章节正文
over the records with him. They decided that the letter
might have been sent by Mexico Sam, a half-breed border
desperado who had been imprisoned for manslaughter
four years before. Then official duties crowded the mat-
ter from his mind, and the rattle of the revengeful serpent
was forgotten.
Court was in session at Brownsville. Most of the cases
to be tried were charges of smuggling, counterfeiting,
post-office robberies, and violations of Federal laws along
the border. One case was that of a young Mexican,
Rafael Ortiz, who had been rounded up by a clever
deputymarshal in the act of passing a counterfeit silver
dollar. He had been suspected of many such deviations
from rectitude, but this was the first time that anything
provable had been fixed upon him. Ortiz languished
cozily in jail, smoking brown cigarettes and waiting for
trial. Kilpatrick, the deputy, brought the counterfeit
dollar and handed it to the district attorney in his office
in the court-house. The deputy and a reputable druggist
were prepared to swear that Ortiz paid for a bottle of
medicine with it. The coin was a poor counterfeit, soft,
dull-looking, and made principally of lead. It was the
day before the morning on which the docket would reach
the case of Ortiz, and the district attorney was preparing
himself for trial.
"Not much need of having in high-priced experts to
prove the coin's queer, is there, Kil?" smiled Littlefield,
as he thumped the dollar down upon the table, where it
fell with no more ring than would have come from a lump
of putty.
"I guess the Greaser's as good as behind the bars,"
said the deputy, easing up his holsters. "You've got
him dead. If it had been just one time, these Mexicans
can't tell good money from bad; but this little yaller
rascal belongs to a gang of counterfeiters, I know. This
is the first time I've been able to catch him doing the trick.
He's got a girl down there in them Mexican jacals on
the river bank. I seen her one day when I was watching
him. She's as pretty as a red heifer in a flower bed."
Littlefield shoved the counterfeit dollar into his pocket,
and slipped his memoranda of the case into an envelope.
Just then a bright, winsome face, as frank and jolly as
a boy's, appeared in the doorway, and in walked Nancy
Derwent.
"Oh, Bob, didn't court adjourn at twelve to-day until
to-morrow?" she asked of Littlefield.
"It did," said the district attorney, "and I'm very glad
of it. I've got a lot of rulings to look up, and -- "
"Now, that's just like you. I wonder you and father
don't turn to law books or rulings or something! I
want you to take me out plover-shooting this afternoon.
Long Prairie is just alive with them. Don't say no,
please! I want to try my new twelve-bore hammerless.
I've sent to the liverystable to engage Fly and Bess for
the buckboard; they stand fire so nicely. I was sure you
would go."
They were to be married in the fall. The glamour was
at its height. The plovers won the day -- or, rather, the
afternoon -- over the calf-bound authorities. Littlefield
began to put his papers away.
There was a knock at the door. Kilpatrick answered
it. A beautiful, dark-eyed girl with a skin tinged with
the faintest lemon colour walked into the room. A black
shawl was thrown over her head and wound once around
her neck.
She began to talk in Spanish, a voluble, mournful
stream of melancholy music. Littlefield did not under-
stand Spanish. The deputy did, and he translated her
talk by portions, at intervals holding up his hand to check
the flow of her words.
"She came to see you, Mr. Littlefield. Her name's
Joya Trevi锟絘s. She wants to see you about -- well,
she's mixed up with that Rafael Ortiz. She's his -- she's
his girl. She says he's innocent. She says she made
the money and got him to pass it. Don't you believe
her, Mr. Little-field. That's the way with these Mexi-
can girls; they'll lie, steal, or kill for a fellow when they
get stuck on him. Never trust a woman that's in love!"
"Mr. Kilpatrick!"
