章节正文
over. But Gentleman Tim, who had unslung his rope, aimin' to
help the hosses out of the chuckhole, snatched her off the horn,
and with one of the prettiest twenty-foot flip throws I ever see
done he snaked old Texas Pete right out of his wicky-up, gun and
all. The old renegade did his best to twist around for a shot at
us; but it was no go; and I never enjoyed hog-tying a critter
more in my life than I enjoyed hog-tying Texas Pete. Then we
turned to see what damage had been done.
We were some relieved to find the family all right, but Texas
Pete had bored one of them poor old crow-bait hosses plumb
through the head.
"It's lucky for you you don't get the old man," says Gentleman
Tim very quiet and polite.
Which Gentleman Tim was an Irishman, and I'd been on the range
long enough with him to know that when he got quiet and polite it
was time to dodge behind something.
"I hope, sir" says he to the stranger, "that you will give your
wife and baby a satisfying drink. As for your hoss, pray do not
be under any apprehension. Our friend, Mr. Texas Pete, here, has
kindly consented to make good any deficiencies from his own
corral."
Tim could talk high, wide, and handsome when he set out to.
The man started to say something; but I managed to herd him to
one side.
"Let him alone," I whispers. "When he talks that way, he's mad;
and when he's mad, it's better to leave nature to supply the
lightnin' rods."
He seemed to sabe all right, so we built us a little fire and
started some grub, while Gentleman Tim walked up and down very
grand and fierce.
By and by he seemed to make up his mind. He went over and untied
Texas Pete.
"Stand up, you hound," says he. "Now listen to me. If you make
a break to get away, or if you refuse to do just as I tell you, I
won't shoot you, but I'll march you up country and see that
Geronimo gets you."
He sorted out a shovel and pick, made Texas Pete carry them right
along the trail a quarter, and started him to diggin' a hole.
Texas Pete started in hard enough, Tim sittin' over him on his
hoss, his six-shooter loose, and his rope free. The man and I
stood by, not darin' to say a word. After a minute or so Texas
Pete began to work slower and slower. By and by he stopped.
"Look here," says he, "is this here thing my grave?"
"I am goin' to see that you give the gentleman's hoss decent
interment," says Gentleman Tim very polite.
"Bury a hoss!" growls Texas Pete.
But he didn't say any more. Tim cocked his six-shooter.
"Perhaps you'd better quit panting and sweat a little," says he.
Texas Pete worked hard for a while, for Tim's quietness was
beginning to scare him up the worst way. By and by he had got
down maybe four or five feet, and Tim got off his hoss.
"I think that will do," says he.
"You may come out. Billy, my son, cover him. Now, Mr. Texas
Pete," he says, cold as steel, "there is the grave. We will
place the hoss in it. Then I intend to shoot you and put you in
with the hoss, and write you an epitaph that will be a comfort to
such travellers of the Trail as are honest, and a warnin' to
such as are not. I'd as soon kill you now as an hour from now,
so you may make a break for it if you feel like it."
He stooped over to look into the hole. I thought he looked an
extra long time, but when he raised his head his face had changed
complete.
"March!" says he very brisk.
We all went back to the shack. From the corral Tim took Texas
Pete's best team and hitched her to the old schooner.
"There," says he to the man. "Now you'd better hit the trail.
Take that whisky keg there for water. Good-bye."
We sat there without sayin' a word for some time after the
schooner had pulled out. Then Tim says, very abrupt:
"I've changed my mind."
He got up.
"Come on, Billy," says he to me. "We'll just leave our friend
tied up. I'll be back to-morrow to turn you loose. In the
meantime it won't hurt you a bit to be a little uncomfortable,
and hungry--and thirsty."
We rode off just about sundown, leavin' Texas Pete lashed tight.
Now all this knocked me hell-west and crooked, and I said so, but
I couldn't get a word out of Gentleman Tim. All the answer I
could get was just little laughs.
We drawed into the ranch near midnight, but next mornin' Tim had
a long talk with the boss, and the result was that the whole
outfit was instructed to arm up with a pick or a shovelapiece,
and to get set for Texas Pete's. We got there a little after
noon, turned the old boy out--without firearms--and then began to
dig at a place Tim told us to, near that grave of Texas Pete's.
