章节正文
Yet she had no desire, no slightest impulse to get up
and see who was there. She was careful not to move,
except to cover the doorway to the kitchen with her
gun.
After a few minutes the man came and tried the
door, and Jean lifted herself cautiously upon her elbow
and waited in grim desperation. If he forced that
door open, if he came in, she certainly would shoot;
and if she shot,--well, you remember the fate of that
hawk on the wing.
The man did not force the door open, which was
perhaps the luckiest thing that ever happened to him. He fussed
there until he must have made sure that it was fastened firmly
upon the inside, and then he left it and went into what had been
the living-room. Jean did not move from her half-sitting
position, nor did she change the aim of her gun. He might come
back and try again.
She heard him moving about in the living-room.
Surely he did not expect to find money in an empty
house, or anything else of any commercial value. What
was he after? Finally he came back to the kitchen,
crossed it, and stood before the barred door. He
pushed against it tentatively, then stood still for a
minute and finally went out. Jean heard him step
upon the porch and pull the kitchen door shut behind
him. She knew that squeal of the bottom hinge, and
she knew the final gasp and click that proved the latch
was fastened. She heard him step off the porch to the
path, she heard the soft crunch of his feet in the sandy
gravel as he went away toward the stable. Very cautiously
she got off the couch and crept to the window;
and with her gun gripped tight in her hand, she looked
out. But he had moved into a deep shadow of the bluff,
and she could see nothing of him save the deeper shadow
of his swift-moving body as he went down to the corral.
Jean gave a long sigh of nervous relaxation, and crept
shivering under the Navajo blanket. The gun she slid
under the pillow, and her fingers rested still upon the
cool comfort of the butt.
Soon she heard a horse galloping, and she went to the
window again and looked out. The moon hung low
over the bluff, so that the trail lay mostly in the shadow.
But down by the gate it swung out in a wide curve to
the rocky knoll, and there it lay moon-lighted and
empty. She fixed her eyes upon that curve and
waited. In a moment the horseman galloped out upon
the curve, rounded it, and disappeared in the shadows
beyond. At that distance and in that deceptive light,
she could not tell who it was; but it was a horseman, a
man riding at night in haste, and with some purpose in
mind.
Jean had thought that the prowler might be some
tramp who had wandered far off the beaten path of
migratory humans, and who, stumbling upon the coulee
and its empty dwellings, was searching at random for
whatever might be worth carrying off. A horseman
did not fit that theory anywhere. That particular
horseman had come there deliberately" target="_blank" title="ad.故意地；慎重地">deliberately, had given the
house a deliberate search, and had left in haste when
he had finished. Whether he had failed or succeeded
in finding what he wanted, he had left. He had not
searched the stables, unless he had done that before
coming into the house. He had not forced his way
into her room, probably because he did not want to leave
behind him the evidence of his visit which the door
would have given, or because he feared to disturb the
contents of Jean's room.
Jean stared up in the dark and puzzled long over the
identity of that man, and his errand. And the longer
she thought about it, the more completely she was at
sea. All the men that she knew were aware that she
kept this room habitable, and visited the ranch often.
That was no secret; it never had been a secret. No
one save Lite Avery had ever been in it, so far as she
knew,--unless she counted those chance trespassers who
had prowled boldly through her most sacred belongings.
So that almost any one in the country, had he any object
in searching the house, would know that this room
was hers, and would act in that knowledge.
As to his errand. There could be no errand, so far
as she knew. There were no missing papers such as
plays and novels are accustomed to have cunningly hidden
in empty houses. There was no stolen will, no
hidden treasure, no money, no Rajah's ruby, no ransom
of a king; these things Jean named over mentally, and
chuckled at the idea of treasure-hunting at the Lazy
A. It vas very romantic, very mysterious, she told
herself. And she analyzed the sensation of little wet
alligators creeping up her spine (that was her own
simile), and decided that her book should certainly have
a ghost in it; she was sure that she could describe with
extreme vividness the effect of a ghost upon her various
characters.
In this wise she recovered her composure and laughed
at her fear, and planned new and thrilly incidents for
her novel.
She would not tell Lite anything about it, she decided.
He would try to keep her from coming over here by
herself, and that would precipitate one of those arguments
between them that never seemed to get them anywhere,
because Lite never would yield gracefully, and
Jean never would yield at all,--which does not make
for peace.
