om outside; he
is the young man brought up on a farm, a crudely Americanized Swede_.)

MADELINE: (_stepping out of the cell door, and around it_) Hello, Emil.

EMIL: How are you, Madeline? How do, Mr Morton. (IRA _barely nods and
does not turn. In an excited manner he begins gathering up the corn he
has taken from the sack_. EMIL _turns back to_ MADELINE) Well, I'm just
from the courthouse. Looks like you and I might take a ride together,
Madeline. You come before the Commissioner at four.

IRA: What have you got to do with it?

MADELINE: Oh, Emil has a courthouse job now, father. He's part of the
law.

IRA: Well, he's not going to take you to the law! Anybody else--not Emil
Johnson!

MADELINE: (_astonished--and gently, to make up for his rudeness_)
Why--father, why not Emil? Since I'm going, I think it's nice to go in
with someone I know--with a neighbour like Emil.

IRA: If _this_ is what he lived for! If this is why--

(_He twists the ear of corn until some of the kernels drip off_.
MADELINE _and_ EMIL _look at one another in bewilderment_.)

EMIL: It's too bad anybody has to take Madeline in. I should think your
uncle could fix it up. (_low_) And with your father taking it like
this--(_to help_ IRA) That's fine corn, Mr Morton. My corn's getting
better all the time, but I'd like to get some of this for seed.

IRA: (_rising and turning on him_) You get my corn? I raise this corn
for you? (_not to them--his mind now going where it is shut off from any
other mind_) If I could make the _wind_ stand still! I want to _turn the
wind around_.

MADELINE: (_going to him_) Why--father. I don't understand at all.

IRA: Don't understand. Nobody understands. (_a curse with a sob in it_)
God damn the wind!

(_Sits down, his back to them_.)

EMIL: (_after a silence_) Well, I'll go. (_but he continues to look at_
IRA, _who is holding the sack of com shut, as if someone may take it_)
Too bad--(_stopped by a sign from_ MADELINE, _not to speak of it_) Well,
I was saying, I have go on to Beard's Crossing. I'll stop for you on my
way back. (_confidentially_) Couldn't you telephone your uncle? He could
do something. You don't know what you're going up against. You heard
what the Hindus got, I suppose.

MADELINE: No. I haven't seen anyone to-day.

EMIL: They're held for the grand jury. They're locked up now. No bail
for them. I've got the inside dope about them. They're going to get what
this country can hand 'em; then