章节正文
from nearly every bottle on the shelf, added a lump of ice,
and drank slowly and steadily.
Then he took pity on the impatient and anxious population, opened his mouth,
and spake.
"Look here, fellows," he drawled, jerking his arm in the direction
of the river, "I'll tell you what I'll dew. I'll bottle
that damned river of yourn in twenty-four hours!"
Later on he mellowed a bit, under the influence of several drinks
which were carefully and conscientiously "built" from plans and specifications
supplied by himself, and then, among other things, he said:
"If that there river rises as high as you say it dew -- and if this
was the States -- why, we'd have had the Great Eastern up here
twenty years ago" ---- or words to that effect.
Then he added, reflectively:
"When I come over here I calculated that I was going
to make things hum, but now I guess I'll have to change my prospectus.
There's a lot of loose energy laying round over our way,
but I guess that if I wanted to make things move in your country
I'd have to bring over the entire American nation -- also his wife and dawg.
You've got the makings of a glorious nation over here,
but you don't get up early enough!"
. . . . .
The only national work performed by the blacks is on the Darling.
They threw a dam of rocks across the river -- near Brewarrina, we think --
to make a fish trap. It's there yet. But God only knows
where they got the stones from, or how they carried them,
for there isn't a pebble within forty miles.
A Case for the Oracle
The Oracle and I were camped together. The Oracle was a bricklayer by trade,
and had two or three small contracts on hand. I was "doing a bit
of house-painting". There were a plasterer, a carpenter, and a plumber --
we were all T'othersiders, and old mates, and we worked things together.
It was in Westralia -- the Land of T'othersiders -- and, therefore,
we were not surprised when Mitchell turned up early one morning,
with his swag and an atmosphere of salt water about him.
He'd had a rough trip, he said, and would take a spell that day
and take the lay of the land and have something cooked for us
by the time we came home; and go to graft himself next morning.
And next morning he went to work, "labouring" for the Oracle.
The Oracle and his mates, being small contractors and not pressed for time,
had dispensed with the services of a labourer, and had done
their own mixing and hod-carrying in turns. They didn't want a labourer now,
but the Oracle was a vague fatalist, and Mitchell a decided one.
So it passed.
The Oracle had a "Case" right under his nose -- in his own employ, in fact;
but was not aware of the fact until Mitchell drew his attention to it.
The Case went by the name of Alfred O'Briar -- which hinted a mixed parentage.
He was a small, nervous working-man, of no particular colour,
and no decidedcharacter, apparently. If he had a soul above bricks,
he never betrayed it. He was not popular on the jobs.
There was something sly about Alf, they said.
The Oracle had taken him on in the first place as a day-labourer,
but afterwards shared the pay with him as with Mitchell.
O'Briar shouted -- judiciously, but on every possible occasion --
for the Oracle; and, as he was an indifferent workman,
the boys said he only did this so that the Oracle might keep him on.
If O'Briar took things easy and did no more than the rest of us,
at least one of us would be sure to get it into his head
that he was loafing on us; and if he grafted harder than we did,
we'd be sure to feel indignant about that too, and reckon that it was done
out of nastiness or crawlsomeness, and feel a contempt for him accordingly.
We found out accidentally that O'Briar was an excellent mimic
and a bit of a ventriloquist, but he never entertained us
with his peculiar gifts; and we set that down to churlishness.
O'Briar kept his own counsel, and his history, if he had one;
and hid his hopes, joys, and sorrows, if he had any, behind a vacant grin,
as Mitchell hid his behind a quizzical one. He never resented alleged satire
-- perhaps he couldn't see it -- and therefore he got the name of being a cur.
As a rule, he was careful with his money, and was called mean --
not, however, by the Oracle, whose philosophy was simple,
and whose sympathy could not realise a limit; nor yet by Mitchell.
Mitchell waited.
. . . . .
O'Briar occupied a small tent by himself, and lived privately of evenings.
When we began to hear two men talking at night in his tent,
we were rather surprised, and wondered in a vague kind of way
how any of the chaps could take sufficient interest in Alf
to go in and yarn with him. In the days when he was supposed to be sociable,
we had voted him a bore; even the Oracle was moved to admit
that he was "a bit slow".
