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OregonTrail1.xml
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<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?>
<?xml-model href="../sch/wea.rng" type="application/xml" schematypens="http://relaxng.org/ns/structure/1.0"?>
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<TEI xmlns="http://www.tei-c.org/ns/1.0" xml:id="OregonTrail1">
<teiHeader>
<fileDesc>
<titleStmt>
<title>Oregon Trail</title>
<respStmt>
<resp>Transcriber</resp>
<name ref="pers:LW1">Leean Wu</name>
</respStmt>
<respStmt>
<resp>Proofreader</resp>
<name ref="pers:LW1">Leean Wu</name>
</respStmt>
<respStmt>
<resp>Encoder</resp>
<name ref="pers:LW1">Leean Wu</name>
</respStmt>
</titleStmt>
<publicationStmt>
<p>Publication Information</p>
</publicationStmt>
<sourceDesc>
<msDesc>
<msIdentifier>
<repository ref="org:WERFonds">Winnifred Eaton Reeve Fonds</repository>
<idno>11.15</idno>
</msIdentifier>
<msContents>
<msItem>
<bibl xml:id="bibl266"><author><name ref="pers:WE1">Winnifred
Reeve</name></author>. <title level="a">Oregon Trail</title>. ms., <date
notBefore="1917" notAfter="1935">1917-1935</date>, <distributor
ref="org:WERFonds">Winnifred Eaton Reeve Fonds</distributor>,
<idno>11.15</idno>.</bibl>
</msItem>
</msContents>
<additional>
<adminInfo>
<availability>
<p>Facsimile provided by Jean Lee Cole.</p>
</availability>
</adminInfo>
<surrogates>
<!--Add other editions of this text using a bibl element with a target pointing to its bibl-->
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<bibl target="bibl:ABCD1"/>
<bibl><distributor/>, <idno/></bibl>
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<catRef scheme="wdt:genre" target="wdt:genreFilm"/>
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</profileDesc>
<revisionDesc status="published">
<change who="pers:LW1" when="2024-04-25" status="published">Corrected typos.</change>
<change who="pers:LW1" when="2024-01-29" status="published">Proofing.</change>
<change who="pers:LW1" when="2024-01-13" status="published">Proofing and encoding complete.
Future changes to tags are welcome.</change>
<change who="pers:JT1" when="2023-11-23" status="readyForProof">Added citation from
bibliography.xml to <gi>sourceDesc</gi> using utilities/msdesc.xsl.</change>
<change who="pers:LW1" when="2024-01-01" status="readyForProof">Testing view vs p.</change>
<change who="pers:LW1" when="2023-11-11" status="readyForProof">encoding
completed.</change>
<change who="pers:LW1" when="2023-11-10" status="inProgress">encoding until sequence
J</change>
<change who="pers:LW1" when="2023-08-28" status="inProgress">encoding</change>
<change who="pers:LW1" when="2023-08-28" status="inProgress">encoding</change>
<change who="pers:JT1" when="2023-08-24" status="inProgress">With <name ref="pers:LW1"/>,
experimenting with encoding screenplays.</change>
<change who="pers:SL1" when="2023-04-02" status="empty">Added facsimile and note about
source.</change>
<change who="pers:JT1" when="2023-04-02" status="empty">Adding <gi>relatedItem</gi>s and
<gi>notesStmt</gi>.</change>
<change who="pers:SL1" when="2022-03-12" status="empty">Added catREF info.</change>
<change who="pers:JT1" when="2020-07-30" status="empty">Created shell from bibl
file.</change>
</revisionDesc>
</teiHeader>
<text facs="facs:Oregon_Trail">
<pb n="titlePage"/>
<body>
<opener>
<byline>Original Story for Screen</byline>
</opener>
<head>OREGON TRAIL</head>
<byline>By</byline>
<byline><name ref="pers:WE1">WINNIFRED REEVE</name></byline>
<div>
<milestone unit="page"/>
</div>
<div>
<pb n="1."/>
<opener>
<byline>Original Story for Screen based on novel by</byline>
<byline><name ref="pers:WE1">Winnifred Reeve</name>.</byline>
</opener>
<head>THE OREGON TRAIL</head>
<opener>
<byline>By</byline>
<byline><name ref="pers:WE1">Winnifred Reeve</name></byline>
</opener>
<div>
<div>
<pb n="A-1"/>
<head>SEQUENCE A</head>
<camera>FADE IN:</camera>
<stage type="setting">An Indian Village.</stage>
<p>From out of the sky vaguely and hazily, swooping down over the village comes
the emaciated and ghostly figure of FAMINE.</p>
<stage type="setting">The Village itself is revealed in a state of destitution and
misery.</stage>
<view>Against the skyline appear four fiery columns of smoke, and at the same time
is heard <sound>the arousing beat of Indian drums.</sound> This is the Indian
summons to a counsel.</view>
<view>There is a stir in the village and the Indians are seen leaving their tents
and wigwams. Like a swarm of shadows they plod and push dumbly along toward a
hill slope.</view>
<pb n="A-2"/>
<fw type="pageNum">A-2</fw>
<view>On the crest of the hill a young Indian chief stands silhouetted against the
sky. His arms are extended, his face is passionate and exalted. Below him, on
the slope of the hill, is the great congregation of silent Indians. The young
chief addresses them.</view>
<p>He tells them that unless the white men are driven from the Indian hunting
grounds the Indian will not live throughout the coming winter. Already they are
dying like flies from starvation and plague. No longer do the buffalo roam the
plains and prairies. The deer have gone from the forests. The white men have
