章节正文
is expecting you to do something. One can tell by the way he talks.
You should begin right away. You've wasted too much time already."
Poor Freckles hung his head. He never had wasted an hour in his life.
There never had been one that was his to waste.
The Angel, studying him intently, read the thought in his face.
"Oh, I don't mean that!" she cried, with the frank dismay of
sixteen. "Of course, you're not lazy! No one ever would think that
from your appearance. It's this I mean: there is something fine,
strong, and full of power in your face. There is something you are
to do in this world, and no matter how you work at all these other
things, or how successfully you do them, it is all wasted until you
find the ONE THING that you can do best. If you hadn't a thing in
the world to keep you, and could go anywhere you please and do
anything you want, what would you do?" persisted the Angel.
"I'd go to Chicago and sing in the First Episcopal choir," answered
Freckles promptly.
The Angel dropped on a seat--the hat she had removed and held in
her fingers rolled to her feet. "There!" she exclaimed vehemently.
"You can see what I'm going to be. Nothing! Absolutely nothing!
You can sing? Of course you can sing! It is written all over you."
"Anyone with half wit could have seen he could sing, without having
to be told," she thought. "It's in the slenderness of his fingers
and his quick nervous touch. It is in the brightness of his hair,
the fire of his eyes, the breadth of his chest, the muscles of his
throat and neck; and above all, it's in every tone of his voice,
for even as he speak it's the sweetest sound I ever heard from the
throat of a mortal."
"Will you do something for me?" she asked.
"I'll do anything in the world you want me to," said Freckles
largely, "and if I can't do what you want, I'll go to work at once
and I'll try `til I can."
"Good! That's business!" said the Angel. "You go over there and
stand before that hedge and sing something. Just anything you think
of first."
Freckles faced the Angel from his banked wall of brown, blue, and
crimson, with its background of solid green, and lifting his face
to the sky, he sang the first thing that came into his mind. It was
a children's song that he had led for the little folks at the Home
many times, recalled to his mind by the Angel's exclamation:
"To fairyland we go,
With a song of joy, heigh-o.
In dreams we'll stand upon that shore
And all the realm behold;
We'll see the sights so grand
That belong to fairyland,
Its mysteries we will explore,
Its beauties will unfold.
Oh, tra, la, la, oh, ha, ha, ha! We're happy now as we can be,
Our welcome song we will prolong, and greet you with our melody.
O fairyland, sweet fairyland, we love to sing----"
No song could have given the intensesweetness and rollicking
quality of Freckles' voice better scope. He forgot everything but
pride in his work. He was singing the chorus, and the Angel was
shivering in ecstasy, when clip! clip! came the sharply beating
feet of a swiftlyridden horse down the trail from the north. They
both sprang toward the entrance.
"Freckles! Freckles!" called the voice of the Bird Woman.
They were at the trail on the instant.
"Both those revolvers loaded?" she asked.
"Yes," said Freckles.
"Is there a way you can cut across the swamp and reach the chicken
tree in a few minutes, and with little noise?"
"Yes."
"Then go flying," said the Bird Woman. "Give the Angel a lift
behind me, and we will ride the horse back where you left him and
wait for you. I finished Little Chicken in no time and put him back.
His mother came so close, I felt sure she would enter the log.
The light was fine, so I set and focused the camera and covered
it with branches, attached the long hose, and went away over a
hundred feet and hid in some bushes to wait. A short, stout man
and a tall, dark one passed me so closely I almost could have reached
out and touched them. They carried a big saw on their shoulders.
They said they could work until near noon, and then they must lay
off until you passed and then try to load and get out at night.
They went on--not entirely from sight--and began cutting a tree.
Mr. McLean told me the other day what would probably happen here,
and if they fell that tree he loses his wager on you. Keep to the
east and north and hustle. We'll meet you at the carriage. I always
am armed. Give Angel one of your revolvers, and you keep the other.
We will separate and creep toward them from different sides and
give them a fusillade that will send them flying. You hurry, now!"
She lifted the reins and started briskly down the trail. The Angel,
hatless and with sparkling eyes, was clinging around her waist.
Freckles wheeled and ran. He worked his way with much care, dodging
limbs and bushes with noiseless tread, and cutting as closely where
he thought the men were as he felt that he dared if he were to
remain unseen. As he ran he tried to think. It was Wessner, burning
for his revenge, aided by the bully of the locality, that he was
going to meet. He was accustomed to that thought but not to the
complication of having two women on his hands who undoubtedly would
have to be taken care of in spite of the Bird Woman's offer to help him.
