 The weird circle. In this cave, by the restless sea, we are met to call from out the past stories, strange and weird. Bellkeeper, hold the bell, so all may know we are gathered again in the weird circle. The burial of... Clean on my shoulder. Now, hurry. I think we've escaped the Redskins. They were two to one against us. Very few of us will return to the settlements. Park to their savage yells. They are further distant now. Come on. Now watch out for those branches. There is a clearing in these oaks. If I look at that great rocket, smooth service must be 15 feet high like a granite palisade. More like a gigantic gravestone. Ruben, my boy, I can go no further now. Put me down. You are badly wounded yourself, so rest awhile and gain strength. For there are miles of howling wilderness between us and the settlement. We ought to press on, sir, but we must win through. I, for one, mean to do so. If the smoke of my own chimney were on the other side of that hill yonder, it would do me no good. The Indian bullet was deadlier than I thought. Oh, nonsense. An old hunter like you doesn't give up. Now come along. No, lad, no. There's not two days life in me. I shall not burden you much longer with my useless body. When I die, you can bury me here and mark my name Roger Malvin on this granite head. Wait, wait. I have an idea. There were other fugitives in the fight. They must have carried the news to the settlements and by this time, parties will be out searching for survivors like us. Yes, there was one dirty coward who ran away in the beginning of the fight. He most probably made good speed home. Every man on the frontier with shoulders must get at the news and set out on rescue parties. You give me courage, lad. One of them may find us here at any time. Oh, not us. Not here. For I mean to go in search of rescue. Who travels best, who travels alone. Ruben, you're not going to leave me here wounded and alone. The Indians will scalp me. The Indians are far off by now. But there are wild beasts in these mountains. You have your hunting knife. I shall die of thirst. Here is my powder horn now filled with water. I'll leave it with you. I have loved you like a father, Rubenborn. And you would desert me in this trackless wilderness. Leave me as food for the buzzards. And what about Dorcas, my dear daughter, whom you profess to love? Will you dare meet her eye? She will ask the fate of her father whose life you promised to defend with your own. Wait, wait, old man. I would give you my life if its sacrifice would do any good. There's the fever that makes you rave so listen to me. I'm going for help. I shall return and with the rescue party. There's no hope for either of us if I stay here with you. Dorcas would be desolate indeed if neither of us returned. Forgive me, boy. I was thinking only of myself. But you will come back. Of course, of course. See, here are roots and berries that I've gathered. And here is the water. Now I'll mark this place if I can just climb the rock and bend down this young oak. There is just such a sapling growing at my front door at home. Remember? I guess they are alike. While you are gone, I shall pray to see my own home again. It's not like I've been it down. Now on the topmost branch I'll bind my kerchief and buy my blood that stains that I vow to do my best to save you. But Ruben, you may not meet a rescue party until it is too late for me. The Indians warned the dead as well as on the living. So swear to return when you are strong again. Return to this wild rock and lay my bones in a grave and say a prayer over them. Oh, I do, I do. I most solemnly swear to return. And if it's too late, see that Roger Melvin has a proper Christian burial. It is enough. God speed you. Ruben. Hi. Ruben. What is it? Before you go, raise me. Let me lean against the rock. My face will be turned towards home. And I shall see you a moment longer as you disappear in the forest. There. I shoved together a bed of these dry leaves. Is that comfortable? Then farewell, sir, till we meet again. One last hand, glass, Ruben. Now go and go quickly. We followed this stream far enough. That was the lakeest of the Northwest. Come on. This is a frightful neck of wood for any wounded to be lost in. I fear there will be mighty few of our rangers surviving. They were ambushed. Our men broke the strength of the tribe, though. We'll hear no more of the Redskins for a while. So I trust. Now the woods are getting dark. Going to rain, I calculate. It's so weak. I keep falling. I must get up. Get up. I'm lost. There's no sun, only this rain. It's so dark. I don't know which way to go. No food. I'll die here. I'll die too, but I'm young and I want to live. Both