slaughtered the natural food of the Indian for their fur and hides. Now a horde
of white people have gathered at Independence and are preparing to invade the
Oregon lands in overwhelming numbers. They are forerunners of the hosts of
whites who seek to rob the Indian of the land of his forefathers. Unless they
are driven back the Indians will starve to death or be forced out of his own
lands. The time has come when the Indian must repel the advance of these white
people. They must be prevented from crossing the Cascades.</p>
<sound>His words are greeted by savage cheers.</sound>
<view>Through the clamoring throngs a very old chief pushes his way to the fore
until he comes alongside the young chief on the brow of the hill. He raises his
hands to command silence.</view>
<pb n="A-3"/>
<fw type="pageNum">A-3</fw>
<sp>
<speaker>Old Chief</speaker>
<p>I have hung the scalps of many white men upon my belt - but always came
<emph>more</emph> white men!</p>
</sp>
<sp>
<speaker>Young Chief</speaker>
<p>They shall come no more!</p>
</sp>
<sp>
<speaker>Old Chief</speaker>
<p>They are rich! We are poor! They are many! We are few! Their government is
powerful and remorseless. The Indian has no friends but his brothers.</p>
</sp>
<sp>
<speaker>Young Chief</speaker>
<p>Are our hearts those of rabbits? Shall we lie down and permit the white man
to trample upon us?</p>
</sp>
<view>The old chief tries to raise his voice above the roar. The young chief
places his arm about the old chief’s shoulders and commands silence - old age
must be respected.</view>
<sp>
<speaker>Old Chief</speaker>
<p>War is terrible! Let us deal with the chiefs of these white people! Let us
demand justice!</p>
</sp>
<sp>
<speaker>Young Chief</speaker>
<p>For justice they will give - promises! Who can believe the word of a white
man? We must drive them back! </p>
</sp>
<sp>
<speaker>Old Chief</speaker>
<p>We cannot dam up the ocean with our hands.</p>
</sp>
<pb n="A-3-A"/>
<fw type="pageNum">A-3-A</fw>
<sp>
<speaker>YOUNG CHIEF</speaker>
<stage type="delivery">(shouting)</stage>
<p>The Thunder God fights within us! Ee-yah! Eeii---ya-a-a-a!</p>
</sp>
<view><sound>The Indians take up the cry. They begin to circle, screaming and
shouting and yelling,</sound> as they move in a savage war dance.</view>
<camera>FADE OUT.</camera>
</div>
<div>
<head>SEQUENCE B</head>
<camera>FADE IN</camera>
<stage type="setting">A trail winding around the side of a precipitous canyon
wall.</stage>
<stage type="modifier">Two riders are loping along. Their outfit consists of their
horses, surefooted, swift and tough Indian ponies, and two pack mules, in
charge of an Indian who plods along behind. The older of the two men is Ren
Bullock. He is tall, long-legged, with hair the color of corn-shuck and a long
lean body. His eyes are clear and his face tanned. He has a look of
intelligence and honesty and is as strong as a young ox. He is a Missourian.
His speech is slow and drawling. He hesitates before speaking as if weighing
his words. He never hurries, yet, at the right moment, seems literally to
spring like lightning into vivid action and life.</stage>
<stage type="modifier">His companion is of a totally different type. A happy go
lucky, light-hearted, carless, pleasure-loving and likeable young chap with a
natural quality of refinement about him. He goes by the name of Thad Jones. The
two men are close pals, and partners.</stage>
<view>As they ride along, Ren sitting loosely ahorse, and looking out silently
before him and Thad whirling his lariat and whistling the night begins to fall
softly around them. The wind sings in the pine tops and through the canyon
walls. A silvery sunlight, a glow of fading red still lingers in the sky. Ren
points vaguely. </view>
<pb n="B-2."/>
<fw type="pageNum">B-2.</fw>
<sp>
<speaker>REN</speaker>
<p>That’s one plumb fine sight - that thar sunset.</p>
</sp>
<stage type="action">Thad laughs. It is natural for him to laugh.</stage>
<sp>
<speaker>THAD</speaker>
<p>I’ve seen prettier sunsets than that in Kentucky.</p>
</sp>
<sp>
<speaker>REN</speaker>
<p>You come from Kentucky? You never told me that before.</p>
</sp>
<sp>
<speaker>THAD</speaker>
<stage type="delivery">(uneasily)</stage>
<p>That’s right- I’ve never told anyone. Mebbe <note type="editorial"
>Maybe</note> I had a reason.</p>
</sp>
<stage type="action">Ren nods understandingly.</stage>
<view>The shadows deepen about them. They top the brow of a hill and draw rein to
look down across a great sweep of plain. There, in a wide valley below them,
the flares of a score of campfires are seen.</view>
<sp>
<speaker>THAD</speaker>
<p>How many are there?</p>
</sp>
<sp>
<speaker>REN</speaker>
<p>Two thousand.</p>
</sp>
<sp>
<speaker>THAD</speaker>
<stage type="delivery">(Anxiously)</stage>
<p>That’s a considerable job you’ve taken on. Think you can pilot two thousand
immigrants into the Oregon?</p>
</sp>
<sp>
<speaker>REN</speaker>
<stage type="action">(with a wry smile)</stage>
<p>What me? Reckon I’ll be lookin’ for a heap a help from you young one.</p>
</sp>
<pb n="B-3"/>
<fw type="pageNum">B-3</fw>
<sp>
<speaker>THAD</speaker>