His heart was jarring as it never had before with running. He must
follow the Bird Woman's plan and meet them at the carriage, but if
they really did intend to try to help him, he must not allow it.
Allow the Angel to try to handle a revolver in his defence? Never!
Not for all the trees in the Limberlost! She might shoot herself.
She might forget to watch sharply and run across a snake that was
not particularly well behaved that morning. Freckles permitted
himself a grim smile as he went speeding on.
When he reached the carriage, the Bird Woman and the Angel had the
horse hitched, the outfit packed, and were calmlywaiting. The Bird
Woman held a revolver in her hand. She wore dark clothing. They had
pinned a big focusing cloth over the front of the Angel's light dress.
"Give Angel one of your revolvers, quick!" said the Bird Woman.
"We will creep up until we are in fair range. The underbrush is so
thick and they are so busy that they will never notice us, if we
don't make a noise. You fire first, then I will pop in from my
direction, and then you, Angel, and shoot quite high, or else very low.
We mustn't really hit them. We'll go close enough to the cowards
to make it interesting, and keep it up until we have them going."
Freckles protested.
The Bird Woman reached over, and, taking the smaller revolver from
his belt, handed it to the Angel. "Keep your nerve steady, dear;
watch where you step, and shoot high," she said. "Go straight at
them from where you are. Wait until you hear Freckles' first shot,
then follow me as closely as you can, to let them know that we
outnumber them. If you want to save McLean's wager on you, now you
go!" she commanded Freckles, who, with an agonized glance at the
Angel, ran toward the east.
The Bird Woman chose the middle distance, and for a last time
cautioned the Angel as she moved away to lie down and shoot high.
Through the underbrush the Bird Woman crept even more closely than
she had intended, found a clear range, and waited for Freckles' shot.
There was one long minute of sickeningsuspense. The men
straightened for breath. Work was difficult with a handsaw in the
heat of the swamp. As they rested, the big dark fellow took a
bottle from his pocket and began oiling the saw.
"We got to keep mighty quiet," he said, "and wait to fell it until
that damned guard has gone to his dinner."
Again they bent to their work. Freckles' revolver spat fire. Lead
spanged on steel. The saw-handle flew from Wessner's hand and he
reeled from the jar of the shock. Black Jack straightened, uttering
a fearful oath. The hat sailed from his head from the far northeast.
The Angel had not waited for the Bird Woman, and her shot scarcely
could have been called high. At almost the same instant the third
shot whistled from the east. Black Jack sprang into the air with
a yell of complete panic, for it ripped a heel from his boot.
Freckles emptied his second chamber, and the earth spattered
over Wessner. Shots poured in rapidly. Without even reaching
for a weapon, both men ran toward the east road in great leaping
bounds, while leaden slugs sung and hissed around them in
deadly earnest.
Freckles was trimming his corners as closely as he dared, but if
the Angel did not really intend to hit, she was taking risks in a
scandalous manner.
When the men reached the trail, Freckles yelled at the top of his
voice: "Head them off on the south, boys! Fire from the south!"
As he had hoped, Jack and Wessner instantly plunged into the swale.
A spattering of lead followed them. They crossed the swale, running
low, with not even one backward glance, and entered the woods
beyond the corduroy.
Then the little party gathered at the tree.
"I'd better fix this saw so they can't be using it if they come
back," said Freckles, taking out his hatchet and making saw-teeth fly.
"Now we must leave here without being seen," said the Bird Woman to
the Angel. "It won't do for me to make enemies of these men, for I
am likely to meet them while at work any day."
"You can do it by driving straight north on this road," said Freckles.
"I will go ahead and cut the wires for you. The swale is almost dry.
You will only be sinking a little. In a few rods you will strike
a cornfield. I will take down the fence and let you into that.
Follow the furrows and drive straight across it until you come to
the other side. Be following the fence south until you come to a
road through the woods east of it. Then take that road and follow
east until you reach the pike. You will come out on your way back
to town, and two miles north of anywhere they are likely to be.
Don't for your lives ever let it out that you did this," he
earnestly cautioned, "for it's black enemies you would be making."
Freckles clipped the wires and they drove through. The Angel leaned
from the carriage and held out his revolver. Freckles looked at her
in surprise. Her eyes were black, while her face was a deeper rose
than usual. He felt that his own was white.