She wished, just the same, that Lite was there. It
would be much more comfortable if he were near
instead of away over to the Bar Nothing, sound asleep
in the bunk-house. As a self-appointed guardian, Jean
considered Lite something of a nuisance, when he wasn't
funny. But as a big, steady-nerved friend and comrade,
he certainly was a comfort.
CHAPTER XI
LITE'S PUPIL DEMONSTRATES
Jean awoke to hear the businesslike buzzing of an
automobile coming up from the gate. Evidently
they were going to make pictures there at the house,
which did not suit her plans at all. She intended to
spend the early morning writing the first few chapters
of that book which to her inexperience seemed a simple
task, and to leave before these people arrived. As it
was, she was fairly caught. There was no chance of
escaping unnoticed, unless she slipped out and up the
bluff afoot, and that would not have helped her in the
least, since Pard was in the stable.
From behind the curtains she watched them for a
few minutes. Robert Grant Burns wore a light overcoat,
which made him look pudgier than ever, and he
scowled a good deal over some untidy-looking papers in
his hands, and conferred with Pete Lowry in a dissatisfied
tone, though his words were indistinguishable.
Muriel Gay watched the two covertly, it seemed to Jean,
and she also looked dissatisfied over something.
Burns and the camera man walked down toward the
stables, studying the bluff and the immediate surroundings,
and still talking together. Lee Milligan, with
his paint-shaded eyes and his rouged lips and heavily
pencilled eyebrows, came up and stood close to Muriel,
who was sitting now upon the bench near Jean's window.
"Burns ought to cut out those scenes, Gay," he
began sympathetically. "You can't do any more than
you did yesterday. And believe me, you put it over in
good style. I don't see what he wants more than you
did."
"What he wants," said Muriel Gay dispiritedly, "is
for me to pull off stunts like that girl. I never saddled
a horse in my life till he ordered me to do it in the
scene yesterday. Why didn't he tell me far enough
ahead so I could rehearse the business? Latigo! It
sounds like some Spanish dish with grated cheese on
top. I don't believe he knows himself what he meant."
"He's getting nutty on Western dope," sympathized
Lee Milligan. "I don't see where this country's got
anything on Griffith Park for atmosphere, anyway.
What did he want to come away up here in this God-
forsaken country for? What is there TO it, more than
he could get within an hour's ride of Los Angeles?"
"I should worry about the country," said Muriel
despondently, "if somebody would kindly tell me what
looping up your latigo means. Burns says that he's
got to retake that saddling scene just as soon as the
horses get here. It looks just as simple," she added
spitefully, "as climbing to the top of the Berry Building
tower and doing a leap to a passing airship. In
fact, I'd choose the leap."
A warm impulse of helpfulness stirred Jean. She
caught up her hat, buckled her gun belt around her
from pure habit, tucked a few loose strands of hair
into place, and went out where they were.
"If you'll come down to the stable with me," she
drawled, while they were staring their astonishment at
her unexpected appearance before them, "I'll show you
how to saddle up. Pard's awfully patient about being
fussed with; you can practice on him. He's mean
about taking the bit, though, unless you know just how
to take hold of him. Come on."
The three of them,--Muriel Gay and her mother
and Lee Milligan,--stared at Jean without speaking.
To her it seemed perfectly natural that she should walk
up and offer to help the girl; to them it seemed not so
natural. For a minute the product of the cities and
the product of the open country studied each other curiously.
"Come on," urged Jean in her lazily friendly drawl.
"It's simple enough, once you get the hang of it."
And she smiled before she added, "A latigo is just the
strap that fastens the cinch. I'll show you."
"I'll bet Bobby Burns doesn't know that," said
Muriel Gay, and got up from the bench. "It's
awfully good of you; Mr. Burns is so--"
"I noticed that," said Jean, while Muriel was
waiting for a word that would relieve her feelings without
being too blunt.
Burns and Pete Lowry and the assistant had gone
down the coulee, still studying the bluff closely. "I've
got to ride down that bluff," Muriel informed Jean, her
eyes following her directorgloomily. "He asked me
last night if I could throw a rope. I don't know what
for; it's an extra punch he wants to put in this picture
somewhere. I wish to goodness they wouldn't let him
write his own scenarios; he just lies awake nights,
lately, thinking up impossible scenes so he can bully us
afterwards. He's simply gone nutty on the subject of
punches."
and see who was there. She was careful not to move,
except to cover the doorway to the kitchen with her
gun.