<stage type="action">(chest swelling)</stage>
<p>Well I reckon we can manage somehow.</p>
</sp>
<sound>Sound of music and singing comes floating upon the air.</sound>
<sp>
<speaker>THAD</speaker>
<p>Listen to them singing. Sounds like gospel hymns.</p>
</sp>
<sp>
<speaker>REN</speaker>
<stage type="action">(nodding)</stage>
<p>They’s a powerful lot of religion ‘mong them. Guess we better be driftin’
along. They’ll be lookin’ for us.</p>
</sp>
<sp>
<speaker>THAD</speaker>
<p>Let’s go on into the town first. I got a parched throat and an empty
stomach. And I’m aiming to stretch out on a real bed.</p>
</sp>
<stage type="action">Ren gives him a good humored thump on the back.</stage>
<sp>
<speaker>REN</speaker>
<p>We’ll ride on into the town and look up our friends down thar later.</p>
</sp>
<stage type="action">They turn their <choice>
<sic>horses</sic>
<corr>horses’</corr>
</choice> heads and move off.</stage>
<milestone unit="scene"/>
<stage type="setting">THE IMMIGRANT ENCAMPMENT</stage>
<stage type="location">This is a large field or plain on the outskirts of the town
of Independence (now a part of Kansas City). Here a host of immigrants,
hunters, trappers, voyageurs, traders, gamblers, adventurers, missionaries,
teachers, farmers, as well as the rag tag and bobtail and outcasts of the
frontier <pb n="B-4."/><fw type="pageNum">B-4.</fw> town have gathered from all
parts of the country to keep a rendezvous at the starting off place for the
Oregon trail.</stage>
<view>Vehicles of all manner and kind form an immense circle about a central
point.</view>
<tech type="light">The flares of campfires, stream up, flooding the place with a
mellow light, illuminating the faces of these hardy adventurers and
pioneers.</tech>
<stage type="novelistic">In a way this scene should parallel the Indian scene in
as much as the immigrants are addressed by their commander in chief Colonel
Blair Appleton.</stage>
<view>The Colonel is a man of striking appearance, six feet four, stalwart and
strong in spite of his sixty-five years. His glance is keen and piercing from
under beetling brows. His carriage is military yet his whole personality
emanates a fine graciousness and cheer.</view>
<p>He thanks the immigrants for electing his commander in chief. He tells them
that they are about to set out into an unknown country - a country reputed to
be a land of Milk and Honey. In glowing words he paints Oregon - the richness
of its soil - the trees loaded with fruit - the streams abounding in fish; the
forest alive with game; to say nothing of the fabulous possibilities from trade
with the Indians; the pelts of beaver, of silver-fox, of mink, of ermine and
other fur-bearing animals. He <choice>
<sic>declaires</sic>
<corr>declares</corr>
</choice> Oregon to be the greatest agricultural country in the world needing
only the courageous pioneers to break its soil and dig from its bowels its
mineral wealth.</p>
<pb n="B-5."/>
<fw type="pageNum">B-5.</fw>
<camera>The camera pans around the circle of faces of the pioneers. Nearly every
man and woman there is inspired by hope and the desire to reach the <q>Promised
Land</q>. Their commander’s words evoke the wildest enthusiasm and
excitement and he is cheered to the echo.</camera>
<view>We show Colonel Appleton’s own wagon. This is an especially fine covered
wagon, practically a moving household.</view>
<view>Standing up on the back step of the wagon looking out over the heads of the
engrossed crowd is the Colonel’s pretty daughter, Sally Lou. She is thrilled
and excited and does not hesitate to join in the applause for her
father.</view>
<stage type="mixed">From behind Sally comes out of the wagon Mandy, an old black
nurse and nanny. Nanny beams at the loudly clapping Sally Lou but her attention
is distracted by a less pleasing object. From around the side of the wagon a
tall black boy with a bullet head and rolling eyes comes slouching lazily to
the fore, a bucket in his hand which spills and shakes as Mose moves along.
Just as he comes under where Sally is standing Mose puts his thumb and
fore-finger into his mouth and <sound>lets out a most unearthly
whistle.</sound> Mandy casts one enraged glance at Mose and then reaching
her left foot she gives him a hard prod on the head knocking him over and the
pail of water spilling as he falls.</stage>
<milestone unit="line"/>
<stage type="setting">SALOON AND DANCE HALL</stage>
<stage type="location">This is the town of Independence.</stage>
<view>The atmosphere of the place is smoky and sultry. <pb n="B-6."/><fw
type="pageNum">B-6.</fw> rough men of all sorts and kind are about the place
gambling, making love to the girls, drinking and lining the bar.</view>
<p>Here are dark French Canadian Voyageurs, long blonde Missourians, Mexicans,
Swedes, Yanks, Jews, Englishmen, big fellows from the frontier towns.</p>
<view><choice>
<sic>Handsfull</sic>
<corr>Hands full</corr>
</choice> of silver are thrown or slapped down upon the bar. All comers are
treated regardless.</view>
<view><sound>The fiddles scrape and the music rises above the discordant murmurs
and imprecations.</sound> Buxom girls of all colors spin out upon the floor.