"Did I shoot high enough?" she asked sweetly. "I really forgot
about lying down."
Freckles winced. Did the child know how close she had gone?
Surely she could not! Or was it possible that she had the nerve
and skill to fire like that purposely?
"I will send the first reliable man I meet for McLean," said the
Bird Woman, gathering up the lines. "If I don't meet one when we
reach town, we will send a messenger. If it wasn't for having the
gang see me, I would go myself; but I will promise you that you
will have help in a little over two hours. You keep well hidden.
They must think some of the gang is with you now. There isn't a
chance that they will be back, but don't run any risks. Remain
under cover. If they should come, it probably would be for
their saw." She laughed as at a fine joke.
CHAPTER VII
Wherein Freckles Wins Honor and Finds a Footprint on the Trail
Round-eyed, Freckles watched the Bird Woman and the Angel drive
away. After they were from sight and he was safelyhidden among the
branches of a small tree, he remembered that he neither had thanked
them nor said good-bye. Considering what they had been through,
they never would come again. His heart sank until he had
palpitation in his wading-boots.
Stretching the length of the limb, he thought deeply, though he was
not thinking of Black Jack or Wessner. Would the Bird Woman and the
Angel come again? No other woman whom he ever had known would.
But did they resemble any other women he ever had known? He thought
of the Bird Woman's unruffled face and the Angel's revolver practice,
and presently he was not so sure that they would not return.
What were the people in the big world like? His knowledge was so
You should begin right away. You've wasted too much time already."
Poor Freckles hung his head. He never had wasted an hour in his life.
There never had been one that was his to waste.
The Angel, studying him intently, read the thought in his face.
"Oh, I don't mean that!" she cried, with the frank dismay of
sixteen. "Of course, you're not lazy! No one ever would think that
from your appearance. It's this I mean: there is something fine,
strong, and full of power in your face. There is something you are
to do in this world, and no matter how you work at all these other
things, or how successfully you do them, it is all wasted until you
find the ONE THING that you can do best. If you hadn't a thing in
the world to keep you, and could go anywhere you please and do
anything you want, what would you do?" persisted the Angel.
"I'd go to Chicago and sing in the First Episcopal choir," answered
Freckles promptly.
The Angel dropped on a seat--the hat she had removed and held in
her fingers rolled to her feet. "There!" she exclaimed vehemently.
"You can see what I'm going to be. Nothing! Absolutely nothing!
You can sing? Of course you can sing! It is written all over you."
"Anyone with half wit could have seen he could sing, without having
to be told," she thought. "It's in the slenderness of his fingers
and his quick nervous touch. It is in the brightness of his hair,
the fire of his eyes, the breadth of his chest, the muscles of his
throat and neck; and above all, it's in every tone of his voice,
for even as he speak it's the sweetest sound I ever heard from the
throat of a mortal."
"Will you do something for me?" she asked.
"I'll do anything in the world you want me to," said Freckles
largely, "and if I can't do what you want, I'll go to work at once
and I'll try `til I can."
"Good! That's business!" said the Angel. "You go over there and
stand before that hedge and sing something. Just anything you think
of first."
Freckles faced the Angel from his banked wall of brown, blue, and
crimson, with its background of solid green, and lifting his face
to the sky, he sang the first thing that came into his mind. It was
a children's song that he had led for the little folks at the Home
many times, recalled to his mind by the Angel's exclamation:
"To fairyland we go,
With a song of joy, heigh-o.
In dreams we'll stand upon that shore
And all the realm behold;
We'll see the sights so grand
That belong to fairyland,
Its mysteries we will explore,
Its beauties will unfold.
Oh, tra, la, la, oh, ha, ha, ha! We're happy now as we can be,
Our welcome song we will prolong, and greet you with our melody.
O fairyland, sweet fairyland, we love to sing----"
No song could have given the intensesweetness and rollicking
quality of Freckles' voice better scope. He forgot everything but
pride in his work. He was singing the chorus, and the Angel was
shivering in ecstasy, when clip! clip! came the sharply beating
feet of a swiftlyridden horse down the trail from the north. They
both sprang toward the entrance.
"Freckles! Freckles!" called the voice of the Bird Woman.
They were at the trail on the instant.
"Both those revolvers loaded?" she asked.
"Yes," said Freckles.
"Is there a way you can cut across the swamp and reach the chicken
tree in a few minutes, and with little noise?"
