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"Die Zauberflöte," an opera in two acts, words by Emanuel Schickaneder, was first produced at Vienna, Sept. 30, 1791, with the following cast: QUEEN OF NIGHT Mme. HOFER. PAMINA Mlle. GORL. TAMINO Herr SCHACK. MONOSTATOS Herr GORL. SARASTRO Herr SCHICKANEDER, Sr. The "Magic Flute" was the last great work of the composer, and followed the "Cosi fan tutte," which was given in January, 1791.
There was neither wavering nor mercy in the eyes of the teamster and his escort as they pressed on down the valley. One of the escort called sharply to the teamster. "Can we make it?" he shouted. "Got to," came back the answer through clenched jaws. "If we got twenty minutes on the gorl darned p'lice they won't see us for dust. Heh!" The man's final exclamation came as one of his horses stumbled.
They've kind o' scratched him some. 'Tain't nothin' to gas about; jest barked his neck. Kind o' needs a bit o' band'ge. Gorl durn you, Joe! Git your arm under his shoulders an' kep his head steady; he'll git bleedin' to death ef y' ain't careful. Quiet, you jade!" he cried fiercely, to the mare whom Diane had frightened with her white robe as she came to help.
You heard 'em slam the door. You saw the two come along. An' one of 'em must have been Anton. Leastways he must have let 'em have the hosses. I guess that's an alternative. I say Anton was up on one of them hosses, an' the other was some gorl durned Breed mate of his. Good. We're goin' right on to see the governor." "What to do?" asked Tresler. "To give him your yarn," Jake said shortly.
"Say, you gorl " "Set right ther', Shaky," broke in Slum, as the big man sprang toward him. "Set right ther'; ther' ain't goin' to be no hoss-play." Slum Ranks had not shifted his position, but his right hand had dived into his jacket pocket and his eyes flashed ominously. And the carpenter dropped back into his seat without a word. And Tresler looked on in amazement.
"That bull I imported last fall for three thousand dollars," he went on, turning back to the foreman. "They shot him up and drove off his twenty-five cows from the Coyote Bluff pastures. Dirty spite an' meanness. The white-livered scum!" Then with a fierce oath the usually even-tempered Bud hurled his wrath upon the waiting man. "Gorl darn it, you're standin' around like a barbed wire fence post.
"Gorl darn it, boys," came a peevish voice, from amidst the blanket, "'tain't smart, neither, playin' around when a feller's kind o' roundin' up his plug. How'm I goin' to cut that all-fired buckskin out o' the bunch wi' you gawkin' around like a reg'ment o' hoboes? Ef you don't reckon to fool any, why, some o' you git around an' head him off from the rest of 'em.
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