But late one night we distinctly heard a woman's voice in O'Briar's tent.
The Oracle suddenly became hard of hearing, and, though we heard the voice
on several occasions, he remained exasperatingly deaf,
yet aggressively unconscious of the fact. "I have got enough to do
puzzling over me own whys and wherefores," he said. Mitchell began
to take some interest in O'Briar, and treated him with greater respect.
But our camp had the name of being the best-constructed,
the cleanest, and the most respectable in the vicinity.
The health officer and constable in charge had complimented us on the fact,
and we were proud of it. And there were three young married couples in camp,
also a Darby and Joan; therefore, when the voice of a woman began to be heard
frequently and at disreputable hours of the night in O'Briar's tent,
we got uneasy about it. And when the constable who was on night duty
gave us a friendly hint, Mitchell and I agreed that something must be done.
"Av coorse, men will be men," said the constable, as he turned
his horse's head, "but I thought I'd mention it. O'Briar is a dacent man,
and he's one of yer mates. Av coorse. There's a bad lot in that camp
in the scrub over yander, and -- av coorse. Good-day to ye, byes."
. . . . .
Next night we heard the voice in O'Briar's tent again,
and decided to speak to Alf in a friendly way about it in the morning.
We listened outside in the dark, but could not distinguish the words,
though I thought I recognised the voice.
"It's the hussy from the camp over there; she's got holt of that fool,
and she'll clean him out before she's done," I said. "We're Alf's mates,
any way it goes, and we ought to put a stop to it."
"What hussy?" asked Mitchell; "there's three or four there."
"The one with her hair all over her head," I answered.
"Where else should it be?" asked Mitchell. "But I'll just have a peep
and see who it is. There's no harm in that."
He crept up to the tent and cautiously moved the flap. Alf's candle
was alight; he lay on his back in his bunk with his arms under his head,
calmly smoking. We withdrew.
"They must have heard us," said Mitchell; "and she's slipped out
under the tent at the back, and through the fence into the scrub."
Mitchell's respect for Alf increased visibly.
But we began to hear ominous whispers from the young married couples,
and next Saturday night, which was pay-night, we decided to see it through.
We did not care to speak to Alf until we were sure. He stayed in camp,
as he often did, on Saturday evening, while the others went up town.
Mitchell and I returned earlier than usual, and leaned on the fence
at the back of Alf's tent.
We were scarcely there when we were startled by a "rat-tat-tat" as of someone
knocking at a door. Then an old woman's voice INSIDE the tent asked:
"Who's there?"
"It's me," said Alf's voice from the front, "Mr. O'Briar from Perth."
"Mary, go and open the door!" said the old woman. (Mitchell nudged me
to keep quiet.)
"Come in, Mr. O'Breer," said the old woman. "Come in. How do you do?
When did you get back?"
"Only last night," said Alf.
"Look at that now! Bless us all! And how did you like the country at all?"
"I didn't care much for it," said Alf. We lost the thread of it
until the old woman spoke again.
"Have you had your tea, Mr. O'Breer?"
"Yes, thank you, Mrs. O'Connor."
"Are you quite sure, man?"
"Quite sure, thank you, Mrs. O'Connor." (Mitchell trod on my foot.)
"Will you have a drop of whisky or a glass of beer, Mr. O'Breer?"
"I'll take a glass of beer, thank you, Mrs. O'Connor."
There seemed to be a long pause. Then the old woman said, "Ah, well,
I must get my work done, and Mary will stop here and keep you company,
Mr. O'Breer." The arrangement seemed satisfactory to all parties,
for there was nothing more said for a while. (Mitchell nudged me again,
with emphasis, and I kicked his shin.)
Presently Alf said: "Mary!" And a girl's voice said, "Yes, Alf."
"You remember the night I went away, Mary?"
"Yes, Alf, I do."
"I have travelled long ways since then, Mary; I worked hard and lived close.
I didn't make my fortune, but I managed to rub a note or two together.
It was a hard time and a lonesome time for me, Mary.
The summer's awful over there, and livin's bad and dear.
You couldn't have any idea of it, Mary."
"No, Alf."
"I didn't come back so well off as I expected."
"But that doesn't matter, Alf."