They are grabbed by the men, whooping with delight, and they thumping or
spinning with them across the floor. Near fights or real ones are precipitated
and averted.</view>
<view>One black eyed girl - she is known as Black Eyed Susan is the center of a
group of men all clamoring to dance or drink with her. Sue has large, bold,
roving eyes. Everyone is asking her where Bull is and she says he’s somewhere
in town. One fellow says; <q>Well don’t tell on me</q>! He pinches her on the
backside and gives her a good smack on the lips. Susan though she laughs gives
him a push.</view>
<p>The one subject of conversation everywhere is - OREGON. Everybody is talking of
Oregon, and the immense train of Immigrants starting out for Oregon lands. Even
the dancing girls talk Oregon to their partners. <view>Some of them ask the men
if they are going too, and when the men nod, <pb n="B-7"/><fw type="pageNum"
>B-7</fw> they pretend to bid them mock farewells, saying that the man
who goes into Oregon never comes out</view>. They make jokes about not
liking baldheads, and the Indians always get their men. They think it funny to
suggest that 2000 scalps will make a splendid carpet for Indian wigwams. They
say that Immigrant scalps are especially soft. </p>
<view>In one of the rooms of the saloon, Bull Doreen and his men are also
discussing the Immigrants. Bull is a huge, brutal looking customer. He wears a
red flannel shirt and buckskin breeches. His knife is stuck in his belt, his
gun on his hip.</view>
<p>Bull has done a profitable and illicit trade among the Indians, supposedly as a
trapper; in reality as a vendor of corn whiskey and rum. The Indians have
cached away immense quantities of valuable silver fox and beaver pelts. Bull is
anxious to get up into the country to trade his booze for this fur, before the
immigrants pour in. If once they settle upon the land; if in fact they reach
the Williamette valley<note type="editorial" resp="pers:LW1">Eaton is likely
referring to Oregon’s Willamette Valley which is written throughout the
screenplay as <q>Williamette</q>.</note> ahead of Bull’s outfit, his
business will be ruined. Already too many immigrants have gone through. Now
this largest of all trains - 2000 strong - will spread over the Indian lands
like locusts. It will mean the end of Bull’s trade with the Indians.</p>
<milestone unit="line"/>
<view>In the saloon, some commotion and stir is occasioned by the arrival of the
two young scouts Ren and Thad. They are popular and well known, and their
entrance is greeted with whoops. The young fellows goodnaturedly set up the
drinks for the crowd.</view>
<pb n="B-8."/>
<fw type="pageNum">B-8.</fw>
<view>Bull and his men have also come into the saloon, and at a signal from Bull
Susan speeds to his side. He gives her some orders, and she nods and hurries to
obey him. Susan insinuates her way through the crowd till she manages to come
alongside Thad and slips her hand through his arm. Thad has had a couple of
drinks and is in high good humor. He looks down his shoulder and meets Susan’s
black seductive eyes.</view>
<sp>
<speaker>SUSAN</speaker>
<p>‘Lo Thad! Gee, I’m sure glad to see you. Where you been?</p>
</sp>
<sp>
<speaker>THAD</speaker>
<p>I’m glad to see you too, Susy. I’ve been up in the woods for sometime.</p>
</sp>
<sp>
<speaker>SUSAN</speaker>
<p>Pretty lonesome, ain’t it? You was always fond of good times.</p>
</sp>
<sp>
<speaker>THAD</speaker>
<stage type="delivery">(uneasily, yet affected)</stage>
<p>Well, I got into a peck of trouble with good times.</p>
</sp>
<view>Ren, leaning against the bar, with a couple of girls interposing between him
and his partner. Ren gives a wry squint across at the pair, and then as the
bartender puts another drink before Thad, and as Thad picks it up, Ren reaches
a long arm across and takes the glass from his hand. His action is good
humored, but firm. There is a squall of protest.</view>
<sp>
<speaker>REN</speaker>
<p>Guess we better be driftin’ along <pb n="B-9."/><fw type="pageNum">B-9.</fw>
partner. Them immigrants is waitin’ fer us.</p>
</sp>
<p>The girls and men make remarks:</p>
<sp>
<p><q>Let ’em wait</q>.</p>
</sp>
<sp>
<p><q>What’s the hurry</q>?</p>
</sp>
<sp>
<p><q>You’ll be a long time on the trail with those psalm singing folk. Wait a
bit</q>!</p>
</sp>
<view>And so forth. Susan is hanging tight onto Thad, and her body is pressed
against him. Thad’s glance shifts from his pal to Sue. he feels a bit sheepish. </view>
<milestone unit="line"/>
<sp>
<speaker>SUSAN</speaker>
<p>Gee, I’ve missed you! The town’s not been the same since you left.</p>
</sp>
<p>Ren’s attention is turned from his pal, by Bull’s greeting. </p>
<sp>
<speaker>BULL</speaker>
<p>How’re you -- Ren Bullock?</p>
</sp>
<stage type="action">Ren slowly turns, and still leaning up against the bar he
looks with a queer, quizzical slowly sizing up glance at Bull Dorien. </stage>
<sp>
<speaker>BULL</speaker>
<p>What you doin’ in Independence?</p>
</sp>
<sp>
<speaker>REN</speaker>
<p>What me?</p>
</sp>
<sp>
<speaker>BULL</speaker>
<p>Thought you was up in the Oregon. </p>
</sp>
<sp>
<speaker>REN</speaker>
<p>What me? </p>
</sp>
<pb n="B-10."/>
<fw type="pageNum">B-10.</fw>
<sp>
<speaker>BULL</speaker>
<p>How’s tradin’ and trappin’ up to the North? </p>
</sp>
<sp>
<speaker>REN</speaker>
<p>You oughter know. You wuz up there recent - talkin’ with your Indian
friends, wasn’t you? </p>
</sp>
<view>Bull glares. Ren grins. His grin is not without a touch of boyish malice.