In three hours we had the finest water-hole developed you ever
want to see. Then the boss stuck up a sign that said:
PUBLIC WATER-HOLE. WATER, FREE.
"Now you old skin," says he to Texas Pete, "charge all you want
to on your own property. But if I ever hear of your layin' claim
to this other hole, I'll shore make you hard to catch."
Then we rode off home. You see, when Gentleman Tim inspected
that grave, he noted indications of water; and it struck him that
runnin' the old renegade out of business was a neater way of
gettin' even than merely killin' him.
Somebody threw a fresh mesquite on the fire. The flames leaped
up again, showing a thin trickle of water running down the other
side of the cave. The steady downpour again made itself
prominent through the re-established silence.
"What did Texas Pete do after that?" asked the Cattleman.
"Texas Pete?" chuckled Windy Bill. "Well, he put in a heap of
his spare time lettin' Tim alone."
CHAPTER THREE
THE REMITTANCE MAN
After Windy Bill had finished his story we began to think it time
to turn in. Uncle Jim and Charley slid and slipped down the
chute-like passage leading from the cave and disappeared in the
direction of the overhang beneath which they had spread their
bed. After a moment we tore off long bundles of the nigger-head
blades, lit the resinous ends at our fire, and with these torches
started to make our way along the base of the cliff to the other
cave.
Once without the influence of the fire our impromptu links cast
an adequate light. The sheets of rain became suddenly visible as
they entered the circle of illumination. By careful scrutiny of
the footing I gained the entrance to our cave without mishap. I
looked back. Here and there irregularly gleamed and spluttered
my companions' torches. Across each slanted the rain. All else
was of inky blackness except where, between them and me, a faint
red reflection shone on the wet rocks. Then I turned inside.
Now, to judge from the crumbling powder of the footing, that
cave had been dry since Noah. In fact, its roof was nearly a
thousand feet thick. But since we had spread our blankets, the
persistent waters had soaked down and through. The thousand-foot
roof had a sprung a leak. Three separate and distinct streams of
water ran as from spigots. I lowered my torch. The canvas
tarpaulin shone with wet, and in its exact centre glimmered a
pool of water three inches deep and at least two feet in
diameter.
"Well, I'll be," I began. Then I remembered those three wending
their way along a wet and disagreeable trail, happy and peaceful
in anticipation of warm blankets and a level floor. I chuckled
and sat on my heels out of the drip.
First came Jed Parker, his head bent to protect the fire in his
pipe. He gained the very centre of the cave before he looked up.
Then he cast one glance at each bed, and one at me. His grave,
hawk-like features relaxed. A faint grin appeared under his long
moustache. Without a word he squatted down beside me.
Next the Cattleman. He looked about him with a comical
expression of dismay, and burst into a hearty laugh.
"I believe I said I was sorry for those other fellows," he
remarked.
Windy Bill was the last. He stooped his head to enter,
straightened his lank figure, and took in the situation without
expression.
"Well, this is handy," said he; "I was gettin' tur'ble dry, and
was thinkin' I would have to climb way down to the creek in all
this rain."
He stooped to the pool in the centre of the tarpaulin and drank.
But now our torches began to run low. A small dry bush grew near
the entrance. We ignited it, and while it blazed we hastily
sorted a blanket apiece and tumbled the rest out of the drip.
Our return without torches along the base of that butte was
something to remember. The night was so thick you could feel the
darkness pressing on you; the mountain dropped abruptly to the
left, and was strewn with boulders and blocks of stone.
Collisions and stumbles were frequent. Once I stepped off a
little ledge five or six feet--nothing worse than a barked shin.
And all the while the rain, pelting us unmercifully, searched out
what poor little remnants of dryness we had been able to retain.
At last we opened out the gleam of fire in our cave, and a
minute later were engaged in struggling desperately up the slant
that brought us to our ledge and the slope on which our fire
burned.
"My Lord!" panted Windy Bill, "a man had ought to have hooks on
his eyebrows to climb up here!"
