章节正文
him. Jimmy straightened, stared wildly behind him, and over the
open, hazy field, where flowers bloomed, and birds called, and
the long rows of shocks stood unconscious auditors of the strange
scene. He lifted his hat, and wiped the perspiration from his
dripping face with the sleeve of his shirt, and as he raised his
arm, the corn- cutter flashed in the light.
"My God, it's awful, Dannie! It's so awful, I can't begin to tell
you!"
Dannie's face was ashen. "Jimmy, dear auld fellow," he said, "how
long has this been going on?"
"A million years," said Jimmy, shifting the corn-cutter to the
hand that held his hat, that he might moisten his fingers with
saliva and rub it across his parched lips.
"Jimmy, dear," Dannie's hand was on Jimmy's sleeve. "Have ye been
to town in the nicht, or anything like that lately?"
"No, Dannie, dear, I ain't," sneered Jimmy, setting his hat on
the back of his head and testing the corn-cutter with his thumb.
"This ain't Casey's, me lad. I've no more call there, at this
minute, than you have."
"It is Casey's, juist the same," said Dannie bitterly. "Dinna ye
know the end of this sort of thing?"
"No, bedad, I don't!" said Jimmy. "If I knew any way to ind it,
you can bet I've had enough. I'd ind it quick enough, if I knew
how. But the railroad wouldn't be the ind. That would just be the
beginnin'. Keep close to me, Dannie, and talk, for mercy sake,
talk! Do you think we could finish the corn by noon?"
"Let's try!" said Dannie, as he squared his shoulders to adjust
them to his new load. "Then we'll get in the pumpkins this
afternoon, and bury the potatoes, and the cabbage and turnips,
and then we're aboot fixed fra winter."
"We must take one day, and gather our nuts," suggested Jimmy,
struggling to make his voice sound natural, "and you forgot the
apples. We must bury thim too."
"That's so," said Dannie, "and when that's over, we'll hae
nothing left to do but catch the Bass, and say farewell to the
Kingfisher."
"I've already told you that I would relave you of all
responsibility about the Bass," said Jimmy, "and when I do, you
won't need trouble to make your adieus to the Kingfisher of the
Wabash. He'll be one bird that won't be migrating this winter."
Dannie tried to laugh. "I'd like fall as much as any season of
the year," he said, "if it wasna for winter coming next."
"I thought you liked winter, and the trampin' in the white woods,
and trappin', and the long evenings with a book."
"I do," said Dannie. "I must have been thinkin' of Mary. She
hated last winter so. Of course, I had to go home when ye were
away, and the nichts were so long, and so cold, and mony of them
alone. I wonder if we canna arrange fra one of her sister's girls
to stay with her this winter?"
"What's the matter with me?" asked Jimmy.
"Nothing, if only ye'd stay," answered Dannie.
"All I'll be out of nights, you could put in one eye," said
Jimmy. "I went last winter, and before, because whin they
clamored too loud, I could be drivin' out the divils that way,
for a while, and you always came for me, but even that won't be
stopping it now. I wouldn't stick my head out alone after dark,
not if I was dying!"
"Jimmy, ye never felt that way before," said Dannie. "Tell me
what happened this summer to start ye."
"I've done a domn sight of faleing that you didn't know anything
about," answered Jimmy. "I could work it off at Casey's for a
while, but this summer things sort of came to a head, and I saw
meself for fair, and before God, Dannie, I didn't like me looks."
"Well, then, I like your looks," said Dannie. "Ye are the best
company I ever was in. Ye are the only mon I ever knew that I
cared fra, and I care fra ye so much, I havna the way to tell ye
how much. You're possessed with a damn fool idea, Jimmy, and ye
got to shake it off. Such a great-hearted, big mon as ye! I winna
have it! There's the dinner bell, and richt glad I am of it!"
That afternoon when pumpkingathering was over and Jimmy had
invited Mary out to separate the "punk" from the pumpkins, there
was a wagon-load of good ones above what they would need for
their use. Dannie proposed to take them to town and sell them. To
his amazement Jimmy refused to go along.
"I told you this morning that Casey wasn't calling me at
prisent," he said, "and whin I am not called I'd best not answer.