"I got heart-sick and tired of it, and couldn't stand it any longer, Mary."
"But that's all over now, Alf; you mustn't think of it."
"Your mother wrote to me."
"I know she did" -- (very low and gently).
"And do you know what she put in it, Mary?"
"Yes, Alf."
"And did you ask her to put it in?"
"Don't ask me, Alf."
"And it's all true, Mary?"
There was no answer, but the silence seemed satisfactory.
"And be sure you have yourself down here on Sunday, Alf, me son."
("There's the old woman come back!" said Mitchell.)
"An' since the girl's willin' to have ye, and the ould woman's willin' --
there's me hand on it, Alf, me boy. An' God bless ye both."
("The old man's come now," said Mitchell.)
. . . . .
"Come along," said Mitchell, leading the way to the front of the tent.
"But I wouldn't like to intrude on them. It's hardly right, Mitchell, is it?"
"That's all right," said Mitchell. He tapped the tent pole.
"Come in," said Alf. Alf was lying on his bunk as before, with his arms
under his head. His face wore a cheerful, not to say happy, expression.
There was no one else in the tent. I was never more surprised in my life.
"Have you got the paper, Alf?" said Mitchell.
"Yes. You'll find it there at the foot of the bunk. There it is.
Won't you sit down, Mitchell?"
"Not to-night," said Mitchell. "We brought you a bottle of ale.
We're just going to turn in."
And we said "good-night". "Well," I said to Mitchell when we got inside,
"what do you think of it?"
"I don't think of it at all," said Mitchell. "Do you mean to say
you can't see it now?"
"No, I'm dashed if I can," I said. "Some of us must be drunk, I think,
or getting rats. It's not to be wondered at, and the sooner
we get out of this country the better."
"Well, you must be a fool, Joe," said Mitchell. "Can't you see?
ALF THINKS ALOUD."
"WHAT?"
"Talks to himself. He was thinking about going back to his sweetheart.
Don't you know he's a bit of a ventriloquist?"
Mitchell lay awake a long time, in the position that Alf usually lay in,
and thought. Perhaps he thought on the same lines as Alf did that night.
But Mitchell did his thinking in silence.
We thought it best to tell the Oracle quietly. He was deeply interested,
but not surprised. "I've heerd of such cases before," he said.
But the Oracle was a gentleman. "There's things that a man
and drank slowly and steadily.
Then he took pity on the impatient and anxious population, opened his mouth,
and spake.
"Look here, fellows," he drawled, jerking his arm in the direction
of the river, "I'll tell you what I'll dew. I'll bottle
that damned river of yourn in twenty-four hours!"
Later on he mellowed a bit, under the influence of several drinks
which were carefully and conscientiously "built" from plans and specifications
supplied by himself, and then, among other things, he said:
"If that there river rises as high as you say it dew -- and if this
was the States -- why, we'd have had the Great Eastern up here
twenty years ago" ---- or words to that effect.
Then he added, reflectively:
"When I come over here I calculated that I was going
to make things hum, but now I guess I'll have to change my prospectus.
There's a lot of loose energy laying round over our way,
but I guess that if I wanted to make things move in your country
I'd have to bring over the entire American nation -- also his wife and dawg.
You've got the makings of a glorious nation over here,
but you don't get up early enough!"
. . . . .
The only national work performed by the blacks is on the Darling.
They threw a dam of rocks across the river -- near Brewarrina, we think --
to make a fish trap. It's there yet. But God only knows
where they got the stones from, or how they carried them,
for there isn't a pebble within forty miles.
A Case for the Oracle
The Oracle and I were camped together. The Oracle was a bricklayer by trade,
and had two or three small contracts on hand. I was "doing a bit
of house-painting". There were a plasterer, a carpenter, and a plumber --
we were all T'othersiders, and old mates, and we worked things together.
It was in Westralia -- the Land of T'othersiders -- and, therefore,
we were not surprised when Mitchell turned up early one morning,
with his swag and an atmosphere of salt water about him.
He'd had a rough trip, he said, and would take a spell that day
and take the lay of the land and have something cooked for us
by the time we came home; and go to graft himself next morning.
And next morning he went to work, "labouring" for the Oracle.
