat t’ keep warm? Why’d he stir up the f’ar—fer me? Why did he?

Why, Betty, he uz only bein’ nice t’ you. He liked you. People like you—you’re sweet, you’re purty—

No. It ain’t that! It’s sump’n else. I don’t understand it. I’m afeard. I’m too young. It’s wrong t’ be young—

He’s a part o’ these woods here! He b’longs here. I don’t. I don’t b’long here. You don’t. We’re too young. They’s sump’n goin’ on—sump’n mean—sump’n awful—It ain’t fer us t’ be part of. We got to git away—

Acrost the lake—or down to the other end. We c’n git a snack t’ eat at Binghams. We’ll do that ’n’ then row home. We won’t come back here t’ the woods if you don’t want to—

Course we could—fer a while. But you’d be hungry. You’d be cold out thar too after a while. The wind blows—

All around the lake, everwhur, they’s woods. The lake goes out—’n’ it’s clear thar and bright—but it teches the woods everwhur at the edges. Oh! They ain’t no place t’ go to! The lake—it teches the woods—it’s a part of the woods! (She sinks down.)

No! No, it ain’t, Betty. You’re jist upset. It’ll be nice out thar. It’ll be clear an’ bright. Mebbe it’ll be warm. We’ll stay as long’s you want to. You mustn’t be this a-way, don’t you see, Betty? Oh, I know—you’re jist upset, you’ve saw things you don’t understand. You’ve been skeered. It’s all right now. You mustn’t think everything’s mixed up like this—like these woods. Out there—look at it—look at the lake! (Breathlessly.) Sun techin’ it. Little waves startin’ in the wind, breakin’ here on the bank in ripples. Trees—willers leanin’ down like they uz prayin’ at the edges. I wish I could be a lake. I wish I could be that big, that deep! I wish I could be ketchin’ the sun like it—an’ sparklin’ an’ singin’—an’ never afeard o’ nuthin’—jist a-settin’ thar quiet in the sunshine—a-lookin’ up at the sky, a-lookin’ up at the sun—

An’ sunset, and shadders, and starlight, an’ the moon burnin’ red. Come on, why’d we stay on the bank? We’ll go out— (He climbs into the boat.)

I did—but I sneaked off. Played hookey frum work—like frum school. Joke’s on my ole man. He’s keepin’ the shop, he’s shoein’ ole Jake Wilkerson’s mare— Whut you doin’ here—you two?

Settin’ in a boat—by yerselves, ain’t ya? Ha! Havin’ a good time all by yerselves, ain’t ya? Sweet[Pg 70] on each other, ain’t ya? Oh, by Joe! Wait’ll I tell Miss Meredith!

You ain’t? Oh, wait’ll I tell her! Settin’ in a boat—hidin’ in a boat! I wouldn’t a-saw you if you’d a-kep’ yer head down. O gorry!

Oh, the sweet little babies—a-settin’ in the boat—jist a-settin’ an’ a-settin’ till the night do come. Oh, by Joe!

I do mind him. We better go. (Painfully.) Lloyd, whut is it? Whut’d he mean?

We’ll go whur the others are at. It’s all right. Don’t you mind. Miss Meredith’ll know it’s all right. She’ll know. Come on. We better go.

Oh, he told me! He told me you were coming early—by yourselves—you and Betty. Why’d you do it?

Why, we wanted t’ be here ’fore it got light t’ see the lake. T’ see it git lighter ’n’ lighter till the gray mist uz all gone—an’ the sun had rose—

Oh, you did? So you had to get up early in the morning—before daylight—and drive here through the dark woods—by yourselves—alone—you two? You had to sneak off where there was no one to spy on you, and no light to make you ashamed of yourselves, didn’t you? Oh, don’t interrupt me! I know why you did it! I’m surprised at you, Betty. I wouldn’t have thought it of you! I shall report you both to the School Board. I’m ashamed! I’m ashamed for you! I can hardly look any one in the face. I[Pg 74] don’t know how you can. Oh, it’s this that makes teaching so hard! After all my labor, and all my rules to keep you from going wrong like this—you sneak off to the woods—the first chance you get—like a couple of animals. I’m ashamed of you! Come on, now! The fire’s started. Come on and eat your breakfast! (She goes out.)

