L’Ape musicale  

rivista di musica, arti, cultura

 

   

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Scene 3

[Two weeks later. On the mountain. Main camp. Lodgepole pines surround the camp with the big tent, cooking utensils, tin plates, stumps for seats, another for a table, crossbar nailed between two trees for a combination hitching rail and saddle rack. On an upper level stage left or right the pup tent is in darkness until needed.]

[Ennis at the campfire scraping something from a can into a frying pan. Jack enters far right.]

JACK

What’s for supper tonight, Hamburgers and onions?

Pork chops?

Fried chicken?

Sirloin steaks?

ENNIS [stirring the frying pan contents]

Canned spaghetti.

JACK

Ugh. Not again. You burn it this time?

[Ennis dishes up, hands Jack a plate. They sit on the stumps and eat.]

JACK

Sure wish we could go to town, have a good dinner, get drunk at that bar, tie one on. Talk to people. You don’t talk much.

[He pauses. Tests the water.]

Get laid.

ENNIS

Dream on.

Anyways, I ain’t much of a talker.

JACK

Today I seen a wolf or the biggest coyote in the world. Big as a cow. I shot at him twice.

ENNIS

[a questioning look] Get it?

JACK

Missed both times.

ENNIS

Coyote. Wolves is all wiped out.

[They scrape their dishes into the fire, dump plates in the enamel dishpan on the stump.]

JACK

I hate to go back to that damn little tent. [pause] See you tomorrow. [He reaches out, almost touches Ennis’s shoulder, thinks better of it and leaves.]

ENNIS

See you.

The main camp falls into darkness except for the glow of the fire and the shadowy figure of Ennis sitting silently at first, then beginning to hum and then sing scraps of an old lullaby from his

early childhood.

ENNIS

[fitting words to his private song]

Pretty lonesome down here. Dark. Dark. Moon ain’t up yet.

As the main camp darkens we see the pup tent, at a higher elevation, light into dim view. Jack approaches it wearily, lugging his saddle, shoves it in the tent. Before crawling in after it he stares down at Ennis’s distant campfire.

JACK

I can see his fire.

Wish I was down there.

No fire up here. Aguirre says.

No whiskey. Aguirre says. [pause]

Here’s to you, Aguirre.

[He takes a flask from inside his jacket, holds it up as though toasting Aguirre and drinks.]

Quiet. I don’t hear no wolves now. [Yawns.] Might as well sleep as sit in the dark.

I can see his fire.

[Crawls into the pup tent. Lights out.]

[Interlude]


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