of us will die alone in this awful solitude. Roger Melvin and I. The buzzards were plucking our flesh. He said so. Gastly features of death grinning at me back of every tree. I said I'd go back to him. I can't go back. I won't go back. Anyway, he's dead by now. That's it. He's dead and I... I buried him. I'll tell them that I buried him. Who's to know? I won't go back. I won't go back. Doctor, yes? Over there in the ground. It's a ranger. Why it's young? Ruben Born. He went out from the settlement with Roger Melvin, didn't he? He's lost a lot of blood. Ruben, it's Doctor Wentworth. Are there any other survivors? Where is Roger Melvin? Melvin. Back there. Oh, come on. We must go and find him. No! Snowy Yoshi. He's dead. Snowy Yoshi, I tell you, he's dead. He's dead. Oh, poor lad. He's fainted. We must carry him, yes, yes. Now be careful. Help me pick him up. We'll get him back to the settlement. Will he live, Doctor? Well, I hope so. Yes, I think he'll live. Dorcas! Dorcas! My Ruth, good morning. I hear they've brought Ruben back here. Yes, last evening. Wasn't it wonderful? But, but he's very sick. It's a great task for you, Dorcas, to nurse him back to health. It's my privilege. Has he said anything about my Silas? Or about any of the other men? No. No, not even a word about my father. Dorcas, I'm so afraid. Don't worry. The search parties are still bringing in many of the wounded. But not my good man. Oh, why did we ever come to the frontier? I'm not fit to be a settlement wife. I can only think of Silas in captivity or in death. Now, Ruth, you mustn't talk so. When Ruben is better, he will have news. Is he still out of his head? Yes. He raised about wild beasts. In the Indians. I suppose so. Oh, Ruth, I must go to him. Can't I help? Ruben, what is it, Ruben? I'm here. Find a sapling. I'll get some well water to bathe his head. And dive off those buzzards. There are no buzzards, Ruben, dear. Foxes. Red foxes. I'm thirsty. I'll die of thirst. No, Ruben. You won't die of thirst. Here's some water. You're safe now with me. With Dorcas Malvin. Malvin. Malvin. Scout the dead. No! Ruben. That's my child. These two weeks since we brought Ruben home have been very difficult for you. But I think I've won my battle, Doctor Wentworth. He's been sleeping quietly like this lately. No more of those horrible nightmares. None. Good. Well, his wounds are nearly healed now. Your Ruben will get well. Doctor, I'm so thankful. Look, Dorcas. He's awake. Dorcas. Ruben. Oh, at last you know me. I can see it in your eyes. Oh, Ruben. Where am I? You're at the farm. And Doctor Wentworth and I are taking care of you. How long is it since the fight it levels upon? When the fight was early in May, my boy. And it's now the 20th. My father, Ruben. What of my father? Roger Melvin was badly wounded, Dorcas. He told me not to burden myself with him, but naturally I would not leave him. I helped him all I could, and for three days we struggled home together. Oh, Ruben, you gave him your strength and you were wounded and bleeding yourself. And at sunrise the fourth day, I saw that his life was fast ebbing away. He died. I marked the place where I buried him. With your poor weak hands you dug a grave for my father. I did what I could. There is a noble tombstone above his head. I would to heaven I slept as soundly as he. There's no need to thank me, Ruben lad, for letting you visit me these few weeks. Your health is much better now. But now let's not dwell on these past tragedies, Ruben. You have your own life to live and a mighty life it will be when you're married to our sweet Dorcas and you approve of her choice with all my heart. And I know that this marriage was the great wish of my old friend Roger Melvin. I'm not sure of that. What have I to offer, Dorcas, except my love? Your stout heart and strong shoulders will be badly needed on the farm. Roger's properties are about the largest and most prosperous in the colony. You too can work out a marvelous future. There he is, Ruth, sitting out my son with Dr. Wentworth, my husband to be. Oh, he's so handsome and he looks so well. He is well. Aren't you, Ruben, dear? Oh, Dorcas, my sweet. Oh, come and join us, girls. Hello, Mrs. Ruth and Dorcas. You're a picture to the eye. We were just saying how healthy you look, Ruben. How can I help it? How can I help it be well after the wonderful nursing that Dorcas gave me? But you've been through so much, wounded and exhausted, why, you dug a grave and eased. Ruth, please, no more of that. Well, everyone says it was so good of you to risk your own life to save Mr. Malvin from dying alone and unbearable. Will you stop? Oh, Ruben. Now, he's a young fellow. Oh, I know