Nancy Derwent's indignantexclamation caused the
deputy to flounder for a moment in attempting to explain
that he had misquoted his own sentiments, and then he
event on with the translation:
"She says she's willing to take his place in the jail if
you'll let him out. She says she was down sick with the
fever, and the doctor said she'd die if she didn't have
medicine. That's why he passed the lead dollar on the
drug store. She says it saved her life. This Rafal.
seems to be her honey, all right; there's a lot of stuff in
her talk about love and such things that you don't want to
hear."
It was an old story to the district attorney.
"Tell her," said he, "that I can do nothing. The case
comes up in the morning, and he will have to make his
fight before the court."
Nancy Derwent was not so hardened. She was look-
ing with sympathetic interest at Joya Trevi锟絘s and at
Littlefield alternately. The deputyrepeated the dis-
trict attorney's words to the girl. She spoke a sentence
or two in a low voice, pulled her shawl closely about her
face, and left the room.
"What did she say then?" asked the district attorney.
"Nothing special," said the deputy. "She said: 'If
the life of the one' -- let's see how it went -- 'Si la vida
de ella a quien tu amas -- if the life of the girl you love is
ever in danger, remember Rafael Ortiz.'"
Kilpatrick strolled out through the corridor in the
direction of the marshal's office.
"Can't you do anything for them, Bob?" asked Nancy.
"It's such a little thing -- just one counterfeit dollar --
to ruin the happiness of two lives! She was in danger
of death, and he did it to save her. Doesn't the law know
the feeling of pity?"
"It hasn't a place in jurisprudence, Nan," said Little-
field, "especially in re the district attorney's duty. I'll
promise you that the prosecution will not be vindictive;
but the man is as good as convicted when the case is called.
Witnesses will swear to his passing the bad dollar which
I have in my pocket at this moment as 'Exhibit A.' There
are no Mexicans on the jury, and it will vote Mr. Greaser
guilty without leaving the box."
The plover-shooting was fine that afternoon, and in
the excitement of the sport the case of Rafael and the
grief of Joya Trevi锟絘s was forgotten. The district attor-
ney and Nancy Derwent drove out from the town three
miles along a smooth, grassy road, and then struck across
a rolling prairie toward a heavy line of timber on Piedra
Creek. Beyond this creek lay Long Prairie, the favourite
haunt of the plover. As they were nearing the creek
they heard the galloping of a horse to their right, and
saw a man with black hair and a swarthy face riding
toward the woods at a tangent, as if he had come up
behind them.
"I've seen that fellow somewhere," said Littlefield, who
had a memory for faces, "but I can't exactly place him.
Some ranchman, I suppose, taking a short cut home."
They spent an hour on Long Prairie, shooting from
the buckboard. Nancy Derwent, an active, outdoor
Western girl, was pleased with her twelve-bore. She
had bagged within two brace of her companion's score.
They started homeward at a gentle trot. When within
a hundred yards of Piedra Creek a man rode out of the
timber directly toward them.
"It looks like the man we saw coming over," remarked
Miss Derwent.
As the distance between them lessened, the district
attorney suddenly pulled up his team sharply, with his
eyes fixed upon the advancing horseman. That individ-
ual had drawn a Winchester from its scabbard on his
saddle and thrown it over his arm.
"Now I know you, Mexico Sam!" muttered Littlefield
to himself. "It was you who shook your rattles in that
gentle epistle."
Mexico Sam did not leave things long in doubt. He
had a nice eye in all matters relating to firearms, so when
he was within good rifle range, but outside of danger
from No. 8 shot, he threw up his Winchester and opened
fire upon the occupants of the buckboard.
The first shot cracked the back of the seat within the
two-inch space between the shoulders of Littlefield and
Miss Derwent. The next went through the dashboard
and Littlefield's trouser leg.
The district attorney hustled Nancy out of the buck-
board to the ground. She was a little pale, but asked no
questions. She had the frontierinstinct that accepts
conditions in an emergency without superfluous argument.
