Indians).
With my kind brothers! (Quickly, seeing that Black Fish's back is
turned.) March bravely, lads. Remember Boonesborough!

PRITCHARD
(moved).
Your hand, Boone.

BOONE
(clasping Pritchard's hand).
My comrade!

[They look at each other a long moment. Then the line, Indian-guarded,
and led by Hawk Eye, marches out, left.

BLACK FISH
Now we make a great feast. Celebrate.

[They all sit on ground. War-pipe is passed. Gourds with grape wine.
Dried fish. Dried fruits. General hum of excitement and pleasure.
Animated and colorful groups. Boone smokes the war-pipe when it is
passed to him. Drinks and eats freely with the others. Through it all,
now soft, now loud, sounds the drone of the war-drum. Now and again a
young buck yells jubilantly, or ejaculates a shrill "_E-yah!_" of
pleasure. They rise from feasting to dance in a war-circle about the
drum, right. Boone does a few steps with them, and then retreats to
left of stage. More dances. Speeches with short guttural words and
grunts. Waving of tomahawks. Shrill cries. Another circle is formed
about the war-drum. Attention drifts away from Boone. Finally, after a
second dance about the war-drum Eagle's Feather gives a sudden cry of