"Yes."
"Then go flying," said the Bird Woman. "Give the Angel a lift
behind me, and we will ride the horse back where you left him and
wait for you. I finished Little Chicken in no time and put him back.
His mother came so close, I felt sure she would enter the log.
The light was fine, so I set and focused the camera and covered
it with branches, attached the long hose, and went away over a
hundred feet and hid in some bushes to wait. A short, stout man
and a tall, dark one passed me so closely I almost could have reached
out and touched them. They carried a big saw on their shoulders.
They said they could work until near noon, and then they must lay
off until you passed and then try to load and get out at night.
They went on--not entirely from sight--and began cutting a tree.
Mr. McLean told me the other day what would probably happen here,
and if they fell that tree he loses his wager on you. Keep to the
east and north and hustle. We'll meet you at the carriage. I always
am armed. Give Angel one of your revolvers, and you keep the other.
We will separate and creep toward them from different sides and
give them a fusillade that will send them flying. You hurry, now!"
She lifted the reins and started briskly down the trail. The Angel,
hatless and with sparkling eyes, was clinging around her waist.
Freckles wheeled and ran. He worked his way with much care, dodging
limbs and bushes with noiseless tread, and cutting as closely where
he thought the men were as he felt that he dared if he were to
remain unseen. As he ran he tried to think. It was Wessner, burning
for his revenge, aided by the bully of the locality, that he was
going to meet. He was accustomed to that thought but not to the
complication of having two women on his hands who undoubtedly would
have to be taken care of in spite of the Bird Woman's offer to help him.
His heart was jarring as it never had before with running. He must
follow the Bird Woman's plan and meet them at the carriage, but if
they really did intend to try to help him, he must not allow it.
Allow the Angel to try to handle a revolver in his defence? Never!
Not for all the trees in the Limberlost! She might shoot herself.
She might forget to watch sharply and run across a snake that was
not particularly well behaved that morning. Freckles permitted
himself a grim smile as he went speeding on.
When he reached the carriage, the Bird Woman and the Angel had the
horse hitched, the outfit packed, and were calmlywaiting. The Bird
Woman held a revolver in her hand. She wore dark clothing. They had
pinned a big focusing cloth over the front of the Angel's light dress.
"Give Angel one of your revolvers, quick!" said the Bird Woman.
"We will creep up until we are in fair range. The underbrush is so
thick and they are so busy that they will never notice us, if we
don't make a noise. You fire first, then I will pop in from my
direction, and then you, Angel, and shoot quite high, or else very low.
We mustn't really hit them. We'll go close enough to the cowards
to make it interesting, and keep it up until we have them going."
Freckles protested.
The Bird Woman reached over, and, taking the smaller revolver from
his belt, handed it to the Angel. "Keep your nerve steady, dear;
watch where you step, and shoot high," she said. "Go straight at
them from where you are. Wait until you hear Freckles' first shot,
then follow me as closely as you can, to let them know that we
outnumber them. If you want to save McLean's wager on you, now you
go!" she commanded Freckles, who, with an agonized glance at the
Angel, ran toward the east.
The Bird Woman chose the middle distance, and for a last time
cautioned the Angel as she moved away to lie down and shoot high.
Through the underbrush the Bird Woman crept even more closely than
she had intended, found a clear range, and waited for Freckles' shot.
There was one long minute of sickeningsuspense. The men
straightened for breath. Work was difficult with a handsaw in the
heat of the swamp. As they rested, the big dark fellow took a
bottle from his pocket and began oiling the saw.
"We got to keep mighty quiet," he said, "and wait to fell it until
that damned guard has gone to his dinner."
Again they bent to their work. Freckles' revolver spat fire. Lead
spanged on steel. The saw-handle flew from Wessner's hand and he
reeled from the jar of the shock. Black Jack straightened, uttering
a fearful oath. The hat sailed from his head from the far northeast.
The Angel had not waited for the Bird Woman, and her shot scarcely
could have been called high. At almost the same instant the third
shot whistled from the east. Black Jack sprang into the air with
a yell of complete panic, for it ripped a heel from his boot.
Freckles emptied his second chamber, and the earth spattered
over Wessner. Shots poured in rapidly. Without even reaching
for a weapon, both men ran toward the east road in great leaping
bounds, while leaden slugs sung and hissed around them in
deadly earnest.
