Handed down from our fathers? When we start Alarmed in the night, is it the past we fear? There is no past to things that have been dead. It is a scabbard empty of its sword. What shall we do? Accept their Faith? HARTZEL-- No, no. CANZLER--Without it, we must steal the air we breath And thank Val-father if we get it then. Their blades are out; shall we not lift our shields? Wolves are we? Wolves are not hunted so. Bears have the caves; must our cave be the grave? There is no room there. How then can we die? After his great meal, Death hath lain him down. Famine, the gleaner, has the field. There is No plot unreaped, no sheaf unflailed. The barns Are stuffed to breaking with the dead. And we, In this great carnage, in this harvest-home, The last few straws whisked from the threshing-floor, Hunted by that old Hunger of the south From field to wood, from wood to darker wood, Far up strange rivers and--down under them-- Hartzel, remember; when we fall, there goes Down the whole North. We alone stand. Of all Val-father's oaks, there's but one acorn left That can re-forest and make green the North. Rudolph and you and I and the rest, save one, Are, as it were, its protecting shell. Off there, A sword is coming toward us, and shall we With hands down take the point and hear the unborn Wail of that child that should have filled the north With shouts and wound his horn upon its hills? Behind him, in array, the dead tribes come On fire for the south; their umbered shields Upon the gunwales lour; and shall the snake Swallow the haven where that host must land? See the North die? Never. (_He turns as if to call Rudolph._) HARTZEL--Accept their Faith, We need not. CANZLER--Die? HARTZEL--We need not. (_A pause._) We might flee. CANZLER-- (_Emphatically._) Canzler will never vote to flee. FRITZ-- Hear that? Canzler will never vote to flee. (_Coming forward._) Nor Fritz, chief. CANZLER--Where could we flee? FRITZ-- We have already fled. CANZLER--No. (_Hartzel turns and, with his face to the ground, walks slowly left._) RUDOLPH--Canzler, listen to me. (_Unnoticed, Conrad appears coming through the trees on the right. Several young squirrels hang from the belt about his waist and in his right hand is a cross-bow. Upon his left shoulder he carries the crucifix which he has_ _pulled up, post and all._) CANZLER-- The red ax They swung at Verden swings clear round the North And her great head falls. (_With a jolt Conrad sets the crucifix down and leans it against one of the large trees._)