[Wahnotee _runs on, pulls down apron--sees_ Paul, _lying on ground-- speaks to him--thinks he's shamming sleep--gesticulates and jabbers-- goes to him--moves him with feet, then kneels down to rouse him--to his horror finds him dead--expresses great grief--raises his eyes-- they fall upon the camera--rises with savage growl, seizes tomahawk and smashes camera to pieces, then goes to Paul--expresses grief, sorrow, and fondness, and takes him in his arms to carry him away.-- Tableau._] END OF THE SECOND ACT. ACT III. _A Room in Mrs. Peyton's house; entrances,_ R. U. E. _and_ L. U. E.--_An Auction Bill stuck up,_ L.--_chairs,_ C., _and tables,_ R. _and_ L. Solon _and_ Grace _discovered._ _Pete._ [_Outside,_ R. U. E.] Dis way--dis way. _Enter_ Pete, Pointdexter, Jackson, Lafouche, _and_ Caillou, R. U. E. _Pete._ Dis way, gen'l'men; now Solon--Grace--dey's hot and tirsty--sangaree, brandy, rum. _Jackson._ Well, what d'ye say, Lafouche--d'ye smile? _Enter_ Thibodeaux _and_ Sunnyside, R. U. E. _Thibo._ I hope we don't intrude on the family. _Pete._ You see dat hole in dar, sar. [R. U. E.] I was raised on dis yar plantation--neber see no door in it--always open, sar, for stranger to walk in. _Sunny._ And for substance to walk out. _Enter_ Ratts, R. U. E. _Ratts._ Fine southern style that, eh! _Lafouche._ [_Reading bill._] "A fine, well-built old family mansion, replete with every comfort." _Ratts._ There's one name on the list of slaves scratched, I see. _Lafouche._ Yes; No. 49, Paul, a quadroon boy, aged thirteen. _Sunny._ He's missing. _Point._ Run away, I suppose. _Pete._ [_Indignantly._] No, sar; nigger nebber cut stick on Terrebonne; dat boy's dead, sure. _Ratts._ What, Picayune Paul, as we called, him, that used to come aboard my boat?--poor little darkey, I Hope not; many a picayune he picked up for his dance and nigger-songs, and he supplied our table with fish and game from the Bayous. _Pete._ Nebber supply no more, sar--nebber dance again. Mas'r Ratts, you hard him sing about de place where de good niggers go, de last time. _Ratts._ Well! _Pete._ Well, he gone dar hisself; why, I tink so--'cause we missed Paul for some days, but nebber tout nothin' till one night dat Injiun Wahnotee suddenly stood right dar 'mongst us--was in his war paint, and mighty cold and grave--he sit down by de fire. "Whar's Paul?" I say--he smoke and smoke, but nebber look out ob de fire; well knowing dem critters, I wait a long time--den he say, "Wahnotee, great chief;" den I say nothing--smoke anoder time--last, rising to go, he turn round at door, and say berry low--O, like a woman's voice, he say, "Omenee Pangeuk,"--dat is, Paul is dead--nebber see him since. _Ratts._ That red-skin killed him. _Sunny._ So we believe; and so mad are the folks around, if they catch the red-skin they'll lynch him sure.