Almost lazily and reluctantly he slouches a bit nearer to the black browed
Bull. Bull’s glance goes by Ren. his eyes bore like gimlets into Susan’s. Hers
reflect their momentary fear. </view>
<view>Thad, as his pal moves toward Bull, half starts to follow. The bartender has
set another glass before Susan. She lifts it first toward her own lips and then
coaxingly toward his. Thad holds back a moment; but the liquor and Susan’s eyes
are too much for the weak Thad. he swallows, licks and smacks his lips. Another
glass slid across the bar. Thad glances at it wistfully out of the tail of his
eye. Susan lifts it to his lips. He holds back a moment, and then, his eyes on
Susan he downs it. Susan plucks at his sleeve. She puts her lips against his
ear and whispers. Thad’s <choice>
<sic>drousy</sic>
<corr>drowsy</corr>
</choice> eyes glean with awakening desire, for Susan’s body is pressed against
his. He swallows, his head nodding. They move off. </view>
<view>Ren does not see them go. Elbow on bar, his back against it, Ren’s wry
glance is on Bull. Bull shifts his tobacco, spits, waits for the smiling Ren to
speak. Ren says not a word. </view>
<pb n="B-11"/>
<fw type="pageNum">B-11</fw>
<sp>
<speaker>BULL</speaker>
<p>Hear tell yo’re plannin’ to steer them Immigrants up to the Williamette.
</p>
</sp>
<sp>
<speaker>REN</speaker>
<p>What me? </p>
</sp>
<sp>
<speaker>BULL</speaker>
<p>What trail you aimin’ to go by?</p>
</sp>
<view>Ren pushes back his wide hat, scratches his head thoughtfully. </view>
<sp>
<speaker>REN</speaker>
<p>Which would you take if you was me? </p>
</sp>
<sp>
<speaker>BULL</speaker>
<p>You’ll never get across the Divide with them wagons. </p>
</sp>
<sp>
<speaker>REN</speaker>
<p>Reckon you’re right.</p>
</sp>
<sp>
<speaker>BULL</speaker>
<p>And there ain’t a chance of them green tenderfeet crossin’ the Columbia
neither.</p>
</sp>
<sp>
<speaker>REN</speaker>
<p>Now you got me worried. </p>
</sp>
<view>Bull slouches nearer to him. He lowers his voice to a husky whisper.</view>
<sp>
<speaker>BULL</speaker>
<p>That ain’t no man’s job -- playin’ nursemaid to a bunch of soft immigrants.
</p>
</sp>
<view>Ren considers this, screwing up his eyes thoughtfully.</view>
<sp>
<speaker>REN</speaker>
<p>Mebbe you’re right.</p>
</sp>
<pb n="B-12"/>
<fw type="pageNum">B-12</fw>
<sp>
<speaker>BULL</speaker>
<p> What’re they payin’ you? </p>
</sp>
<sp>
<speaker>REN</speaker>
<p> We--cl-- the price ain’t exactly set yet.</p>
</sp>
<p>Bull comes back quickly this time.</p>
<sp>
<speaker>BULL</speaker>
<p> Whatever they offer -- I’ll double -- see?</p>
</sp>
<view>Ren raises his eyes wide with apparent surprise and unholy joy.</view>
<sp>
<speaker>REN</speaker>
<p> Thought you knew the Oregon Country better than I did. </p>
</sp>
<sp>
<speaker>BULL</speaker>
<p> So I do. I ain’t hirin’ you for a guide. </p>
</sp>
<view>Ren’s manner is guileless and friendly. His eye now lifts unquestioningly.
He lets the other do the talking.</view>
<sp>
<speaker>BULL</speaker>
<p> Without guides them Immigrants can’t get beyond the Dalles. They’ll never
get across the Columbia. There ain’t no other guides to be had. </p>
</sp>
<sp>
<speaker>REN</speaker>
<p> That so? </p>
</sp>
<sp>
<speaker>BULL</speaker>
<stage type="delivery">(confidentially)</stage>
<p>You know it. What’s more we don’t want them Immigrants up in the Oregon.
They aint’ good for nothin’. They’ll spread <pb n="B-13"/><fw type="pageNum"
>B-13</fw> all over the land like lice.</p>
</sp>
<view>Ren appears to be impressed.</view>
<sp>
<speaker>REN</speaker>
<p> I hadn’t thought a that. </p>
</sp>
<sp>
<speaker>BULL</speaker>
<p> The Oregon ain’t no country for the likes a them. The Indians aren’t
lookin’ for no religion. What they want is booze. </p>
</sp>
<sp>
<speaker>REN</speaker>
<p> I’m thinkin’ what the Indians need is -- food. </p>
</sp>
<sp>
<speaker>BULL</speaker>
<p> Well where they gonna get the good if them Immigrants settle on their land?
</p>
</sp>
<sp>
<speaker>REN</speaker>
<p> It ain’t the Immigrants that’s poison to the Indians. They’ll do a fair and
honest trade with them. It’s the fellows with the Booze that ---</p>
</sp>
<view>He stops abruptly and smiles at Bull.</view>
<sp>
<speaker>REN</speaker>
<p> Fergot all about that bein’ ye’re game, Bull. </p>
</sp>
<sp>
<speaker>BULL</speaker>
<stage type="delivery"> (angry) </stage>
<p>It don’t make no different what my game is. I put a proposition up to ya. Is
it yes or no? </p>
</sp>
<sp>
<speaker>REN</speaker>
<stage type="delivery"> (considering) </stage>
<p> I’ll talk it over with my pardner -- </p>
</sp>
<pb n="B-14"/>
<fw type="pageNum">B-14</fw>
<view>He glances toward where Thad had been, and straightens up.</view>
<sp>
<speaker>Ren</speaker>
<p> Well guess I’ll drift. See you later. </p>
</sp>
<view>He moves away, strolling lazily along, good-naturedly pushing aside the
girls that come around him, or pausing to joke, throwing a handful of silver on
the bar and treating all hands except himself, and <q>drifting</q> off
gradually till he comes to a door, giving upon an alley way and exits. </view>
<view>Once outside, his careless lazy manner changes. He is alert, as he looks
swiftly about him. With a hand to the side of his mouth he gives forth <sound>a
peculiar whistle three times.</sound> At first there is no response.