It’s the only place t’ go. We’d oughta went thar before. Come on, Betty, git in. (They get in the boat. Lloyd shoves it away from the bank.) We c’n go acrost ’n’ git grub—we c’n go home—

Home! I don’t want t’ see home again! I hate it! I hate these woods! They’s no place fer us—nowhur—

Scene 2

You got him, Shuruff! He’s sunk down in the boat like he’s dead! Hey! Look at it! Look! The girl! She’s standin’ up in the boat! Good God, she’s jumpin’ in the lake! She’ll drownd!

Shuruff! Shuruff! You’ve killed him! You’ve killed him! (She looks off, left.) Oh, the girl—she’s drownin’! Quick, save her—you got to—go an’ save her, she’s drownin’! (Butch throws off his coat.)

Oh, w’at’ve you done, w’at’ve you done! (With bitter scorn.) You don’t know! You think you’ve upheld the law, you think you’ve done yer duty! Well, you ain’t! You’ve killed an innocent boy that wouldn’t hurt a fly—that’s w’at you’ve done! (She looks left.) Oh, hurry! hurry! She’s goin’ down! Hurry an’ git her!

Go help him, Plank. Go help him. Joe, go drag in the boat. Hurry up! (Plank and Joe hurry out.)

Mebbe she ain’t drownded. Mebbe she ain’t—the pore thing— (She sinks down wearily. To the Sheriff.) Why’d you stand thar? Why don’t you do sump’n? (With infinite scorn, infinite weariness.) Look at him. He’s the law. He’s done his duty. He’s got his man. He’ll git a reward.

You cain’t shet me up. I’m a fool not to a-told you before. I’m a fool too—like yerself—like Butch—like the whole damn world! I been a fool. But I won’t be now. I’ll tell you now—now it’s too late—I’ll tell you sump’n ’at’ll make yer ears burn, ’at’ll make you sick inside like sump’n eatin’ on yer heart! Listen t’ me—you! You’re bright, you’re smart, you’re a keen-smellin’ dog of the law, you’re the law! You pertect the weak, you hang the criminals. You shoot down, you murder innocent people—that’s w’at you do! (With a sob.) It uz Butch, it uz Butch killed Jim Dory....

Butch, I tell you! This boy ain’t his brother. He never saw him before. He’s jist a boy, jist a young boy—picknickin’—in the woods—

(He looks at Elly. She does not flinch. He looks back at the Sheriff. Speaks slowly.) I killed him.

Christamighty! You killed Jim Dory? You killed this boy too, then! You done it! ’Twuzn’t me!

How could you do it! Two men—an’ this pore innocent little girl! God! Why’d you do it? Whut made you?

What’s the matter? I heard shots! (She catches sight of the bodies.) Oh! What is it? Lloyd and Betty! Good heavens!

Oh, my poor little children! My poor little ones! (To Butch, gratefully, noticing his wet clothes.) Oh, you tried to save them! God will reward you! (Butch turns away.) Poor little Betty— Lloyd was good to her. Oh, why’d they go on the lake! Why’d they do it? I told them not to. (She turns away, sobbing.)

It’s alwys the way. People will go on the lake. Young people. Cain’t keep ’em off. ’N’ they’s alwys accidents. Sometimes it’s the lake, sometimes it’s the woods—boats leak, guns go off, people air keerless, they’s wild animals—sump’n happens, sump’n alwys happens. It cain’t be helped.—

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Betty	Helen Coburn
Lloyd	Frank Burk
Elly	Stella Adler
Butch	Grover Burgess
Sheriff	Louis V. Quince
Plank	John S. Clarke, Jr.
Joe	Francis Fergusson
Miss Meredith	Frances Williams
Bud Bickel	Sam Hartman
The Davis Boy	Harold Hecht

The Project Gutenberg eBook of Big lake

BIG LAKE

FOREWORD

PART ONE

CHARACTERS

THE WOODS

Scene 1

Scene 2

PART TWO

THE LAKE

Scene 1

Scene 2

THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE

Betty
Lloyd
“Butch” Adams
Elly
Sheriff
Joe	}deputies
Plank
Miss Meredith
Bud Bickel
The Davis Boy
Country-School Boys and Girls