They kept their guns in hand, and Littlefield hastily
gathered some handfuls of cartridges from the pasteboard
box on the seat and crowded them into his pockets
"Keep behind the horses, Nan," he commanded.
"That fellow is a ruffian I sent to prison once. He's
trying to get even. He knows our shot won't hurt him
at that distance."
"All right, Bob," said Nancy steadily. "I'm not
afraid. But you come close, too. Whoa, Bess; stand
still, now!"
She stroked Bess's mane. Littlefield stood with his
gun ready, praying that the desperado would come within
range.
But Mexico Sam was playing his vendetta along safe
lines. He was a bird of different feather from the plover.
His accurate eye drew an imaginary line of circumference
around the area of danger from bird-shot, and upon this
line lie rode. His horse wheeled to the right, and as his
victims rounded to the safe side of their equine breast-
work he sent a ball through the district attorney's hat.
Once he miscalculated in making a d锟絫our, and over-
stepped Ms margin. Littlefield's gun flashed, and
Mexico Sam ducked his head to the harmlesspatter of the
shot. A few of them stung his horse, which pranced
promptly back to the safety line.
The desperado fired again. A little cry came from
Nancy Derwent. Littlefield whirled, with blazing eyes,
and saw the blood trickling down her cheek.
"I'm not hurt, Bob -- only a splinter struck me. I
think he hit one of the wheel-spokes."
"Lord!" groaned Littlefield. "If I only had a charge
of buckshot!"
The ruffian got his horse still, and took careful aim.
Fly gave a snort and fell in the harness, struck in the
neck. Bess, now disabused of the idea that plover were
might have been sent by Mexico Sam, a half-breed border
desperado who had been imprisoned for manslaughter
four years before. Then official duties crowded the mat-
ter from his mind, and the rattle of the revengeful serpent
was forgotten.
Court was in session at Brownsville. Most of the cases
to be tried were charges of smuggling, counterfeiting,
post-office robberies, and violations of Federal laws along
the border. One case was that of a young Mexican,
Rafael Ortiz, who had been rounded up by a clever
deputymarshal in the act of passing a counterfeit silver
dollar. He had been suspected of many such deviations
from rectitude, but this was the first time that anything
provable had been fixed upon him. Ortiz languished
cozily in jail, smoking brown cigarettes and waiting for
trial. Kilpatrick, the deputy, brought the counterfeit
dollar and handed it to the district attorney in his office
in the court-house. The deputy and a reputable druggist
were prepared to swear that Ortiz paid for a bottle of
medicine with it. The coin was a poor counterfeit, soft,
dull-looking, and made principally of lead. It was the
day before the morning on which the docket would reach
the case of Ortiz, and the district attorney was preparing
himself for trial.
"Not much need of having in high-priced experts to
prove the coin's queer, is there, Kil?" smiled Littlefield,
as he thumped the dollar down upon the table, where it
fell with no more ring than would have come from a lump
of putty.
"I guess the Greaser's as good as behind the bars,"
said the deputy, easing up his holsters. "You've got
him dead. If it had been just one time, these Mexicans
can't tell good money from bad; but this little yaller
rascal belongs to a gang of counterfeiters, I know. This
is the first time I've been able to catch him doing the trick.
He's got a girl down there in them Mexican jacals on
the river bank. I seen her one day when I was watching
him. She's as pretty as a red heifer in a flower bed."
Littlefield shoved the counterfeit dollar into his pocket,
and slipped his memoranda of the case into an envelope.
Just then a bright, winsome face, as frank and jolly as
a boy's, appeared in the doorway, and in walked Nancy
Derwent.
"Oh, Bob, didn't court adjourn at twelve to-day until
to-morrow?" she asked of Littlefield.
"It did," said the district attorney, "and I'm very glad
of it. I've got a lot of rulings to look up, and -- "
"Now, that's just like you. I wonder you and father
don't turn to law books or rulings or something! I
want you to take me out plover-shooting this afternoon.
