to vote. [etc.]

FRANKLIN

Oh, Mr. Rutledge—

RUTLEDGE [off]

Yes, Dr. Franklin?

FRANKLIN

Please—may I speak to you?

RUTLEDGE [coming in]

Of course, Doctor—what is it?

FRANKLIN

Sit down here, my boy.

RUTLEDGE

Thank you.

FRANKLIN

Do you think you can swing the South Carolina delegation for independence?

RUTLEDGE

I don't know, Dr. Franklin, but I've invited them to my lodging to dine with me and talk over the question.

FRANKLIN

Good, good! Often an excellent meal and a taste of fine wine carry more conviction than hours of argument. As I see it now, we must swing South Carolina, Pennsylvania, and Delaware into line before tomorrow morning.

RUTLEDGE

Count on me for South Carolina.

FRANKLIN

And I'll take care of Pennsylvania. I think I'll try your strategy—I'll invite the delegation to dinner.

RUTLEDGE

Then that leaves Delaware.

FRANKLIN

I wonder if McKeen of Delaware, who favors independence—

RUTLEDGE

Yes, I know.

FRANKLIN [going on]

—can't swing Dr. Reed in the same way.

RUTLEDGE

Perhaps.

FRANKLIN

Oh, there's McKeen now. Call him over here—will you, Rutledge?

RUTLEDGE

Of course. [calling] Oh, Mr. McKeen! Mr. McKeen!

MCKEEN [off]

Yes?

RUTLEDGE

Come over here a moment—will you, please?

MCKEEN

Why, certainly. [coming in] Well, Dr. Franklin, we had a stormy session this morning.

FRANKLIN

All that will be forgotten—

MCKEEN

In victory.

FRANKLIN

If only we can make our victory complete.

MCKEEN

True.

FRANKLIN

What chance is there for Delaware to join us?

MCKEEN

None, I'm afraid. Dr. Reed and I are the only delegates here—and he is as unalterably opposed to independence as I am in favor of it. The vote of Delaware won't count.

FRANKLIN

What about getting another favoring delegate here by tomorrow? Could you do that?

MCKEEN

Well, Doctor, I'm afraid it's out of the question. Caesar Rodney favors the resolution, I know, but he's at home in Dover, Delaware.

FRANKLIN

Send a postrider for him!

MCKEEN

It's eighty miles.

FRANKLIN

Well, that's not impossible. We have until nine o'clock tomorrow morning—it's now—let's see—just a little after twelve—that's nearly twenty-one hours.

MCKEEN

But Rodney was very ill when he went home last week.

FRANKLIN

Perhaps he's better by now. Write him a letter—send it by the postrider—urge upon him the enormous importance of his getting here by tomorrow morning.

MCKEEN

Well, I can try it.

FRANKLIN

Do, Mr. McKeen, for we must have unanimous action on this question! We must hang together on this, or we'll all hang separately!

MCKEEN

All right, sir, I'll go to the postrider's at once! Good day.

FRANKLIN

Good day. And let us pray that Rodney gets here!

ANNOUNCER

So McKeen hurried to the postrider's stable. Now the postrider was to the people of Revolutionary days what the telegraph or the telephone is to us today. He carried messages at a very rapid rate, for those days, by changing horses every ten or fifteen miles.

As McKeen came up to the post stable, he saw the stableman sitting on a bench, hard at work cleaning a saddle.

MCKEEN

Good day, sir.

URIAH

Day to ye.

MCKEEN

I want a postrider.

URIAH

Wal', postriders are all out, sir.

MCKEEN

Oh, too bad! When do you expect one back?

URIAH

Dunno fer certain. Mebbe three or four hours—mebbe longer.

MCKEEN

But look here—I can't wait that long—I want one right away!

URIAH

I'm right sorry, sir, but thar ain't nawthin' I kin do about et. Come back this evenin' and I kin hev a man fer ye, but not before.

MCKEEN

But, look here, my man—

URIAH

My name's Uriah Clarke—at yer service.

MCKEEN

All right, Mr. Clarke, I've got to have a postrider to carry a very important message to Dover, Delaware, to get a man back here from Dover by nine o'clock tomorrow morning.

URIAH

Dover, Delaware, and back?

MCKEEN

Yes, by nine tomorrow morning!

URIAH

Why, sir, it's nigh onto eighty mile to Delaware.

MCKEEN

I know it.

URIAH

Eighty mile thar and eighty mile back—why, pshaw, sir, we couldn't do thet under a whole day—even ef we hed a rider to send out right now—which we ain't.

MCKEEN

Twenty-five pounds if you'll do it!

URIAH

But how kin we? Ain't I jest told ye we ain't got no riders?

MCKEEN

Why can't you go?

URIAH

Law, sir, I ain't rode a trip like thet fer years. It 'ud more than likely kill me.

MCKEEN

Fifty pounds if you'll do it!

URIAH

No, sir!

MCKEEN

Name your own sum.

URIAH

Ye couldn't pay me, sir—not fer thet ride. I know thet road like a book—bad, slow, hard on hoss flesh when ye take it easy. I'd stave up half my hosses—not to mention myself, sir, and I hev a mind fer myself, too.

MCKEEN

Change riders—change your horses oftener—but make it you must!

URIAH

Not ef 'twas a matter of life and death, sir.

MCKEEN

It's more than that!

URIAH

Eh? What? What ye talkin' about?

MCKEEN

It's a matter of life and death for a nation—our country!

URIAH

Is et somethin' to do with Congress, sir?

MCKEEN

It is.

URIAH

Wal', sir, I'm a Son of Liberty, and et's my sworn duty to go whar I'm wanted fer liberty, and ef thet's et—

MCKEEN

It is.

URIAH

Then I'll go.

MCKEEN

I'll pay your price.

URIAH

Thar won't be no price! I'll git yer man to Philadelphia tomorrow mornin' ef I hev to carry him myself. Who's yer man?

MCKEEN

Caesar Rodney of Dover, Delaware. Here's a letter for him.

URIAH

Caesar Rodney—I'll fetch him!

MCKEEN

Good!

URIAH [going]

Hey, Jim! Throw a saddle on thet bay mare! [orders fade out]