We renewed the fire--and blessed the back-load of mesquite we had
packed up earlier in the evening. Our blankets we wrapped around
our shoulders, our feet we hung over the ledge toward the blaze,
our backs we leaned against the hollow slant of the cave's
wall. We were not uncomfortable. The beat of the rain sprang up
in the darkness, growing louder and louder, like horsemen passing
on a hard road. Gradually we dozed off.
For a time everything was pleasant. Dreams came fused with
realities; the firelight faded from consciousness or returned
fantastic to our half-awakening" target="_blank" title="n.&a.觉醒(中的)">awakening; a deliciousnumbness overspread
our tired bodies. The shadows leaped, became solid, monstrous.
We fell asleep.
After a time the fact obtruded itself dimly through our stupor
that the constantpressure of the hard rock had impeded our
circulation. We stirred uneasily, shifting to a better position.
That was the beginning of awakening" target="_blank" title="n.&a.觉醒(中的)">awakening. The new position did not
suit. A slight shivering seized us, which the drawing closer of
the blanket failed to end. Finally I threw aside my hat and
looked out. Jed Parker, a vivid patch-work comforter wrapped
about his shoulders, stood upright and silent by the fire. I
kept still, fearing to awaken the others. In a short time I
became aware that the others were doing identically the same
thing. We laughed, threw off our blankets, stretched, and fed
the fire.
A thick acrid smoke filled the air. The Cattleman, rising, left
a trail of incandescent footprints. We investigated hastily, and
discovered that the supposed earth on the slant of the cave was
nothing more than bat guano, tons of it. The fire, eating its
way beneath, had rendered untenable its immediate vicinity. We
felt as though we were living over a volcano. How soon our
ledge, of the same material, might be attacked, we had no means
of knowing. Overcome with drowsiness, we again disposed our
blankets, resolved to get as many naps as possible before even
these constrained quarters were taken from us.
This happened sooner and in a manner otherwise than we had
help the hosses out of the chuckhole, snatched her off the horn,
and with one of the prettiest twenty-foot flip throws I ever see
done he snaked old Texas Pete right out of his wicky-up, gun and
all. The old renegade did his best to twist around for a shot at
us; but it was no go; and I never enjoyed hog-tying a critter
more in my life than I enjoyed hog-tying Texas Pete. Then we
turned to see what damage had been done.
We were some relieved to find the family all right, but Texas
Pete had bored one of them poor old crow-bait hosses plumb
through the head.
"It's lucky for you you don't get the old man," says Gentleman
Tim very quiet and polite.
Which Gentleman Tim was an Irishman, and I'd been on the range
long enough with him to know that when he got quiet and polite it
was time to dodge behind something.
"I hope, sir" says he to the stranger, "that you will give your
wife and baby a satisfying drink. As for your hoss, pray do not
be under any apprehension. Our friend, Mr. Texas Pete, here, has
kindly consented to make good any deficiencies from his own
corral."
Tim could talk high, wide, and handsome when he set out to.
The man started to say something; but I managed to herd him to
one side.
"Let him alone," I whispers. "When he talks that way, he's mad;
and when he's mad, it's better to leave nature to supply the
lightnin' rods."
He seemed to sabe all right, so we built us a little fire and
started some grub, while Gentleman Tim walked up and down very
grand and fierce.
By and by he seemed to make up his mind. He went over and untied
Texas Pete.
"Stand up, you hound," says he. "Now listen to me. If you make
a break to get away, or if you refuse to do just as I tell you, I
won't shoot you, but I'll march you up country and see that
Geronimo gets you."
He sorted out a shovel and pick, made Texas Pete carry them right
along the trail a quarter, and started him to diggin' a hole.
Texas Pete started in hard enough, Tim sittin' over him on his
hoss, his six-shooter loose, and his rope free. The man and I
stood by, not darin' to say a word. After a minute or so Texas
Pete began to work slower and slower. By and by he stopped.
"Look here," says he, "is this here thing my grave?"
"I am goin' to see that you give the gentleman's hoss decent
interment," says Gentleman Tim very polite.
"Bury a hoss!" growls Texas Pete.
But he didn't say any more. Tim cocked his six-shooter.
