COL. On the anxious seat, are you? (_Giving hand to_ BIJAH.) I can at least wish you success. BIJAH (_salutes_). Thank you, sir. COL. Major, if you see a small darky about here, it is all right. He crossed the lines, and I will take care of him. POTTS. Very well, sir. He shall not be molested. (POTTS _and_ BIJAH _salute as_ COLONEL _exits past guard, who salutes_; MAJOR _seats himself on end of log_ R.; BIJAH _walks up and down_.) POTTS. But tell me more of this Newcomb, Bijah. What can be his motive in planning the colonel's death? BIJAH. Wal, before Mr. Roger's sister married Colonel Graham, Newcomb was all-fired gone on her. I know, for I was about Baltimore at the time and heard no end of gossip. You see, Mrs. Graham didn't take to him, and snubbed him on all occasions. By Jiminy, wasn't he mad! The whole truth of the matter is, he's bound to be revenged, and takes what's nearest and dearest. He was the means of the colonel's injury, and I'm scared blue for fear that he will try it again. Roger Carruth has his eye on him, for he has a double debt to pay. (PETE _heard playing banjo inside tent_.) POTTS. What's this? (_Goes to tent and brings_ PETE, _holding banjo, down stage_; BIJAH _follows_.) Who are you? PETE. Please; massa, I's only Pete. POTTS. Where did you come from? PETE. Ober dar, massa, and de colonel he's gwine to let me stay wid him. POTTS. Well, give us a tune. PETE (_salutes_). Deed, massa, dis yer belongs to de colonel; 'specs he wouldn't like to hab me gib yer dat. POTTS. Yes, he will; I can answer for that. PETE. All right, massa. I'll play de bes I know. POTTS. Good, and here's a quarter for inspiration. (PETE _salutes, takes coin, and seats himself on floor_ C. POTTS _sits on camp-stool_; PETE _plays and sings a negro melody_; SOLDIERS _appear and group at back, listening_.) POTTS. Bravo, bravo! (SOLDIERS _applaud, then gradually disperse_.) I tell you what, Bijah, music and a song like that cheer a man up. If we have many more days of dead calm and quiet, I shall be tempted to desert the cause and soothe my troubled spirit with the society of some fair maiden. BIJAH (_turns_ PETE _around; laughs at coat_). You're a great one, you are. Where did you get that coat? PETE. Massa Colonel gib me dat; he's heaps good to me, he is. I takes care ob eberyting, and I's his guard. BIJAH. His what? Guard? Oh, ho! You mean body-guard. (_Whistles; aside._) Wal, I vum, here's an idea. We'll work him. (_To_ PETE.) Go back to your work, Pete. (PETE _goes into tent_.) Major, I have an idea. (POTTS _comes down front_; BIJAH _takes his arm_.) POTTS. Isn't it rather dangerous to give it away?