I have promised Mary to top the onions and bury the cilery, and
murder the bates."
"Do what wi' the beets?" inquired the puzzled Dannie.
"Kill thim! Kill thim stone dead. I'm too tinder-hearted to be
burying anything but a dead bate, Dannie. That's a thousand years
old, but laugh, like I knew you would, old Ramphirinkus! No,
thank you, I don't go to town!"
Then Dannie was scared. "He's going to be dreadfully seek or go
mad," he said.
So he drove to the village, sold the pumpkins, filled Mary's
order for groceries, and then went to the doctor, and told him of
Jimmy's latest developments.
"It is the drink," said that worthydisciple of Esculapius. "It's
the drink! In time it makes a fool sodden and a bright man mad.
Few men have sufficient brains to go crazy. Jimmy has. He must
stop the drink."
On the street, Dannie encountered Father Michael. The priest
stopped him to shake hands.
"How's Mary Malone?" he asked.
"She is quite well noo," answered Dannie, "but she is na happy. I
live so close, and see so much, I know. I've thought of ye
lately. I have thought of coming to see ye. I'm na of your
religion, but Mary is, and what suits her is guid enough for me.
I've tried to think of everything under the sun that might help,
and among other things I've thought of ye. Jimmy was confirmed in
your church, and he was more or less regular up to his marriage."
"Less, Mr. Macnoun, much less!" said the priest. "Since, not at
all. Why do you ask?"
"He is sick," said Dannie. "He drinks a guid deal. He has been
reckless about sleeping on the ground, and noo, if ye will make
this confidential?"--the priest nodded--"he is talking aboot
sleeping on the railroad, and he's having delusions. There are
devils after him. He is the finest fellow ye ever knew, Father
Michael. We've been friends all our lives. Ye have had much
experience with men, and it ought to count fra something. From
all ye know, and what I've told ye, could his trouble be cured as
the doctor suggests?"
The priest did a queer thing. "You know him as no living man,
Dannie," he said. "What do you think?"
Dannie's big hands slowly opened and closed. Then he fell to
polishing the nails of one hand on the palm of the other. At last
he answered, "If ye'd asked me that this time last year, I'd have
said `it's the drink,' at a jump. But times this summer, this
morning, for instance, when he hadna a drop in three weeks, and
dinna want ane, when he could have come wi' me to town, and
wouldna, and there were devils calling him from the ground, and
the trees, and the sky, out in the open cornfield, it looked
bad."
The priest's eyes were boring into Dannie's sick face. "How did
it look?" he asked briefly.
"It looked," said Dannie, and his voice dropped to a whisper, "it
looked like he might carry a damned ugly secret, that it would be
better fra him if ye, at least, knew."
"And the nature of that secret?"
Dannie shook his head. "Couldna give a guess at it! Known him all
his life. My only friend. Always been togither. Square a mon as
God ever made. There's na fault in him, if he'd let drink alone.
Got more faith in him than any ane I ever knew. I wouldna trust
mon on God's footstool, if I had to lose faith in Jimmy. Come to
think of it, that `secret' business is all old woman's scare. The
drink is telling on him. If only he could be cured of that awful
weakness, all heaven would come down and settle in Rainbow
Bottom."
They shook hands and parted without Dannie realizing that he had
told all he knew and learned nothing. Then he entered the post
office for the weekly mail. He called for Malone's papers also,
and with them came a slip from the express office notifying Jimmy
that there was a package for him. Dannie went to see if they
would let him have it, and as Jimmy lived in the country, and as
he and Dannie were known to be partners, he was allowed to sign
the book, and carry away a long, slender, wooden box, with a
Boston tag. The Thread Man had sent Jimmy a present, and from the
appearance of the box, Dannie made up his mind that it was a
cane.
Straightway he drove home at a scandalous rate of speed, and on
the way, he dressed Jimmy in a broadcloth suit, patent leathers,
and a silk hat. Then he took him to a gold cure, where he learned
to abhor whiskey in a week, and then to the priest, to whom he
confessed that he had lied about the number of coons in the
Canoper. And so peace brooded in Rainbow Bottom, and all of them
were happy again. For with the passing of summer, Dannie had
learned that heretofore there had been happiness of a sort, for
them, and that if they could all get back to the old footing it
would be well, or at least far better than it was at present.