"Perhaps you'd better quit panting and sweat a little," says he.
Texas Pete worked hard for a while, for Tim's quietness was
beginning to scare him up the worst way. By and by he had got
down maybe four or five feet, and Tim got off his hoss.
"I think that will do," says he.
"You may come out. Billy, my son, cover him. Now, Mr. Texas
Pete," he says, cold as steel, "there is the grave. We will
place the hoss in it. Then I intend to shoot you and put you in
with the hoss, and write you an epitaph that will be a comfort to
such travellers of the Trail as are honest, and a warnin' to
such as are not. I'd as soon kill you now as an hour from now,
so you may make a break for it if you feel like it."
He stooped over to look into the hole. I thought he looked an
extra long time, but when he raised his head his face had changed
complete.
"March!" says he very brisk.
We all went back to the shack. From the corral Tim took Texas
Pete's best team and hitched her to the old schooner.
"There," says he to the man. "Now you'd better hit the trail.
Take that whisky keg there for water. Good-bye."
We sat there without sayin' a word for some time after the
schooner had pulled out. Then Tim says, very abrupt:
"I've changed my mind."
He got up.
"Come on, Billy," says he to me. "We'll just leave our friend
tied up. I'll be back to-morrow to turn you loose. In the
meantime it won't hurt you a bit to be a little uncomfortable,
and hungry--and thirsty."
We rode off just about sundown, leavin' Texas Pete lashed tight.
Now all this knocked me hell-west and crooked, and I said so, but
I couldn't get a word out of Gentleman Tim. All the answer I
could get was just little laughs.
We drawed into the ranch near midnight, but next mornin' Tim had
a long talk with the boss, and the result was that the whole
outfit was instructed to arm up with a pick or a shovelapiece,
and to get set for Texas Pete's. We got there a little after
noon, turned the old boy out--without firearms--and then began to
dig at a place Tim told us to, near that grave of Texas Pete's.
In three hours we had the finest water-hole developed you ever
want to see. Then the boss stuck up a sign that said:
PUBLIC WATER-HOLE. WATER, FREE.
"Now you old skin," says he to Texas Pete, "charge all you want
to on your own property. But if I ever hear of your layin' claim
to this other hole, I'll shore make you hard to catch."
Then we rode off home. You see, when Gentleman Tim inspected
that grave, he noted indications of water; and it struck him that
runnin' the old renegade out of business was a neater way of
gettin' even than merely killin' him.
Somebody threw a fresh mesquite on the fire. The flames leaped
up again, showing a thin trickle of water running down the other
side of the cave. The steady downpour again made itself
prominent through the re-established silence.
"What did Texas Pete do after that?" asked the Cattleman.
"Texas Pete?" chuckled Windy Bill. "Well, he put in a heap of
his spare time lettin' Tim alone."
CHAPTER THREE
THE REMITTANCE MAN
After Windy Bill had finished his story we began to think it time
to turn in. Uncle Jim and Charley slid and slipped down the
chute-like passage leading from the cave and disappeared in the
direction of the overhang beneath which they had spread their
bed. After a moment we tore off long bundles of the nigger-head
blades, lit the resinous ends at our fire, and with these torches
started to make our way along the base of the cliff to the other
cave.
Once without the influence of the fire our impromptu links cast
an adequate light. The sheets of rain became suddenly visible as
they entered the circle of illumination. By careful scrutiny of
the footing I gained the entrance to our cave without mishap. I
looked back. Here and there irregularly gleamed and spluttered
my companions' torches. Across each slanted the rain. All else
was of inky blackness except where, between them and me, a faint
red reflection shone on the wet rocks. Then I turned inside.
Now, to judge from the crumbling powder of the footing, that
cave had been dry since Noah. In fact, its roof was nearly a
thousand feet thick. But since we had spread our blankets, the
persistent waters had soaked down and through. The thousand-foot
roof had a sprung a leak. Three separate and distinct streams of
water ran as from spigots. I lowered my torch. The canvas
tarpaulin shone with wet, and in its exact centre glimmered a
pool of water three inches deep and at least two feet in
diameter.