After a few minutes the man came and tried the
door, and Jean lifted herself cautiously upon her elbow
and waited in grim desperation. If he forced that
door open, if he came in, she certainly would shoot;
and if she shot,--well, you remember the fate of that
hawk on the wing.
The man did not force the door open, which was
perhaps the luckiest thing that ever happened to him. He fussed
there until he must have made sure that it was fastened firmly
upon the inside, and then he left it and went into what had been
the living-room. Jean did not move from her half-sitting
position, nor did she change the aim of her gun. He might come
back and try again.
She heard him moving about in the living-room.
Surely he did not expect to find money in an empty
house, or anything else of any commercial value. What
was he after? Finally he came back to the kitchen,
crossed it, and stood before the barred door. He
pushed against it tentatively, then stood still for a
minute and finally went out. Jean heard him step
upon the porch and pull the kitchen door shut behind
him. She knew that squeal of the bottom hinge, and
she knew the final gasp and click that proved the latch
was fastened. She heard him step off the porch to the
path, she heard the soft crunch of his feet in the sandy
gravel as he went away toward the stable. Very cautiously
she got off the couch and crept to the window;
and with her gun gripped tight in her hand, she looked
out. But he had moved into a deep shadow of the bluff,
and she could see nothing of him save the deeper shadow
of his swift-moving body as he went down to the corral.
Jean gave a long sigh of nervous relaxation, and crept
shivering under the Navajo blanket. The gun she slid
under the pillow, and her fingers rested still upon the
cool comfort of the butt.
Soon she heard a horse galloping, and she went to the
window again and looked out. The moon hung low
over the bluff, so that the trail lay mostly in the shadow.
But down by the gate it swung out in a wide curve to
the rocky knoll, and there it lay moon-lighted and
empty. She fixed her eyes upon that curve and
waited. In a moment the horseman galloped out upon
the curve, rounded it, and disappeared in the shadows
beyond. At that distance and in that deceptive light,
she could not tell who it was; but it was a horseman, a
man riding at night in haste, and with some purpose in
mind.
Jean had thought that the prowler might be some
tramp who had wandered far off the beaten path of
migratory humans, and who, stumbling upon the coulee
and its empty dwellings, was searching at random for
whatever might be worth carrying off. A horseman
did not fit that theory anywhere. That particular
horseman had come there deliberately" target="_blank" title="ad.故意地；慎重地">deliberately, had given the
house a deliberate search, and had left in haste when
he had finished. Whether he had failed or succeeded
in finding what he wanted, he had left. He had not
searched the stables, unless he had done that before
coming into the house. He had not forced his way
into her room, probably because he did not want to leave
behind him the evidence of his visit which the door
would have given, or because he feared to disturb the
contents of Jean's room.
Jean stared up in the dark and puzzled long over the
identity of that man, and his errand. And the longer
she thought about it, the more completely she was at
sea. All the men that she knew were aware that she
kept this room habitable, and visited the ranch often.
That was no secret; it never had been a secret. No
one save Lite Avery had ever been in it, so far as she
knew,--unless she counted those chance trespassers who
had prowled boldly through her most sacred belongings.
So that almost any one in the country, had he any object
in searching the house, would know that this room
was hers, and would act in that knowledge.
As to his errand. There could be no errand, so far
as she knew. There were no missing papers such as
plays and novels are accustomed to have cunningly hidden
in empty houses. There was no stolen will, no
hidden treasure, no money, no Rajah's ruby, no ransom
of a king; these things Jean named over mentally, and
chuckled at the idea of treasure-hunting at the Lazy
A. It vas very romantic, very mysterious, she told
herself. And she analyzed the sensation of little wet
alligators creeping up her spine (that was her own
simile), and decided that her book should certainly have
a ghost in it; she was sure that she could describe with
extreme vividness the effect of a ghost upon her various
characters.
In this wise she recovered her composure and laughed
at her fear, and planned new and thrilly incidents for
her novel.
She would not tell Lite anything about it, she decided.
He would try to keep her from coming over here by
herself, and that would precipitate one of those arguments
between them that never seemed to get them anywhere,
because Lite never would yield gracefully, and
Jean never would yield at all,--which does not make
for peace.