With Mary's tongue dripping gall, and her sweet face souring, and
Jimmy hearing devils, no wonder poor Dannie overheated his team
in a race to carry a package that promised to furnish some
diversion.
Jimmy and Mary heard the racket, and standing on the celery hill,
they saw Dannie come clattering up the lane, and as he saw them,
he stood in the wagon, and waved the package over his head.
Jimmy straightened with a flourish, stuck the spade in the celery
hill, and descended with great deliberation. "I mintioned to
Dannie this morning," he said "that it was about time I was
hearin' from the Thrid Man."
"Oh! Do you suppose it is something from Boston?" the eagerness
in Mary's voice made it sound almost girlish again.
"Hunt the hatchet!" hissed Jimmy, and walked very leisurely into
the cabin.
Dannie was visibly excited as he entered. "I think ye have heard
from the Thread Mon," he said, handing Jimmy the package.
Jimmy took it, and examined it carefully. He never before in his
life had an express package, the contents of which he did not
know. It behooved him to get all there was out of the pride and
the joy of it.
Mary laid down the hatchet so close that it touched Jimmy's hand,
to remind him. "Now what do you suppose he has sent you?" she
inquired eagerly, her hand straying toward the packages.
Jimmy tested the box. "It don't weigh much," he said, "but one
end of it's the heaviest."
He set the hatchet in a tiny crack, and with one rip, stripped
off the cover. Inside lay a long, brown leather case, with small
buckles, and in one end a little leather case, flat on one side,
rounding on the other, and it, too, fastened with a buckle. Jimmy
caught sight of a paper book folded in the bottom of the box, as
he lifted the case. With trembling fingers he unfastened the
buckles, the whole thing unrolled, and disclosed a case of
leather, sewn in four divisions, from top to bottom, and from the
largest of these protruded a shining object. Jimmy caught this,
and began to draw, and the shine began to lengthen.
"Just what I thought!" exclaimed Dannie. "He's sent ye a fine
cane."
"A hint to kape out of the small of his back the nixt time he
goes promenadin' on a cow-kitcher! The divil!" exploded Jimmy.
His quick eyes had caught a word on the cover of the little book
open, hazy field, where flowers bloomed, and birds called, and
the long rows of shocks stood unconscious auditors of the strange
scene. He lifted his hat, and wiped the perspiration from his
dripping face with the sleeve of his shirt, and as he raised his
arm, the corn- cutter flashed in the light.
"My God, it's awful, Dannie! It's so awful, I can't begin to tell
you!"
Dannie's face was ashen. "Jimmy, dear auld fellow," he said, "how
long has this been going on?"
"A million years," said Jimmy, shifting the corn-cutter to the
hand that held his hat, that he might moisten his fingers with
saliva and rub it across his parched lips.
"Jimmy, dear," Dannie's hand was on Jimmy's sleeve. "Have ye been
to town in the nicht, or anything like that lately?"
"No, Dannie, dear, I ain't," sneered Jimmy, setting his hat on
the back of his head and testing the corn-cutter with his thumb.
"This ain't Casey's, me lad. I've no more call there, at this
minute, than you have."
"It is Casey's, juist the same," said Dannie bitterly. "Dinna ye
know the end of this sort of thing?"
"No, bedad, I don't!" said Jimmy. "If I knew any way to ind it,
you can bet I've had enough. I'd ind it quick enough, if I knew
how. But the railroad wouldn't be the ind. That would just be the
beginnin'. Keep close to me, Dannie, and talk, for mercy sake,
talk! Do you think we could finish the corn by noon?"
"Let's try!" said Dannie, as he squared his shoulders to adjust
them to his new load. "Then we'll get in the pumpkins this
afternoon, and bury the potatoes, and the cabbage and turnips,
and then we're aboot fixed fra winter."
"We must take one day, and gather our nuts," suggested Jimmy,
struggling to make his voice sound natural, "and you forgot the
apples. We must bury thim too."