The Oracle and his mates, being small contractors and not pressed for time,
had dispensed with the services of a labourer, and had done
their own mixing and hod-carrying in turns. They didn't want a labourer now,
but the Oracle was a vague fatalist, and Mitchell a decided one.
So it passed.
The Oracle had a "Case" right under his nose -- in his own employ, in fact;
but was not aware of the fact until Mitchell drew his attention to it.
The Case went by the name of Alfred O'Briar -- which hinted a mixed parentage.
He was a small, nervous working-man, of no particular colour,
and no decidedcharacter, apparently. If he had a soul above bricks,
he never betrayed it. He was not popular on the jobs.
There was something sly about Alf, they said.
The Oracle had taken him on in the first place as a day-labourer,
but afterwards shared the pay with him as with Mitchell.
O'Briar shouted -- judiciously, but on every possible occasion --
for the Oracle; and, as he was an indifferent workman,
the boys said he only did this so that the Oracle might keep him on.
If O'Briar took things easy and did no more than the rest of us,
at least one of us would be sure to get it into his head
that he was loafing on us; and if he grafted harder than we did,
we'd be sure to feel indignant about that too, and reckon that it was done
out of nastiness or crawlsomeness, and feel a contempt for him accordingly.
We found out accidentally that O'Briar was an excellent mimic
and a bit of a ventriloquist, but he never entertained us
with his peculiar gifts; and we set that down to churlishness.
O'Briar kept his own counsel, and his history, if he had one;
and hid his hopes, joys, and sorrows, if he had any, behind a vacant grin,
as Mitchell hid his behind a quizzical one. He never resented alleged satire
-- perhaps he couldn't see it -- and therefore he got the name of being a cur.
As a rule, he was careful with his money, and was called mean --
not, however, by the Oracle, whose philosophy was simple,
and whose sympathy could not realise a limit; nor yet by Mitchell.
Mitchell waited.
. . . . .
O'Briar occupied a small tent by himself, and lived privately of evenings.
When we began to hear two men talking at night in his tent,
we were rather surprised, and wondered in a vague kind of way
how any of the chaps could take sufficient interest in Alf
to go in and yarn with him. In the days when he was supposed to be sociable,
we had voted him a bore; even the Oracle was moved to admit
that he was "a bit slow".
But late one night we distinctly heard a woman's voice in O'Briar's tent.
The Oracle suddenly became hard of hearing, and, though we heard the voice
on several occasions, he remained exasperatingly deaf,
yet aggressively unconscious of the fact. "I have got enough to do
puzzling over me own whys and wherefores," he said. Mitchell began
to take some interest in O'Briar, and treated him with greater respect.
But our camp had the name of being the best-constructed,
the cleanest, and the most respectable in the vicinity.
The health officer and constable in charge had complimented us on the fact,
and we were proud of it. And there were three young married couples in camp,
also a Darby and Joan; therefore, when the voice of a woman began to be heard
frequently and at disreputable hours of the night in O'Briar's tent,
we got uneasy about it. And when the constable who was on night duty
gave us a friendly hint, Mitchell and I agreed that something must be done.
"Av coorse, men will be men," said the constable, as he turned
his horse's head, "but I thought I'd mention it. O'Briar is a dacent man,
and he's one of yer mates. Av coorse. There's a bad lot in that camp
in the scrub over yander, and -- av coorse. Good-day to ye, byes."
. . . . .
Next night we heard the voice in O'Briar's tent again,
and decided to speak to Alf in a friendly way about it in the morning.
We listened outside in the dark, but could not distinguish the words,
though I thought I recognised the voice.
"It's the hussy from the camp over there; she's got holt of that fool,
and she'll clean him out before she's done," I said. "We're Alf's mates,
any way it goes, and we ought to put a stop to it."
"What hussy?" asked Mitchell; "there's three or four there."
"The one with her hair all over her head," I answered.
"Where else should it be?" asked Mitchell. "But I'll just have a peep
and see who it is. There's no harm in that."
He crept up to the tent and cautiously moved the flap. Alf's candle
was alight; he lay on his back in his bunk with his arms under his head,
calmly smoking. We withdrew.
