Oh, John!, one trooper will call out to the mounted brave about to bash in his brains, using the name the troopers apply to all Indians.

Finally, there will remain only a small huddle of men, including Custer, on a slight rise that will forever bear the name Last Stand Hill.

And there they will die.

All of this will happen within the next forty minutes.

But none of it has happened yet.

Custer sits astride Vic, grasping the full extent of the village for the first time.

O, we Sing.

O, we Speak.

Where is Custer? cry the men on Reno Hill. We fear he has left us here to die.

Where is Custer? cries the village. We fear he has tricked us and will now destroy us from the north.

And this is where Mr. U. has decided Intermission will be.

All Speaking stops, all Singing stops. As instructed by Mr. U., we go limp, stand motionless, hang our heads, there upon the Speaking Wall.

At Podium, Mr. U. also hangs his head. He does not need to turn to know what Company thinks. He knows. We know.

We know very well how powerful we have been.

Company rises to its feet, its wild enthusiasm seeming impatient that its only path into the world is via these limited, applauding, middle-aged bodies.

Mrs. U. moves up the aisle (dances up it, nearly), embraces Mr. U., kisses him, here in Listening Room, in front of Company.

I feel, I admit it, a twinge of jealousy.

And yet, it is good, seeing them happy together. It is. They are a family. They are our family. We are a family. It is good for all of us if they are happy.

On the other hand, if they are happy, how will I ever be? When my future happiness depends upon further biting kisses? I imagine the lonely nights to come, should they reconcile, as I hang bereft on the Speaking Wall, hearing their laughter, perhaps their lovemaking (!), emanating, perhaps, from the couch in Main Living Area, from which, long ago, just after my birth, in the days before their estrangement, I once heard those sounds coming, the little startled yips she made, which, even then, though I was only newly born, aroused me.

But then again: she is his wife, his oldest friend, his helpmate. This kiss may be merely a friendship kiss, to say: Dear, I am genuinely happy to see that you have not, once again, failed.

Mr. U. thinks to have Jean bring us water. As we are drinking, Company’s applause redoubles, as if to say: Of course, yes, it is they who have done the work, my goodness, let them drink.

Company files out for Intermission, casting glances of admiration back at us.

But there is to be no Intermission for us: we have much to do, if we are to make Second Half surpass First.

Jed and Jean quickly bring out the ladder, the scaffolding, the rubber-matted platforms.