"That's so," said Dannie, "and when that's over, we'll hae
nothing left to do but catch the Bass, and say farewell to the
Kingfisher."
"I've already told you that I would relave you of all
responsibility about the Bass," said Jimmy, "and when I do, you
won't need trouble to make your adieus to the Kingfisher of the
Wabash. He'll be one bird that won't be migrating this winter."
Dannie tried to laugh. "I'd like fall as much as any season of
the year," he said, "if it wasna for winter coming next."
"I thought you liked winter, and the trampin' in the white woods,
and trappin', and the long evenings with a book."
"I do," said Dannie. "I must have been thinkin' of Mary. She
hated last winter so. Of course, I had to go home when ye were
away, and the nichts were so long, and so cold, and mony of them
alone. I wonder if we canna arrange fra one of her sister's girls
to stay with her this winter?"
"What's the matter with me?" asked Jimmy.
"Nothing, if only ye'd stay," answered Dannie.
"All I'll be out of nights, you could put in one eye," said
Jimmy. "I went last winter, and before, because whin they
clamored too loud, I could be drivin' out the divils that way,
for a while, and you always came for me, but even that won't be
stopping it now. I wouldn't stick my head out alone after dark,
not if I was dying!"
"Jimmy, ye never felt that way before," said Dannie. "Tell me
what happened this summer to start ye."
"I've done a domn sight of faleing that you didn't know anything
about," answered Jimmy. "I could work it off at Casey's for a
while, but this summer things sort of came to a head, and I saw
meself for fair, and before God, Dannie, I didn't like me looks."
"Well, then, I like your looks," said Dannie. "Ye are the best
company I ever was in. Ye are the only mon I ever knew that I
cared fra, and I care fra ye so much, I havna the way to tell ye
how much. You're possessed with a damn fool idea, Jimmy, and ye
got to shake it off. Such a great-hearted, big mon as ye! I winna
have it! There's the dinner bell, and richt glad I am of it!"
That afternoon when pumpkingathering was over and Jimmy had
invited Mary out to separate the "punk" from the pumpkins, there
was a wagon-load of good ones above what they would need for
their use. Dannie proposed to take them to town and sell them. To
his amazement Jimmy refused to go along.
"I told you this morning that Casey wasn't calling me at
prisent," he said, "and whin I am not called I'd best not answer.
I have promised Mary to top the onions and bury the cilery, and
murder the bates."
"Do what wi' the beets?" inquired the puzzled Dannie.
"Kill thim! Kill thim stone dead. I'm too tinder-hearted to be
burying anything but a dead bate, Dannie. That's a thousand years
old, but laugh, like I knew you would, old Ramphirinkus! No,
thank you, I don't go to town!"
Then Dannie was scared. "He's going to be dreadfully seek or go
mad," he said.
So he drove to the village, sold the pumpkins, filled Mary's
order for groceries, and then went to the doctor, and told him of
Jimmy's latest developments.
"It is the drink," said that worthydisciple of Esculapius. "It's
the drink! In time it makes a fool sodden and a bright man mad.
Few men have sufficient brains to go crazy. Jimmy has. He must
stop the drink."
On the street, Dannie encountered Father Michael. The priest
stopped him to shake hands.
"How's Mary Malone?" he asked.
"She is quite well noo," answered Dannie, "but she is na happy. I
live so close, and see so much, I know. I've thought of ye
lately. I have thought of coming to see ye. I'm na of your
religion, but Mary is, and what suits her is guid enough for me.
I've tried to think of everything under the sun that might help,
and among other things I've thought of ye. Jimmy was confirmed in
your church, and he was more or less regular up to his marriage."
"Less, Mr. Macnoun, much less!" said the priest. "Since, not at
all. Why do you ask?"
"He is sick," said Dannie. "He drinks a guid deal. He has been
reckless about sleeping on the ground, and noo, if ye will make
this confidential?"--the priest nodded--"he is talking aboot
sleeping on the railroad, and he's having delusions. There are
devils after him. He is the finest fellow ye ever knew, Father
Michael. We've been friends all our lives. Ye have had much
experience with men, and it ought to count fra something. From
all ye know, and what I've told ye, could his trouble be cured as
the doctor suggests?"