"They must have heard us," said Mitchell; "and she's slipped out
under the tent at the back, and through the fence into the scrub."
Mitchell's respect for Alf increased visibly.
But we began to hear ominous whispers from the young married couples,
and next Saturday night, which was pay-night, we decided to see it through.
We did not care to speak to Alf until we were sure. He stayed in camp,
as he often did, on Saturday evening, while the others went up town.
Mitchell and I returned earlier than usual, and leaned on the fence
at the back of Alf's tent.
We were scarcely there when we were startled by a "rat-tat-tat" as of someone
knocking at a door. Then an old woman's voice INSIDE the tent asked:
"Who's there?"
"It's me," said Alf's voice from the front, "Mr. O'Briar from Perth."
"Mary, go and open the door!" said the old woman. (Mitchell nudged me
to keep quiet.)
"Come in, Mr. O'Breer," said the old woman. "Come in. How do you do?
When did you get back?"
"Only last night," said Alf.
"Look at that now! Bless us all! And how did you like the country at all?"
"I didn't care much for it," said Alf. We lost the thread of it
until the old woman spoke again.
"Have you had your tea, Mr. O'Breer?"
"Yes, thank you, Mrs. O'Connor."
"Are you quite sure, man?"
"Quite sure, thank you, Mrs. O'Connor." (Mitchell trod on my foot.)
"Will you have a drop of whisky or a glass of beer, Mr. O'Breer?"
"I'll take a glass of beer, thank you, Mrs. O'Connor."
There seemed to be a long pause. Then the old woman said, "Ah, well,
I must get my work done, and Mary will stop here and keep you company,
Mr. O'Breer." The arrangement seemed satisfactory to all parties,
for there was nothing more said for a while. (Mitchell nudged me again,
with emphasis, and I kicked his shin.)
Presently Alf said: "Mary!" And a girl's voice said, "Yes, Alf."
"You remember the night I went away, Mary?"
"Yes, Alf, I do."
"I have travelled long ways since then, Mary; I worked hard and lived close.
I didn't make my fortune, but I managed to rub a note or two together.
It was a hard time and a lonesome time for me, Mary.
The summer's awful over there, and livin's bad and dear.
You couldn't have any idea of it, Mary."
"No, Alf."
"I didn't come back so well off as I expected."
"But that doesn't matter, Alf."
"I got heart-sick and tired of it, and couldn't stand it any longer, Mary."
"But that's all over now, Alf; you mustn't think of it."
"Your mother wrote to me."
"I know she did" -- (very low and gently).
"And do you know what she put in it, Mary?"
"Yes, Alf."
"And did you ask her to put it in?"
"Don't ask me, Alf."
"And it's all true, Mary?"
There was no answer, but the silence seemed satisfactory.
"And be sure you have yourself down here on Sunday, Alf, me son."
("There's the old woman come back!" said Mitchell.)
"An' since the girl's willin' to have ye, and the ould woman's willin' --
there's me hand on it, Alf, me boy. An' God bless ye both."
("The old man's come now," said Mitchell.)
. . . . .
"Come along," said Mitchell, leading the way to the front of the tent.
"But I wouldn't like to intrude on them. It's hardly right, Mitchell, is it?"
"That's all right," said Mitchell. He tapped the tent pole.
"Come in," said Alf. Alf was lying on his bunk as before, with his arms
under his head. His face wore a cheerful, not to say happy, expression.
There was no one else in the tent. I was never more surprised in my life.
"Have you got the paper, Alf?" said Mitchell.
"Yes. You'll find it there at the foot of the bunk. There it is.
Won't you sit down, Mitchell?"
"Not to-night," said Mitchell. "We brought you a bottle of ale.
We're just going to turn in."
And we said "good-night". "Well," I said to Mitchell when we got inside,
"what do you think of it?"
"I don't think of it at all," said Mitchell. "Do you mean to say
you can't see it now?"
"No, I'm dashed if I can," I said. "Some of us must be drunk, I think,
or getting rats. It's not to be wondered at, and the sooner
we get out of this country the better."
"Well, you must be a fool, Joe," said Mitchell. "Can't you see?
ALF THINKS ALOUD."
"WHAT?"
"Talks to himself. He was thinking about going back to his sweetheart.