"Well, I'll be," I began. Then I remembered those three wending
their way along a wet and disagreeable trail, happy and peaceful
in anticipation of warm blankets and a level floor. I chuckled
and sat on my heels out of the drip.
First came Jed Parker, his head bent to protect the fire in his
pipe. He gained the very centre of the cave before he looked up.
Then he cast one glance at each bed, and one at me. His grave,
hawk-like features relaxed. A faint grin appeared under his long
moustache. Without a word he squatted down beside me.
Next the Cattleman. He looked about him with a comical
expression of dismay, and burst into a hearty laugh.
"I believe I said I was sorry for those other fellows," he
remarked.
Windy Bill was the last. He stooped his head to enter,
straightened his lank figure, and took in the situation without
expression.
"Well, this is handy," said he; "I was gettin' tur'ble dry, and
was thinkin' I would have to climb way down to the creek in all
this rain."
He stooped to the pool in the centre of the tarpaulin and drank.
But now our torches began to run low. A small dry bush grew near
the entrance. We ignited it, and while it blazed we hastily
sorted a blanket apiece and tumbled the rest out of the drip.
Our return without torches along the base of that butte was
something to remember. The night was so thick you could feel the
darkness pressing on you; the mountain dropped abruptly to the
left, and was strewn with boulders and blocks of stone.
Collisions and stumbles were frequent. Once I stepped off a
little ledge five or six feet--nothing worse than a barked shin.
And all the while the rain, pelting us unmercifully, searched out
what poor little remnants of dryness we had been able to retain.
At last we opened out the gleam of fire in our cave, and a
minute later were engaged in struggling desperately up the slant
that brought us to our ledge and the slope on which our fire
burned.
"My Lord!" panted Windy Bill, "a man had ought to have hooks on
his eyebrows to climb up here!"
We renewed the fire--and blessed the back-load of mesquite we had
packed up earlier in the evening. Our blankets we wrapped around
our shoulders, our feet we hung over the ledge toward the blaze,
our backs we leaned against the hollow slant of the cave's
wall. We were not uncomfortable. The beat of the rain sprang up
in the darkness, growing louder and louder, like horsemen passing
on a hard road. Gradually we dozed off.
For a time everything was pleasant. Dreams came fused with
realities; the firelight faded from consciousness or returned
fantastic to our half-awakening" target="_blank" title="n.&a.觉醒(中的)">awakening; a deliciousnumbness overspread
our tired bodies. The shadows leaped, became solid, monstrous.
We fell asleep.
After a time the fact obtruded itself dimly through our stupor
that the constantpressure of the hard rock had impeded our
circulation. We stirred uneasily, shifting to a better position.
That was the beginning of awakening" target="_blank" title="n.&a.觉醒(中的)">awakening. The new position did not
suit. A slight shivering seized us, which the drawing closer of
the blanket failed to end. Finally I threw aside my hat and
looked out. Jed Parker, a vivid patch-work comforter wrapped
about his shoulders, stood upright and silent by the fire. I
kept still, fearing to awaken the others. In a short time I
became aware that the others were doing identically the same
thing. We laughed, threw off our blankets, stretched, and fed
the fire.
A thick acrid smoke filled the air. The Cattleman, rising, left
a trail of incandescent footprints. We investigated hastily, and
discovered that the supposed earth on the slant of the cave was
nothing more than bat guano, tons of it. The fire, eating its
way beneath, had rendered untenable its immediate vicinity. We
felt as though we were living over a volcano. How soon our
ledge, of the same material, might be attacked, we had no means
of knowing. Overcome with drowsiness, we again disposed our
blankets, resolved to get as many naps as possible before even
these constrained quarters were taken from us.