The priest did a queer thing. "You know him as no living man,
Dannie," he said. "What do you think?"
Dannie's big hands slowly opened and closed. Then he fell to
polishing the nails of one hand on the palm of the other. At last
he answered, "If ye'd asked me that this time last year, I'd have
said `it's the drink,' at a jump. But times this summer, this
morning, for instance, when he hadna a drop in three weeks, and
dinna want ane, when he could have come wi' me to town, and
wouldna, and there were devils calling him from the ground, and
the trees, and the sky, out in the open cornfield, it looked
bad."
The priest's eyes were boring into Dannie's sick face. "How did
it look?" he asked briefly.
"It looked," said Dannie, and his voice dropped to a whisper, "it
looked like he might carry a damned ugly secret, that it would be
better fra him if ye, at least, knew."
"And the nature of that secret?"
Dannie shook his head. "Couldna give a guess at it! Known him all
his life. My only friend. Always been togither. Square a mon as
God ever made. There's na fault in him, if he'd let drink alone.
Got more faith in him than any ane I ever knew. I wouldna trust
mon on God's footstool, if I had to lose faith in Jimmy. Come to
think of it, that `secret' business is all old woman's scare. The
drink is telling on him. If only he could be cured of that awful
weakness, all heaven would come down and settle in Rainbow
Bottom."
They shook hands and parted without Dannie realizing that he had
told all he knew and learned nothing. Then he entered the post
office for the weekly mail. He called for Malone's papers also,
and with them came a slip from the express office notifying Jimmy
that there was a package for him. Dannie went to see if they
would let him have it, and as Jimmy lived in the country, and as
he and Dannie were known to be partners, he was allowed to sign
the book, and carry away a long, slender, wooden box, with a
Boston tag. The Thread Man had sent Jimmy a present, and from the
appearance of the box, Dannie made up his mind that it was a
cane.
Straightway he drove home at a scandalous rate of speed, and on
the way, he dressed Jimmy in a broadcloth suit, patent leathers,
and a silk hat. Then he took him to a gold cure, where he learned
to abhor whiskey in a week, and then to the priest, to whom he
confessed that he had lied about the number of coons in the
Canoper. And so peace brooded in Rainbow Bottom, and all of them
were happy again. For with the passing of summer, Dannie had
learned that heretofore there had been happiness of a sort, for
them, and that if they could all get back to the old footing it
would be well, or at least far better than it was at present.
With Mary's tongue dripping gall, and her sweet face souring, and
Jimmy hearing devils, no wonder poor Dannie overheated his team
in a race to carry a package that promised to furnish some
diversion.
Jimmy and Mary heard the racket, and standing on the celery hill,
they saw Dannie come clattering up the lane, and as he saw them,
he stood in the wagon, and waved the package over his head.
Jimmy straightened with a flourish, stuck the spade in the celery
hill, and descended with great deliberation. "I mintioned to
Dannie this morning," he said "that it was about time I was
hearin' from the Thrid Man."
"Oh! Do you suppose it is something from Boston?" the eagerness
in Mary's voice made it sound almost girlish again.
"Hunt the hatchet!" hissed Jimmy, and walked very leisurely into
the cabin.
Dannie was visibly excited as he entered. "I think ye have heard
from the Thread Mon," he said, handing Jimmy the package.
Jimmy took it, and examined it carefully. He never before in his
life had an express package, the contents of which he did not
know. It behooved him to get all there was out of the pride and
the joy of it.
Mary laid down the hatchet so close that it touched Jimmy's hand,
to remind him. "Now what do you suppose he has sent you?" she
inquired eagerly, her hand straying toward the packages.
Jimmy tested the box. "It don't weigh much," he said, "but one
end of it's the heaviest."
He set the hatchet in a tiny crack, and with one rip, stripped
off the cover. Inside lay a long, brown leather case, with small
buckles, and in one end a little leather case, flat on one side,
rounding on the other, and it, too, fastened with a buckle. Jimmy
caught sight of a paper book folded in the bottom of the box, as
he lifted the case. With trembling fingers he unfastened the
buckles, the whole thing unrolled, and disclosed a case of
leather, sewn in four divisions, from top to bottom, and from the
largest of these protruded a shining object. Jimmy caught this,
and began to draw, and the shine began to lengthen.