Long Prairie is just alive with them. Don't say no,
please! I want to try my new twelve-bore hammerless.
I've sent to the liverystable to engage Fly and Bess for
the buckboard; they stand fire so nicely. I was sure you
would go."
They were to be married in the fall. The glamour was
at its height. The plovers won the day -- or, rather, the
afternoon -- over the calf-bound authorities. Littlefield
began to put his papers away.
There was a knock at the door. Kilpatrick answered
it. A beautiful, dark-eyed girl with a skin tinged with
the faintest lemon colour walked into the room. A black
shawl was thrown over her head and wound once around
her neck.
She began to talk in Spanish, a voluble, mournful
stream of melancholy music. Littlefield did not under-
stand Spanish. The deputy did, and he translated her
talk by portions, at intervals holding up his hand to check
the flow of her words.
"She came to see you, Mr. Littlefield. Her name's
Joya Trevi锟絘s. She wants to see you about -- well,
she's mixed up with that Rafael Ortiz. She's his -- she's
his girl. She says he's innocent. She says she made
the money and got him to pass it. Don't you believe
her, Mr. Little-field. That's the way with these Mexi-
can girls; they'll lie, steal, or kill for a fellow when they
get stuck on him. Never trust a woman that's in love!"
"Mr. Kilpatrick!"
Nancy Derwent's indignantexclamation caused the
deputy to flounder for a moment in attempting to explain
that he had misquoted his own sentiments, and then he
event on with the translation:
"She says she's willing to take his place in the jail if
you'll let him out. She says she was down sick with the
fever, and the doctor said she'd die if she didn't have
medicine. That's why he passed the lead dollar on the
drug store. She says it saved her life. This Rafal.
seems to be her honey, all right; there's a lot of stuff in
her talk about love and such things that you don't want to
hear."
It was an old story to the district attorney.
"Tell her," said he, "that I can do nothing. The case
comes up in the morning, and he will have to make his
fight before the court."
Nancy Derwent was not so hardened. She was look-
ing with sympathetic interest at Joya Trevi锟絘s and at
Littlefield alternately. The deputyrepeated the dis-
trict attorney's words to the girl. She spoke a sentence
or two in a low voice, pulled her shawl closely about her
face, and left the room.
"What did she say then?" asked the district attorney.
"Nothing special," said the deputy. "She said: 'If
the life of the one' -- let's see how it went -- 'Si la vida
de ella a quien tu amas -- if the life of the girl you love is
ever in danger, remember Rafael Ortiz.'"
Kilpatrick strolled out through the corridor in the
direction of the marshal's office.
"Can't you do anything for them, Bob?" asked Nancy.
"It's such a little thing -- just one counterfeit dollar --
to ruin the happiness of two lives! She was in danger
of death, and he did it to save her. Doesn't the law know
the feeling of pity?"
"It hasn't a place in jurisprudence, Nan," said Little-
field, "especially in re the district attorney's duty. I'll
promise you that the prosecution will not be vindictive;
but the man is as good as convicted when the case is called.
Witnesses will swear to his passing the bad dollar which
I have in my pocket at this moment as 'Exhibit A.' There
are no Mexicans on the jury, and it will vote Mr. Greaser
guilty without leaving the box."
The plover-shooting was fine that afternoon, and in
the excitement of the sport the case of Rafael and the
grief of Joya Trevi锟絘s was forgotten. The district attor-
ney and Nancy Derwent drove out from the town three
miles along a smooth, grassy road, and then struck across
a rolling prairie toward a heavy line of timber on Piedra
Creek. Beyond this creek lay Long Prairie, the favourite
haunt of the plover. As they were nearing the creek
they heard the galloping of a horse to their right, and
saw a man with black hair and a swarthy face riding
toward the woods at a tangent, as if he had come up
behind them.
"I've seen that fellow somewhere," said Littlefield, who
had a memory for faces, "but I can't exactly place him.