<sound>Ren whistles again.</sound>
</view>
<view>From a room at the far end of the alley, where a dim light shows comes
somewhat waveringly <sound>Thad’s answering whistle.</sound> Ren wheels about,
and is off in the direction from which the whistle has come. </view>
<milestone unit="line"/>
<stage type="setting">THE IMMIGRANT ENCAMPMENT</stage>
<stage type="setting">The camp presents a cheerful appearance. Groups of cattle,
horse and other stock are grazing on the prairie hardby, while the numerous
white tents, the wagon covers and the flares and glow of the brightly burning
campfires give almost the appearance of a village, or a homelike community. The
music of the fiddle and guitar are heard, and around <pb n="B-15"/><fw
type="pageNum">B-15</fw> the Colonel’s wagon, a number of young folks are
gathered, some of them dancing a gay measure on the greensward.</stage>
<view>Sitting by the fires, on the steps of their wagons, on boxes, or camp
stools, the older people look on indulgently. </view>
<view>Gayest of all the young people and the most sought after is Sally Lou,
laughing as she dances, and having her hands full keeping pace among the young
blades of the party already contesting for her favor. </view>
<view>Over the brow of a hill, that lies between the encampment and the town of
Independence, a party of horsemen are seen. They ride down toward the Immigrant
camp, dismount outside the circle and come into the enclosure. They are Bull
Dorien and a couple of his men. Bull inquires who is in charge of the
expedition and is directed to Colonel Appleton. Bull’s manner is all affability
as he holds out his hand to the Colonel and explains that he is a trader and
trapper in the Oregon country; that he is returning there the following day and
thought possibly he could be of some assistance to the train -- perhaps the
Immigrants could use a couple of fine guides. Colonel Appleton thanks him but
replies that they have already arranged to apply two well known scouts - Ren
Bullock and Thad Jones. The two men have been highly recommended by the <choice>
<sic>Hudsons</sic>
<corr>Hudson’s</corr>
</choice> Bay Company at Fort <choice>
<sic>VanCouver</sic>
<corr>Vancouver</corr>
</choice> with whom the Colonel has been in correspondence and he has been
informed that they know every inch of the country and are absolutely reliable.
<pb n="B-16."/><fw type="pageNum">B-16.</fw>
</view>
<sp>
<speaker>BULL</speaker>
<p>You ain’t speakin’ of Ren Bullock and Thad Jones? </p>
</sp>
<sp>
<speaker>COLONEL</speaker>
<p>Those are the names of our guides, sir.</p>
</sp>
<stage><sound>Bull whistles.</sound></stage>
<sp>
<speaker>BULL</speaker>
<p> Well that’s too bad! </p>
</sp>
<sp>
<speaker>COLONEL</speaker>
<p> What do you mean? </p>
</sp>
<view> Bull pretends to hesitate and shakes his head as if worried. </view>
<sp>
<speaker>COLONEL</speaker>
<p> Kindly explain yourself, sir. </p>
</sp>
<sp>
<speaker>BULL</speaker>
<p> We-el ya see - them two fellows are up in town on a spree. There ain’t a
chance of them bein’ able to pull out for several days. </p>
</sp>
<view>This statement causes immense excitement among the Immigrants, who are
crowding about the Colonel’s wagon. Sally runs up beside her father and takes
his arm. Everyone around is talking at once, and the word soon spreads right
and left through the camp that their guides are on a drunk. The Immigrants are
opposed to trusting their fortunes to a couple of drunkards.</view>
<view>While the matter is being heatedly debated and argued, a curious little
cavalcade rides into the encampment. Sitting straight and easy in the saddle is
Ren Bullock. He is leading <pb n="B-17."/><fw type="pageNum">B-17.</fw> another
horse across which is the dead drunk Thad, clumsily concealed by a great burlap
spread. He brings his horse to a stop, puts back his wide hat and scratches his
head as if puzzled. As he raises his voice the Immigrants turn and look toward
him. Red rides right into the circle.</view>
<sp>
<speaker>REN</speaker>
<p> Can any of you folks tell me who all is in charge here? </p>
</sp>
<view>Colonel Appleton steps forward. He bows a bit stiffly. Ren looks down at him
from his place on his horse, and then quite by chance his glance goes beyond
the Colonel, and he sees Sally Lou. Sally is standing by her father’s side. She
is watching the new arrival with tense interest. For a moment the two young
people look at each other, and then with an embarrassed motion, Ren awkwardly
removes his big hat and dismounts. He stands between the two horses, holding
their heads by the reins. He has not heard a word of Colonel Appleton’s
dignified explanation, to the effect that he has been elected commander in
chief; that there are three divisions each with its individual captain, and
that every man in the outfit has been assigned to some special duty. He pauses
to ask Ren who he is and what he wants. Ren replies; <q>I’m your guide,
sir</q>.</view>
<view>During the foregoing a certain inquiring spinster has been suspiciously
looking at the burden on the other horse’s back. She has edged near to it, and
has begun to lift the <pb n="B-18."/><fw type="pageNum">B-18.</fw> burlap, when
her hand touches something and she emits a <choice>
<sic>squeel</sic>
<corr>squeal</corr>
</choice> of terror. </view>
<sp>
<speaker>SPINSTER</speaker>
<p> What’s that? </p>
</sp>
<sp>
<speaker>REN</speaker>
<p> Jes a piece of no account baggage, <choice>
<sic>maam</sic>
<corr>ma’am</corr>
</choice>. </p>
</sp>