that these memories distress you, but take it easy. Come, Mrs. Ruth, I think that you and I can leave this future bride and groom alone, eh? Oh, yes, Doctor. He certainly is modest about his bravery. Ruth didn't mean to annoy you, Ruben. Dear one, I'm sorry I grew angry, but I hate to talk with your father. I don't quite understand why, Ruben, but I shall try to remember. Let me see you smile. That's it. Are you excited about the wedding? Oh, it's so wonderful. Two days from now, I'll be your wife. Dorcas-born. Better still, Mistress Ruben-born. Oh, Dorcas. There she is with Doctor Wentworth. Oh, yes, she looks lovely. And so happy. Oh, there's Ruben. He's taken her hand. Shhh. Elder Perkins is starting the service. Ruben-born, do you take this woman, Dorcas-malven, to be your wedded wife? I do. Do you solemnly swear to love and to cherish her, honor and keep her, in sickness and in health? Ruben-born, Ruben-born, do you solemnly swear, solemnly swear? Who spoke? Ruben, what is it? What's happened? He's white as death. I'm waiting, my son. Do you swear? Ruben-born, you made me a sacred promise. Can you keep this vow? Ruben. Ruben, please answer. I... I do. I do solemnly swear. Ruben-born, I cannot intercede again for Ruben-born. My conscience will not allow it. For all these years he has broken every law of the Governor's Council. Yes, I know that every man's hand is against him, Elder. What possesses him to behave as he does? Some evil spirit. Ever since the day I married him to Dorcas-malven, he has been as a man possessed. Oh, no, Elder Perkins. Ruben is not possessed. He was badly wounded. That was eighteen years ago, Ruth Whitman. I think Ruth is right, Elder. He's still a sick man. His soul is sick. He has squandered his heritage, neglected his land. I'll admit that his farm is hopelessly run down. It yields us less and less every year. And now this dreadful fine, two hundred pounds, it will ruin them. They'll lose the farm. He should have thought of that when he refused to give his trees for the mastering of the king's ships. Ruben-born has brought this just punishment upon himself. There's nothing I can do. Pity his name, Elder. What of Dorcas and that fine boy of theirs? Cyrus-born is seventeen now, with all his life before him. He should be given another chance. I am sorry, Doctor. I cannot intercede another time for Ruben-born. You understand, I'm sure. I bid you both good day. Good day, Elder. Oh, Doctor Wentworth. I can't bear to have Dorcas know it'll break her heart. I don't relish the task of telling young Cyrus. He's in there in my library waiting to hear the news. I shall have to call him. No need, sir. I couldn't help overhearing. So Elder Perkins' godly conscience won't let him help us. Well, I guess old Stoney Hart is within his rights. Father is a bit high-handed in his dealings. You were a good lad, Cyrus, to take it with a smile. You know, you remind me of your father when he was your age. My father? Smiling? Yes, yes. He was always happy and cheerful until he came back from that expedition against the Indians. I think Cyrus is more like Roger Melvin. That's what mother says, Mistress Whitman. She loves to talk about grandfather. Ever since I was a baby, she's told me the story of his death and how brave father was to stay with him and bury him and all that. We call it our secret because we never dare speak of it to father. He never mentions your grandfather does he, Cyrus? No, sir. And if anyone else does, he flies into a rage and shuts himself in his room. Battling with some demon of his imagination. I never understood it. It's very frightening sometimes, sir. I remember so well one day when I was six or seven years old. What happened, Cyrus? I was playing on the rocks near the porch of our house. Mother was churning. I remember having fallen, cutting my arm pretty badly. Cyrus darling, come here to mother. Oh, why, that is a pretty big cut. Here, let me tie it up with mother's kerchief. Now there, that will stop the bleeding. You're a brave boy not to cry. My father didn't cry when he fought the Indians. No, little son, he didn't. See, mother, I got blood all on me just like he had. I'm going to pretend I'm big and brave like father was. Yes, dear. And can I dig a great big grave? Oh, Cyrus, I don't think you... Right by this little sapling? Well, if you do not hurt it, it was your grandfather's favorite tree. And I'll find a stone, a great big stone. Funny boy, what a strange game for him to play. Marcus, Marcus, where are you? Here in front of the house, dear, watching Cyrus. Oh, Ruben, did you sell the grain? The fools find me 50 pine tree shillings for overcharging. Oh, Ruben, dear, you overcharged