Some ranchman, I suppose, taking a short cut home."
They spent an hour on Long Prairie, shooting from
the buckboard. Nancy Derwent, an active, outdoor
Western girl, was pleased with her twelve-bore. She
had bagged within two brace of her companion's score.
They started homeward at a gentle trot. When within
a hundred yards of Piedra Creek a man rode out of the
timber directly toward them.
"It looks like the man we saw coming over," remarked
Miss Derwent.
As the distance between them lessened, the district
attorney suddenly pulled up his team sharply, with his
eyes fixed upon the advancing horseman. That individ-
ual had drawn a Winchester from its scabbard on his
saddle and thrown it over his arm.
"Now I know you, Mexico Sam!" muttered Littlefield
to himself. "It was you who shook your rattles in that
gentle epistle."
Mexico Sam did not leave things long in doubt. He
had a nice eye in all matters relating to firearms, so when
he was within good rifle range, but outside of danger
from No. 8 shot, he threw up his Winchester and opened
fire upon the occupants of the buckboard.
The first shot cracked the back of the seat within the
two-inch space between the shoulders of Littlefield and
Miss Derwent. The next went through the dashboard
and Littlefield's trouser leg.
The district attorney hustled Nancy out of the buck-
board to the ground. She was a little pale, but asked no
questions. She had the frontierinstinct that accepts
conditions in an emergency without superfluous argument.
They kept their guns in hand, and Littlefield hastily
gathered some handfuls of cartridges from the pasteboard
box on the seat and crowded them into his pockets
"Keep behind the horses, Nan," he commanded.
"That fellow is a ruffian I sent to prison once. He's
trying to get even. He knows our shot won't hurt him
at that distance."
"All right, Bob," said Nancy steadily. "I'm not
afraid. But you come close, too. Whoa, Bess; stand
still, now!"
She stroked Bess's mane. Littlefield stood with his
gun ready, praying that the desperado would come within
range.
But Mexico Sam was playing his vendetta along safe
lines. He was a bird of different feather from the plover.
His accurate eye drew an imaginary line of circumference
around the area of danger from bird-shot, and upon this
line lie rode. His horse wheeled to the right, and as his
victims rounded to the safe side of their equine breast-
work he sent a ball through the district attorney's hat.
Once he miscalculated in making a d锟絫our, and over-
stepped Ms margin. Littlefield's gun flashed, and
Mexico Sam ducked his head to the harmlesspatter of the
shot. A few of them stung his horse, which pranced
promptly back to the safety line.
The desperado fired again. A little cry came from
Nancy Derwent. Littlefield whirled, with blazing eyes,
and saw the blood trickling down her cheek.
"I'm not hurt, Bob -- only a splinter struck me. I
think he hit one of the wheel-spokes."
"Lord!" groaned Littlefield. "If I only had a charge
of buckshot!"
The ruffian got his horse still, and took careful aim.