Don't you know he's a bit of a ventriloquist?"
Mitchell lay awake a long time, in the position that Alf usually lay in,
and thought. Perhaps he thought on the same lines as Alf did that night.
But Mitchell did his thinking in silence.
We thought it best to tell the Oracle quietly. He was deeply interested,
but not surprised. "I've heerd of such cases before," he said.
But the Oracle was a gentleman. "There's things that a man
- anxious [´æŋkʃəs]
a.担忧的；渴望的 (初中英语单词) - energy [´enədʒi] n.活力，精力；能力 (初中英语单词)
- glorious [´glɔ:riəs] a.光荣的；辉煌的 (初中英语单词)
- carpenter [´kɑ:pintə] n.木工 vi.做木工活 (初中英语单词)
- atmosphere [´ætməsfiə] n.大气；空气；气氛 (初中英语单词)
- nervous [´nə:vəs] a.神经的；神经过敏的 (初中英语单词)
- character [´kæriktə] n.特性；性质；人物；字 (初中英语单词)
- reckon [´rekən] v.计算；认为；估计 (初中英语单词)
- peculiar [pi´kju:liə] a.特有的；奇异的 (初中英语单词)
- counsel [´kaunsəl] n.商议；劝告；律师 (初中英语单词)
- vacant [´veikənt] a.空虚的，无表情的 (初中英语单词)
- therefore [´ðeəfɔ:] ad.&conj.因此；所以 (初中英语单词)
- philosophy [fi´lɔsəfi] n.哲学；人生观 (初中英语单词)
- sympathy [´simpəθi] n.同情，怜悯 (初中英语单词)
- supposed [sə´pəuzd] a.想象的；假定的 (初中英语单词)
- distinctly [di´stiŋktli] ad.清楚地，明晰地 (初中英语单词)
- charge [tʃɑ:dʒ] v.收费；冲锋 n.费用 (初中英语单词)
- distinguish [di´stiŋgwiʃ] v.区分；识别；立功 (初中英语单词)
- alight [ə´lait] a.燃着的 vi.下；降落 (初中英语单词)
- arrangement [ə´reindʒmənt] n.整理；排列；筹备 (初中英语单词)
- satisfactory [,sætis´fæktəri] a.令人满意的 (初中英语单词)
- cheerful [´tʃiəful] a.快乐的；高兴的 (初中英语单词)
- impatient [im´peiʃənt] a.不耐烦的，急躁的 (高中英语单词)
- damned [dæmd] a.该死的 ad.非常，极 (高中英语单词)
- pebble [´pebəl] n.卵石 v.(用卵石)铺 (高中英语单词)
- oracle [´ɔrəkl] n.预言(者)；圣理名言 (高中英语单词)
- decided [di´saidid] a.明显的；决定的 (高中英语单词)
- apparently [ə´pærəntli] ad.显然，表面上地 (高中英语单词)
- indifferent [in´difrənt] a.不关心的；中立的 (高中英语单词)
- contempt [kən´tempt] n.轻蔑；受辱；不顾 (高中英语单词)
- hearing [´hiəriŋ] n.听力；听证会；审讯 (高中英语单词)
- unconscious [ʌn´kɔnʃəs] a.无意识的；不觉察的 (高中英语单词)
- respectable [ri´spektəbəl] a.可敬的；有身价的 (高中英语单词)
- constable [´kʌnstəbəl] n.警察；警官 (高中英语单词)
- uneasy [ʌn´i:zi] a.不安的；不自在的 (高中英语单词)
- cautiously [´kɔ:ʃəsli] ad.小心地；谨慎地 (高中英语单词)
- emphasis [´emfəsis] n.强调；重点 (高中英语单词)
- lonesome [´ləunsəm] a.孤独的；冷清清的 (高中英语单词)
- indignant [in´dignənt] a.义愤的，愤慨的 (英语四级单词)
- ominous [´ɔminəs] a.不祥的；预示的 (英语四级单词)
- intrude [in´tru:d] v.闯进；打扰；强加 (英语四级单词)
- accidentally [,æksi´dentəli] ad.偶然地 (英语六级单词)
- privately [´praivitli] ad.秘密，一个人 (英语六级单词)
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