them again. I begged you not to. Father, come on, just like yours did. What, Cyrus? What's that? What are you doing? Digging grandfather's grave. Oh, by heaven. Under the sapling, see? Come see, father, come see. My own son taunting me. Where's my axe? Don't hurt the boy, Ruben. Cyrus, come here. Out of my way, boy. The sapling will stand no longer. Ruben, no. Oh, beautiful young oak tree. Ruben, stop. Father's tree. Blast, your father's tree. This will get into it. Yes, Ruben-born. You destroy the sapling. For try as you will, you can never destroy your memories. Mother, I'm scared. Look at father. What's he staring at? I don't know, little son. I don't know. Remember when your grandfather planted that young oak? That's an unbelievable story, Cyrus. No wonder it's haunted you. Father is queer, but don't forget we've had a lot of fun together. Hunting and fishing and such things. But I'd better stop talking so much and ride on home to tell the news. Mother will be terribly unhappy. Not while she has you, Cyrus. You're a fine boy. Mistress Whitman, I think you're prejudiced. But thank you just the same. Goodbye to you both. Carry my love to Dorcas. Goodbye. Goodbye, boy. God bless. Whoa, Brownie. Whoa. Here we are. It's Cyrus, Ruben. Oh, what news? Cyrus, what news? What did the great governor's council say? No hope, father. We have to pay the hundred pounds or give up the farm. Well, I'll not pay it. I can have this place. I'm sick of it. I'm sick of them all. Bigoted, narrow-minded. What do we do, Ruben? We'll go into the wilderness and make a new home. Mother, dear, we'll build you a fine new house. Won't we, father? Yes, son. A house of my own. We'll only take what the horse can carry. As for the rest, the council can have it and welcome. Good riddance to the Malvern farm, say I. Father, for the last two days, you've not been following the blaze trail. I know where we're going, Cyrus. Yes, sir, but I mean the new grants will I do west. I know they do. I can show you the trail. You're a good woodsman, son, but I shall show you the way. I know where we're going. Well, we're heading too far. Enough! Do you object? No. Our journey will be longer and more exciting this way. Look, Ruben, wouldn't this be a good place to make camp by this stream and see that fallen log and be our dining cable? I think you're right, Dorcas. There's plenty of dry wood for our fire. Well, I'll gather the wood. You two had better hunt some game for our supper. I'll bring you some partridge and wild turkey and maybe a deer. My brave young hunter. But don't go too far from camp. Coming, father? Hi, son. Ruben, wait just a minute. Hi. What is it? I wonder if you remember that this is the 12th of May. And what if it is? You don't remember. 18 years ago on this day and somewhere in this very forest, you... you buried my father. Well, this is too much. I don't mean to vex you, Ruben, but this wilderness brings back memories that for some reason you will never talk about. Dorcas, for the last time, will you please stop talking of your father and of his death? Yes, of course, Ruben. But I did so hope you remembered. Come back as soon as you can and... good hunting, Ruben. Now, where did I leave you? I'm sure I'd know that great rock. I must find it. Where am I? Ah, there's the sunset on my left. I'm heading north over there. I'm sure the rock is nearby. Is that a grove of oaks ahead? Yes, it is, and there were oak trees where I left him. This must be the way. I will find the place, and when I do, I shall take up his bones and finally give them burial. And at last I may have peace in my heart. Wait. The sunlight shining on a mass of granite rising above the trees. It's the rock. Yes, it is. I found the rock. Yes, Rubenborn. You found the rock. All these long years, my bones have lain on the cold, hard ground. They're only covering the roughing leaves. And now you've dared to come back. Yes, Roger Melvin. I dared to come back to right the wrong I did you and find rest from my tortured soul. You are too late, Rubenborn. There can be no ha... It's never too late to make amends. You are too late, Rubenborn. There can be no ha... But I've come back, Roger. I promise to come back. Too late. Too late. Rubenborn is too late. Silence! Silence, old man. The whole forest will hear. You are too late. Too late. Silence, I say! Silence! I'll stand no more! Why, that was a human cry. Oh, what have I done? Oh, what have I done? Oh, great heaven! What's happened? Speak to me, Ruben. Speak to me. What are you staring at? Look, they've killed our son. From the time worn pages of the past, we have brought you the immortal tale, the burial of Rajan Malfi. Merit Keeper. Total...