This happened sooner and in a manner otherwise than we had
- polite [pə´lait]
a.有礼貌的；温和的 (初中英语单词) - midnight [´midnait] n.午夜；漆黑 (初中英语单词)
- running [´rʌniŋ] a.奔跑的；流动的 (初中英语单词)
- adequate [´ædikwit] a.足够的；适当的 (初中英语单词)
- visible [´vizəbəl] a.可见的；明显的 (初中英语单词)
- circle [´sə:kəl] n.圆圈 v.环绕；盘旋 (初中英语单词)
- reflection [ri´flekʃən] n.反射；映象；想法 (初中英语单词)
- distinct [di´stiŋkt] a.清楚的；独特的 (初中英语单词)
- dismay [dis´mei] n.惊慌 vt.使惊慌 (初中英语单词)
- abruptly [ə´brʌptli] ad.突然地；粗鲁地 (初中英语单词)
- frequent [´fri:kwənt] a.常见的，频繁的 (初中英语单词)
- sprang [spræŋ] spring 的过去式 (初中英语单词)
- delicious [di´liʃəs] a.美味的，可口的 (初中英语单词)
- constant [´kɔnstənt] a.坚定的；坚贞的 (初中英语单词)
- pressure [´preʃə] n.压榨 vt.对...施压力 (初中英语单词)
- beginning [bi´giniŋ] n.开始，开端；起源 (初中英语单词)
- awaken [ə´weikən] v.唤起，叫醒 (初中英语单词)
- hastily [´heistili] ad.急速地；草率地 (初中英语单词)
- supposed [sə´pəuzd] a.想象的；假定的 (初中英语单词)
- knowing [´nəuiŋ] a.会意的，心照不宣的 (初中英语单词)
- overcome [,əuvə´kʌm] vt.战胜，克服 (初中英语单词)
- otherwise [´ʌðəwaiz] ad.另外 conj.否则 (初中英语单词)
- apprehension [,æpri´henʃən] n.理解；忧虑；逮捕 (高中英语单词)
- shovel [´ʃʌvəl] n.铲子；铁锹 (高中英语单词)
- crooked [´krukid] a.弯曲的；畸形的 (高中英语单词)
- sprung [sprʌŋ] spring的过去分词 (高中英语单词)
- disagreeable [,disə´gri:əbl] a.令人不悦的 (高中英语单词)
- hearty [´hɑ:ti] a.热忱的；强健的 (高中英语单词)
- strewn [stru:n] strew的过去分词 (高中英语单词)
- desperately [´despəritli] ad.绝望地；拼命地 (高中英语单词)
- uncomfortable [ʌn´kʌmftəbəl] a.不舒服的，不自在的 (高中英语单词)
- consciousness [´kɔnʃəsnis] n.意识；觉悟；知觉 (高中英语单词)
- upright [´ʌprait] a.直立的 ad.直立地 (高中英语单词)
- volcano [vɔl´keinəu] n.火山 (高中英语单词)
- trickle [´trikəl] v.滴下 n.点滴；细流 (英语四级单词)
- blackness [´blæknis] n.黑色；阴险 (英语四级单词)
- anticipation [æn,tisi´peiʃən] n.预期；预料；期望 (英语四级单词)
- apiece [ə´pi:s] ad.每个，每件，每人 (英语四级单词)
- blessed [´blesid] a.享福的；神圣的 (英语四级单词)
- drawing [´drɔ:iŋ] n.画图；制图；图样 (英语四级单词)
- comforter [´kʌmfətə] n.慰问者；毛围巾；圣灵 (英语四级单词)
- vicinity [vi´siniti] n.邻近，附近，接近 (英语四级单词)
- resolved [ri´zɔlvd] a.决心的；坚定的 (英语四级单词)
- irishman [´aiəriʃmən] n.爱尔兰人 (英语六级单词)
- epitaph [´epitɑ:f] n.墓志铭 (英语六级单词)
- sundown [´sʌndaun] n.日落 (英语六级单词)
- overhang [,əuvə´hæŋ] vt.悬于...之上；逼近 (英语六级单词)
- illumination [i,lju:mi´neiʃən] n.照明；阐明 (英语六级单词)
- footing [´futiŋ] n.立脚点；基础；地位 (英语六级单词)
- mishap [´mishæp] n.不幸；灾祸 (英语六级单词)
- numbness [´nʌmnis] n.麻木；愚蠢 (英语六级单词)
- uneasily [ʌn´i:zili] ad.不安地；局促地 (英语六级单词)
- awakening [ə´weikəniŋ] n.&a.觉醒(中的) (英语六级单词)
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