He produces an odd lens
from his pocket, and tries to focus the sun's rays.)
TWEENY. Why, what's that?
CRICHTON (the ingenious creature). That's the glass from my watch
and one from Mr. Treherne's, with a little water between them. I'm
hoping to kindle a fire with it.
TWEENY (properly impressed). Oh sir!
(After one failure the grass takes fire, and they are blowing on it
when excited cries near by bring them sharply to their feet. AGATHA
runs to them, white of face, followed by ERNEST.)
ERNEST. Danger! Crichton, a tiger-cat!
CRICHTON (getting his cutlass). Where?
AGATHA. It is at our heels.
ERNEST. Look out, Crichton.
CRICHTON. H'sh!
(TREHERNE comes to his assistance, while LADY MARY and CATHERINE
join AGATHA in the hut.) ERNEST. It will be on us in a moment. (He
seizes the hatchet and guards the hut. It is pleasing to see that
ERNEST is no coward.)
TREHERNE. Listen!
ERNEST. The grass is moving. It's coming.
(It comes. But it is no tiger-cat; it is LORD LOAM crawling on his
hands and knees, a very exhausted and dishevelled peer, wondrously
attired in rags.
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