She wished, just the same, that Lite was there. It
would be much more comfortable if he were near
instead of away over to the Bar Nothing, sound asleep
in the bunk-house. As a self-appointed guardian, Jean
considered Lite something of a nuisance, when he wasn't
funny. But as a big, steady-nerved friend and comrade,
he certainly was a comfort.
CHAPTER XI
LITE'S PUPIL DEMONSTRATES
Jean awoke to hear the businesslike buzzing of an
automobile coming up from the gate. Evidently
they were going to make pictures there at the house,
which did not suit her plans at all. She intended to
spend the early morning writing the first few chapters
of that book which to her inexperience seemed a simple
task, and to leave before these people arrived. As it
was, she was fairly caught. There was no chance of
escaping unnoticed, unless she slipped out and up the
bluff afoot, and that would not have helped her in the
least, since Pard was in the stable.
From behind the curtains she watched them for a
few minutes. Robert Grant Burns wore a light overcoat,
which made him look pudgier than ever, and he
scowled a good deal over some untidy-looking papers in
his hands, and conferred with Pete Lowry in a dissatisfied
tone, though his words were indistinguishable.
Muriel Gay watched the two covertly, it seemed to Jean,
and she also looked dissatisfied over something.
Burns and the camera man walked down toward the
stables, studying the bluff and the immediate surroundings,
and still talking together. Lee Milligan, with
his paint-shaded eyes and his rouged lips and heavily
pencilled eyebrows, came up and stood close to Muriel,
who was sitting now upon the bench near Jean's window.
"Burns ought to cut out those scenes, Gay," he
began sympathetically. "You can't do any more than
you did yesterday. And believe me, you put it over in
good style. I don't see what he wants more than you
did."
"What he wants," said Muriel Gay dispiritedly, "is
for me to pull off stunts like that girl. I never saddled
a horse in my life till he ordered me to do it in the
scene yesterday. Why didn't he tell me far enough
ahead so I could rehearse the business? Latigo! It
sounds like some Spanish dish with grated cheese on
top. I don't believe he knows himself what he meant."
"He's getting nutty on Western dope," sympathized
Lee Milligan. "I don't see where this country's got
anything on Griffith Park for atmosphere, anyway.
What did he want to come away up here in this God-
forsaken country for? What is there TO it, more than
he could get within an hour's ride of Los Angeles?"
"I should worry about the country," said Muriel
despondently, "if somebody would kindly tell me what
looping up your latigo means. Burns says that he's
got to retake that saddling scene just as soon as the
horses get here. It looks just as simple," she added
spitefully, "as climbing to the top of the Berry Building
tower and doing a leap to a passing airship. In
fact, I'd choose the leap."
A warm impulse of helpfulness stirred Jean. She
caught up her hat, buckled her gun belt around her
from pure habit, tucked a few loose strands of hair
into place, and went out where they were.
"If you'll come down to the stable with me," she
drawled, while they were staring their astonishment at
her unexpected appearance before them, "I'll show you
how to saddle up. Pard's awfully patient about being
fussed with; you can practice on him. He's mean
about taking the bit, though, unless you know just how
to take hold of him. Come on."
The three of them,--Muriel Gay and her mother
and Lee Milligan,--stared at Jean without speaking.
To her it seemed perfectly natural that she should walk
up and offer to help the girl; to them it seemed not so
natural. For a minute the product of the cities and
the product of the open country studied each other curiously.
"Come on," urged Jean in her lazily friendly drawl.
"It's simple enough, once you get the hang of it."
And she smiled before she added, "A latigo is just the
strap that fastens the cinch. I'll show you."
"I'll bet Bobby Burns doesn't know that," said
Muriel Gay, and got up from the bench. "It's
awfully good of you; Mr. Burns is so--"
"I noticed that," said Jean, while Muriel was
waiting for a word that would relieve her feelings without
being too blunt.
Burns and Pete Lowry and the assistant had gone
down the coulee, still studying the bluff closely. "I've
got to ride down that bluff," Muriel informed Jean, her
eyes following her directorgloomily. "He asked me
last night if I could throw a rope. I don't know what
for; it's an extra punch he wants to put in this picture
somewhere. I wish to goodness they wouldn't let him
write his own scenarios; he just lies awake nights,
lately, thinking up impossible scenes so he can bully us
afterwards. He's simply gone nutty on the subject of
punches."