"Just what I thought!" exclaimed Dannie. "He's sent ye a fine
cane."
"A hint to kape out of the small of his back the nixt time he
goes promenadin' on a cow-kitcher! The divil!" exploded Jimmy.
His quick eyes had caught a word on the cover of the little book
- sleeve [sli:v]
n.袖子；袖套 (初中英语单词) - bitterly [´bitəli] ad.悲痛地；憎恨地 (初中英语单词)
- cabbage [´kæbidʒ] n.卷心菜；洋白菜 (初中英语单词)
- farewell [feə´wel] int.再见 n.&a.告别 (初中英语单词)
- amazement [ə´meizmənt] n.惊愕；惊奇 (初中英语单词)
- dreadfully [dredfuli] ad.可怕地；糟透地 (初中英语单词)
- worthy [´wə:ði] a.有价值的；值得的 (初中英语单词)
- priest [pri:st] n.教士；牧师；神父 (初中英语单词)
- sleeping [´sli:piŋ] n.&a.睡着(的) (初中英语单词)
- instance [´instəns] n.例子，实例，例证 (初中英语单词)
- whisper [´wispə] v.耳语 n.低语；沙沙声 (初中英语单词)
- weekly [´wi:kli] a.&ad.每周一次(的) (初中英语单词)
- package [´pækidʒ] n.包(裹) vt.组装 (初中英语单词)
- slender [´slendə] a.细长的；微薄的 (初中英语单词)
- wooden [´wudn] a.木制的；呆板的 (初中英语单词)
- patent [´peitənt, ´pæ-] a.专利的 n.专利品 (初中英语单词)
- standing [´stændiŋ] n.持续 a.直立的 (初中英语单词)
- flourish [´flʌriʃ] v.茂盛；挥动 n.挥舞 (初中英语单词)
- contents [´kɔ:ntents] n.容纳物；要旨 (初中英语单词)
- remind [ri´maind] vt.提醒；使记(想)起 (初中英语单词)
- eagerly [´i:gəli] ad.渴望地，急切地 (初中英语单词)
- unconscious [ʌn´kɔnʃəs] a.无意识的；不觉察的 (高中英语单词)
- moisten [´mɔisən] v.沾湿；变潮湿 (高中英语单词)
- pumpkin [´pʌmpkin] n.南瓜 (高中英语单词)
- damned [dæmd] a.该死的 ad.非常，极 (高中英语单词)
- learned [´lə:nid] a.有学问的，博学的 (高中英语单词)
- rainbow [´reinbəu] n.彩虹 (高中英语单词)
- hearing [´hiəriŋ] n.听力；听证会；审讯 (高中英语单词)
- racket [´rækit] n.(网球等的)拍；球拍 (高中英语单词)
- cutter [´kʌtə] n.裁剪师；刀具；快艇 (英语四级单词)
- setting [´setiŋ] n.安装；排字；布景 (英语四级单词)
- gathering [´gæðəriŋ] n.集会，聚集 (英语四级单词)
- disciple [di´saipəl] n.门徒，弟子 (英语四级单词)
- whiskey [´wiski] n.威士忌酒 =whisky (英语四级单词)
- heretofore [,hiətu´fɔ:] ad.以前，迄今为止 (英语四级单词)
- celery [´seləri] n.芹菜 (英语四级单词)
- deliberation [dilibə´reiʃ(ə)n] n.仔细考虑；商量 (英语四级单词)
- leisurely [´leʒəli] a.从容地，慢慢地 (英语四级单词)
- hatchet [´hætʃit] n.短柄小斧 (英语四级单词)
- buckle [´bʌkəl] n.带扣 v.(用...)扣住 (英语四级单词)
- calling [´kɔ:liŋ] n.点名；职业；欲望 (英语六级单词)
- cornfield [´kɔ:nfi:ld] n.稻田；麦田；玉米田 (英语六级单词)
- footing [´futiŋ] n.立脚点；基础；地位 (英语六级单词)
文章标签:名著
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