<stage type="action">The spinster looks at him in suspicion. She edges over to the
Colonel and says in a hollow whisper;</stage>
<sp>
<speaker>SPINSTER</speaker>
<p> Colonel -- it’s a corpse! </p>
</sp>
<view>Bull, who had kept in the background, gives the wink to one of his men. The
latter is a skinny, foxy little one-eyed man named Lefty. <choice>
<sic>Left</sic>
<corr>Lefty</corr>
</choice> slips over and pulls the burlap from the sprawled over figure,
revealing Thad, lying face downward, his head dangling over one side of the
horse, his legs on the other. There are screams from some of the women.</view>
<sp>
<speaker>REN</speaker>
<p> It’s just my pardner. </p>
<stage type="delivery"> (slightly embarrassed) </stage>
<p> He’s takin’ a little sleep. </p>
</sp>
<sp>
<speaker>LEFTY</speaker>
<stage type="delivery"> (cackling) </stage>
<p> He’s drunk. </p>
</sp>
<view>The Immigrants by now are thoroughly opposed to being guided by such a
disreputable pair. Colonel Appleton tells Ren that the deal is off. Ren is
disposed to argue the matter. He and his pardner have come all the way from the
Williamette Valley to take on the job. They are good guides -- none better in
the country. What’s more the Immigrants will have a hard time finding guides
who know the Oregon Trail. Col. Appleton tells him they have already engaged
other men, and he indicates Lefty and Pete. Ren stares at the two men, and then
his glance rests on Bull. A wry smile twists his features, </view>
<sp>
<speaker>REN</speaker>
<p> I’m powerful sorry for you, sir. Guess me and my pal’ll drift. </p>
</sp>
<view>He throws his leg over his horse’s back, and moves off. He barely reached
the side of the encampment when he is hailed by a curious looking man, who
comes running after him. Ren pulls up, and looks down at the bespectacled
little man, with rifle slung on his shoulder, and helmet on his head, a
portfolio under his arm, and his pockets bulging with various articles. Ren’s
face lights with a friendly grin.</view>
<sp>
<speaker>DIGGINS</speaker>
<p> One minute! I’ll have a word with you. </p>
</sp>
<sp>
<speaker>REN</speaker>
<p> Yes sir? </p>
</sp>
<sp>
<speaker>DIGGINS</speaker>
<p> My name’s Diggins - Prof. Alonzo Diggins. I’m going into Oregon by the
mountain route to make a practical study of geological strata and flora of
that interesting region. I need a guide. </p>
</sp>
<sp>
<speaker>REN</speaker>
<p>Fine. I’m your man, sir. </p>
</sp>
<sp>
<speaker>DIGGINS</speaker>
<p> You’re engaged. </p>
</sp>
<pb n="B-20"/>
<fw type="pageNum">B-20</fw>
<sp>
<speaker>REN</speaker>
<p> How many are you? </p>
</sp>
<sp>
<speaker>DIGGINS</speaker>
<p>Just myself, sir. <q>He travels the fastest who travels alone</q>.</p>
</sp>
<sp>
<speaker>REN</speaker>
<stage type="action"> (smiling) </stage>
<p> I reckon ye’re right. Me and my pardner was engaged to take two thousand so
I reckon we can handle your outfit of one. </p>
</sp>
<sp>
<speaker>DIGGINS</speaker>
<p> That’s my wagon over there. It’s completely outfitted with every scientific
instrument and implement necessary for such a trip.</p>
</sp>
<stage type="action"> They are moving along toward <choice>
<sic>Diggins</sic>
<corr>Diggins’s</corr>
</choice> wagon. </stage>
<sp>
<speaker>REN</speaker>
<p> I hope it’s outfitted with plenty of food, sire. It takes a powerful lot of
food for a four months’ trip to the Oregon. </p>
</sp>
<sp>
<speaker>DIGGINS</speaker>
<p> Yes, yes, food of course -- the necessary evil I suppose. But as I was
saying, the scientific importance --</p>
</sp>
<view> They are now at <choice>
<sic>Diggins</sic>
<corr>Diggins’s</corr>
</choice> wagon. <choice>
<sic>Diggons</sic>
<corr>Diggins</corr>
</choice> is proudly opening the flap and has crawled into the wagon but Ren
does not follow him. Ren has made the delightful discovery that the next wagon
to Diggins is none other than the Appleton wagon, on the steps of which sits
Sally Lou. </view>
<view>Ren stands perfectly still, smiling at Sally. Sally, forgetting herself,
starts to return the smile and then her face becomes very cool as she tosses
her head and looks over the head of Ren as if he were not there at all. </view>
<pb n="B-21."/>
<fw type="pageNum">B-21.</fw>
<sp>
<speaker>SALLY</speaker>
<p> Mandy! </p>
</sp>
<sp>
<speaker> MANDY’S VOICE </speaker>
<stage type="location"> (inside wagon) </stage>
<p> Yes, Miss Sally Lou. </p>
</sp>
<sp>
<speaker>SALLY</speaker>
<p> I’ll be right in, Mandy.</p>
</sp>
<view> She stands up. Out of the tail of her eye she manages to see that the young
man is still standing looking at her and then Sally goes inside. </view>
<stage> Ren gives a big blissful sigh and turns to <choice>
<sic>Diggin’s</sic>
<corr>Diggins’s</corr>
</choice> wagon. </stage>
<!-- Note by LW1: Should this be stage or view? -->
</div>
<div>
<pb n="C-0"/>
<head>SEQUENCE C</head>
<stage type="setting"> The Immigrant train is now on its way. The long line of
wagons, horses, mules, herds of cattle and other stock move like an army in
review. Wide-horned oxen yoked eight to a wagon. These wagons moving households
in which the family life is carried on. </stage>
<view>Hickory shirted teamsters roaring <q>Whoos</q> or cursing the oxen. Singing,
shouting niggers;<note type="editorial" resp="pers:LW1">This is an offensive
racial slur that appears multiple times in this text. Please see our <ref
target="doc:note_on_language">note on language</ref>.</note>
corn-crackers in homespun and high boots <q>gee-hawing</q> their mule teams.