- impulse [´impʌls]
n.推动(力)；冲动；刺激 (初中英语单词) - doorway [´dɔ:wei] n.门口 (初中英语单词)
- commercial [kə´mə:ʃəl] a.商业的 n.广告节目 (初中英语单词)
- stable [´steibəl] n.马棚 a.稳固的 (初中英语单词)
- nervous [´nə:vəs] a.神经的；神经过敏的 (初中英语单词)
- mostly [´məustli] ad.主要地；多半；通常 (初中英语单词)
- beaten [´bi:tn] beat 的过去分词 (初中英语单词)
- anywhere [´eniweə] ad.无论何处；任何地方 (初中英语单词)
- disturb [di´stə:b] vt.扰乱；使不安；打乱 (初中英语单词)
- errand [´erənd] n.差使，使命 (初中英语单词)
- sacred [´seikrid] a.神圣的；庄严的 (初中英语单词)
- missing [´misiŋ] a.缺掉的；失踪的 (初中英语单词)
- stolen [´stəulən] steal 的过去分词 (初中英语单词)
- romantic [rəu´mæntik] a.传奇(式)的；浪漫的 (初中英语单词)
- mysterious [mi´stiəriəs] a.神秘的；难以理解的 (初中英语单词)
- sensation [sen´seiʃən] n.感觉；轰动；轰动一时 (初中英语单词)
- writing [´raitiŋ] n.书写；写作；书法 (初中英语单词)
- yesterday [´jestədi] n.&ad.昨天；前不久 (初中英语单词)
- cheese [tʃi:z] n.干酪，乳酪 (初中英语单词)
- western [´westən] a.西的；西方的 (初中英语单词)
- atmosphere [´ætməsfiə] n.大气；空气；气氛 (初中英语单词)
- astonishment [ə´stɔniʃmənt] n.吃惊；惊异 (初中英语单词)
- saddle [´sædl] n.鞍子 v.装鞍(于) (初中英语单词)
- relieve [ri´li:v] v.救济，援救；减轻 (初中英语单词)
- assistant [ə´sistənt] n.助手；助理；助教 (初中英语单词)
- director [di´rektə] n.指导者；....长；导演 (初中英语单词)
- goodness [´gudnis] n.优良；美德；精华 (初中英语单词)
- cautiously [´kɔ:ʃəsli] ad.小心地；谨慎地 (高中英语单词)
- horseman [´hɔ:smən] n.骑手，马术师 (高中英语单词)
- random [´rændəm] n.偶然的行动 (高中英语单词)
- deliberately [di´libərətli] ad.故意地；慎重地 (高中英语单词)
- deliberate [di´libəreit] a.慎重的；故意的 (高中英语单词)
- finding [´faindiŋ] n.发现物；判断；结果 (高中英语单词)
- boldly [´bəuldli] ad.大胆地；醒目地 (高中英语单词)
- cunningly [´kʌniŋli] ad.狡猾地；精巧地 (高中英语单词)
- decided [di´saidid] a.明显的；决定的 (高中英语单词)
- guardian [´gɑ:diən] n.监护人；保护人 (高中英语单词)
- nuisance [´nju:səns] n.损害；讨厌的人(事) (高中英语单词)
- unexpected [ʌniks´pektid] a.突然的；意外的 (高中英语单词)
- awfully [´ɔ:fuli] ad.令人畏惧地 (高中英语单词)
- perfectly [´pə:fiktli] ad.理想地；完美地 (高中英语单词)
- studied [´stʌdid] a.故意的；有计划的 (高中英语单词)
- desperation [,despə´reiʃən] n.铤而走险，拼命 (英语四级单词)
- composure [kəm´pəuʒə] n.镇静，沉着 (英语四级单词)
- precipitate [pri´sipiteit] v.猛抛；a.仓促的 (英语四级单词)
- gracefully [´greisfuli] ad.优美地，斯文地 (英语四级单词)
- airship [´eə,ʃip] n.飞艇，飞船 (英语四级单词)
- squeal [skwi:l] n.&v.长而尖的叫声 (英语六级单词)
- businesslike [´biznislaik] a.有系统的，有条理的 (英语六级单词)
- dissatisfied [´dis,sætis´fækʃən] a.不满的；显出不满的 (英语六级单词)
- taking [´teikiŋ] a.迷人的 n.捕获物 (英语六级单词)
- lazily [´leizili] ad.懒惰地，慢吞吞地 (英语六级单词)
- gloomily [´glu:mili] adv.忧郁的 (英语六级单词)
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章节正文
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