Fly gave a snort and fell in the harness, struck in the
neck. Bess, now disabused of the idea that plover were
- mexico [´meksikəu]
n.墨西哥 (初中英语单词) - rattle [´rætl] n.嘎吱声 (初中英语单词)
- federal [´fedərəl] a.联邦的，联邦制的 (初中英语单词)
- waiting [´weitiŋ] n.等候；伺候 (初中英语单词)
- attorney [ə´tə:ni] n.代理人；律师 (初中英语单词)
- mexican [´meksikən] n.&a.墨西哥人(语)的 (初中英语单词)
- doorway [´dɔ:wei] n.门口 (初中英语单词)
- adjourn [ə´dʒə:n] v.休会；延期；移居 (初中英语单词)
- prairie [´preəri] n.大草原 (初中英语单词)
- stable [´steibəl] n.马棚 a.稳固的 (初中英语单词)
- nicely [naisli] ad.恰好地；谨慎地 (初中英语单词)
- height [hait] n.高度；顶点；卓越 (初中英语单词)
- innocent [´inəsənt] a.无罪的；单纯的 (初中英语单词)
- willing [´wiliŋ] a.情愿的，乐意的 (初中英语单词)
- sympathetic [,simpə´θetik] a.同情的，有同情心的 (初中英语单词)
- excitement [ik´saitmənt] n.兴奋；骚动；煽动 (初中英语单词)
- timber [´timbə] n.木材；木料；横梁 (初中英语单词)
- sharply [´ʃɑ:pli] ad.锋利地；剧烈地 (初中英语单词)
- frontier [´frʌntiə] n.国境；边疆；边界 (初中英语单词)
- instinct [´instiŋkt] n.本能；直觉；天资 (初中英语单词)
- steadily [´stedili] ad.坚定地；不断地 (初中英语单词)
- feather [´feðə] n.羽毛 (初中英语单词)
- accurate [´ækjurət] a.准确的；精密的 (初中英语单词)
- harness [´hɑ:nis] vt.上马具 n.马具 (初中英语单词)
- decided [di´saidid] a.明显的；决定的 (高中英语单词)
- crowded [´kraudid] a.充(拥)满了的 (高中英语单词)
- session [´seʃən] n.会议；会期；(开庭)期 (高中英语单词)
- deputy [´depjuti] n.代理人；代表 (高中英语单词)
- principally [´prinsəpli] ad.主要地；大体上 (高中英语单词)
- melancholy [´melənkəli] n.忧郁 a.忧郁的 (高中英语单词)
- repeated [ri´pi:tid] a.反复的；重复的 (高中英语单词)
- corridor [´kɔridɔ:] n.走廊；指定航路 (高中英语单词)
- homeward [´həumwəd] ad.&a.回家(的) (高中英语单词)
- horseman [´hɔ:smən] n.骑手，马术师 (高中英语单词)
- emergency [i´mə:dʒənsi] n.事变；紧急关头 (高中英语单词)
- imaginary [i´mædʒinəri] a.想象的；虚构的 (高中英语单词)
- margin [´mɑ:dʒin] n.边缘；空白；余地 (高中英语单词)
- harmless [´hɑ:mləs] a.无害的，无恶意的 (高中英语单词)
- marshal [´mɑ:ʃəl] n.(陆军)元帅 (英语四级单词)
- counterfeit [´kauntəfit] a.伪造的 v.&n.伪造 (英语四级单词)
- heifer [´hefə] n.小母牛 (英语四级单词)
- livery [´livəri] a.有肝病征象的 (英语四级单词)
- indignant [in´dignənt] a.义愤的，愤慨的 (英语四级单词)
- exclamation [,eksklə´meiʃən] n.喊(惊)叫；感叹词 (英语四级单词)
- alternately [ɔ:l´tə:nitli] ad.交替地，轮流地 (英语四级单词)
- grassy [´grɑ:si] a.多草的；青草味的 (英语四级单词)
- superfluous [su:´pə:fluəs, sju:-] a.过剩的，多余的 (英语四级单词)
- patter [´pætə] n.行话 v.喋喋不休 (英语四级单词)
- splinter [´splintə] n.碎片 v.成碎片；分裂 (英语四级单词)
- holding [´həuldiŋ] n.保持，固定，存储 (英语六级单词)
- flounder [´flaundə] vi.&n.挣扎；踌躇 (英语六级单词)
- prosecution [,prɔsi´kju:ʃən] n.彻底实行；检举 (英语六级单词)
- swarthy [´swɔ:ði] a.黑皮肤的，黝黑的 (英语六级单词)
- taking [´teikiŋ] a.迷人的 n.捕获物 (英语六级单词)
- cracked [krækt] a.有裂缝的；碎的；粗哑 (英语六级单词)
- ruffian [´rʌfiən] n.流氓 a.残暴的 (英语六级单词)
文章标签:名著
章节正文
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