Teamsters, cracking eight foot bull whips and squirting yellow tobacco juice
from bulging jaws; wagons milling in their dust. Some of the owners of the
outfits driving in light springed wagons; other ahorse. Men plodding afoot at
the side of each wagon. </view>
<view> Healthy children, rosy faces, peering from the wagons. </view>
<view> Buxom damsels in sunbonnets and cotton dresses on the front seats of the
wagon, beside the driver, or driving themselves. Others riding horseback, with
a youngster or two behind them. </view>
<view> Some of the women knitting and sewing as the wagons move along. Others idly
strumming on banjo or guitar. </view>
<view>In the rear of the caravan the droves of cattle and an endless army of
mules.</view>
<view> Immediately following the guides, at the head of the long parade comes the
fine covered wagon of the Commander in Chief, Col. Appleton. It is driven by
the drowsy Mose, and <pb n="C-1."/><fw type="pageNum">C-1.</fw> sitting beside
Mose is Sally Lou. Occasionally Sally Lou takes the reins in her own competent
hands, and once she orders the sleepy Mose off the wagon, and the latter tags
on afoot, yawning. </view>
<view>Riding alongside the Appleton wagon on a fine Kentucky horse is the Colonel.
He looks very splendid and important and Sally is proud of her father.
Occasionally the Colonel forgets his dignity, in so far as to ride to the tail
of the wagon, from whence Mandy’s big black hand issues with some favorite
edible or delicacy. The Colonel bites into a luscious doughnut or piece of
Johnny cake. Then he clears his throat wipes the crumbs from his vest,
straightens up in his saddle and looking very stern and serious, canterse down
the line of wagons, on a military tour of inspection.</view>
<p>The train is broken up into three companies, each in its way distinctive. The
companies are divided from each other by the pack mules, but none the less they
are within close touch of each other and then they go into camp all three
companies are on hand. </p>
<p>The first of the companies and the largest is made up mainly of the farmers.
The second includes the missionaries, teachers and others. The third is made up
of a bold congregation of adventurers, gamblers, hunters, trappers and traders.
Bull Dorien and a number of his men have cast their lot with this third
company. Although each company has its individual captain they are all under
the head of the expedition Commander <pb n="C-2."/><fw type="pageNum">C-2.</fw>
in Chief, Col. Appleton. </p>
<view>Travelling over a hill trail comes the little train in charge of Thad and
Ren. the two young guides are on horseback, but Prof. Diggins sits on the front
seat of the prairie schooner, and ever and anon almost gives the driver heart
failure, as he leaps agilely out in search of some particular specimen in flora
or to examine, on the edge of some sleep precipice, certain rock formations. </view>
<view>Once the little professor gets out of the wagon and slides down a cliff to
examine some bright specimens he had seen through his field glasses. He seems
to have a charmed life, and by clinging to stumps and roots, actually returns
with his portfolio of pressed flowers still under his arm and his hand
clutching the specimens he went after. Ren and Thad who have dismounted, assist
him to the top, but are in no mood to listen to his excited rhapsodies over his
find. Ren picks up his field glasses. As he looks off across the skyline, great
clouds of dust or sand seem to be arising. Ren puts the glasses to his eyes,
and focuses them. </view>
<sp>
<speaker>REN</speaker>
<p>Here they come!</p>
</sp>
<view>On the lower trail the Immigrant train is coming into sight. Ren watches
intently, but his glass moves along the line till it picks out and stays turned
on the first wagon of the train. Then he sighs and smiles.</view>
<pb n="C-3"/>
<fw type="pageNum">C-3</fw>
<sp>
<speaker>THAD</speaker>
<p> What are you looking at, Ren? </p>
</sp>
<sp>
<speaker>REN</speaker>
<p> There’s a powerful fine girl in that first wagon and she’s pretty as a
daisy, an’ she’s different from other gels<note type="editorial"
>girls</note> -- </p>
</sp>
<sp>
<speaker>THAD</speaker>
<stage> (laughing) </stage>
<p> Well, you old, long-legged cayuse you! </p>
</sp>
<sp>
<speaker>REN</speaker>
<p> Well take a look fer yerself an’ give yer eyes a treat.</p>
</sp>
<view> Ren hands the glasses to Thad. Thad focuses them upon the first wagon. The
girl in the driver’s seat turns her face so that he sees it clearly - she is
Sally Lou Appleton. The glasses almost drop from Thad’s hands, his lips are