Freckles was trimming his corners as closely as he dared, but if
the Angel did not really intend to hit, she was taking risks in a
scandalous manner.
When the men reached the trail, Freckles yelled at the top of his
voice: "Head them off on the south, boys! Fire from the south!"
As he had hoped, Jack and Wessner instantly plunged into the swale.
A spattering of lead followed them. They crossed the swale, running
low, with not even one backward glance, and entered the woods
beyond the corduroy.
Then the little party gathered at the tree.
"I'd better fix this saw so they can't be using it if they come
back," said Freckles, taking out his hatchet and making saw-teeth fly.
"Now we must leave here without being seen," said the Bird Woman to
the Angel. "It won't do for me to make enemies of these men, for I
am likely to meet them while at work any day."
"You can do it by driving straight north on this road," said Freckles.
"I will go ahead and cut the wires for you. The swale is almost dry.
You will only be sinking a little. In a few rods you will strike
a cornfield. I will take down the fence and let you into that.
Follow the furrows and drive straight across it until you come to
the other side. Be following the fence south until you come to a
road through the woods east of it. Then take that road and follow
east until you reach the pike. You will come out on your way back
to town, and two miles north of anywhere they are likely to be.
Don't for your lives ever let it out that you did this," he
earnestly cautioned, "for it's black enemies you would be making."
Freckles clipped the wires and they drove through. The Angel leaned
from the carriage and held out his revolver. Freckles looked at her
in surprise. Her eyes were black, while her face was a deeper rose
than usual. He felt that his own was white.
"Did I shoot high enough?" she asked sweetly. "I really forgot
about lying down."
Freckles winced. Did the child know how close she had gone?
Surely she could not! Or was it possible that she had the nerve
and skill to fire like that purposely?
"I will send the first reliable man I meet for McLean," said the
Bird Woman, gathering up the lines. "If I don't meet one when we
reach town, we will send a messenger. If it wasn't for having the
gang see me, I would go myself; but I will promise you that you
will have help in a little over two hours. You keep well hidden.
They must think some of the gang is with you now. There isn't a
chance that they will be back, but don't run any risks. Remain
under cover. If they should come, it probably would be for
their saw." She laughed as at a fine joke.
CHAPTER VII
Wherein Freckles Wins Honor and Finds a Footprint on the Trail
Round-eyed, Freckles watched the Bird Woman and the Angel drive
away. After they were from sight and he was safelyhidden among the
branches of a small tree, he remembered that he neither had thanked
them nor said good-bye. Considering what they had been through,
they never would come again. His heart sank until he had
palpitation in his wading-boots.
Stretching the length of the limb, he thought deeply, though he was
not thinking of Black Jack or Wessner. Would the Bird Woman and the
Angel come again? No other woman whom he ever had known would.
But did they resemble any other women he ever had known? He thought
of the Bird Woman's unruffled face and the Angel's revolver practice,
and presently he was not so sure that they would not return.
What were the people in the big world like? His knowledge was so
- dismay [dis´mei]
n.惊慌 vt.使惊慌 (初中英语单词) - anywhere [´eniweə] ad.无论何处；任何地方 (初中英语单词)
- absolutely [´æbsəlu:tli] ad.绝对地；确实 (初中英语单词)
- nervous [´nə:vəs] a.神经的；神经过敏的 (初中英语单词)
- background [´bækgraund] n.背景；经历；幕后 (初中英语单词)
- welcome [´welkəm] a.受欢迎的；可喜的 (初中英语单词)
- chorus [´kɔ:rəs] n.合唱；齐声 v.合唱 (初中英语单词)
- sharply [´ʃɑ:pli] ad.锋利地；剧烈地 (初中英语单词)
- swiftly [´swiftli] ad.迅速地，敏捷地 (初中英语单词)
- sprang [spræŋ] spring 的过去式 (初中英语单词)
- carriage [´kæridʒ] n.马车；客车；货运 (初中英语单词)
- revenge [ri´vendʒ] vt.报复 n.报仇；报复 (初中英语单词)
- undoubtedly [ʌn´dautidli] ad.无疑地，确实地 (初中英语单词)
- running [´rʌniŋ] a.奔跑的；流动的 (初中英语单词)
- calmly [´kɑ:mli] ad.平静地；无风浪地 (初中英语单词)
- waiting [´weitiŋ] n.等候；伺候 (初中英语单词)
- breath [breθ] n.呼吸；气息 (初中英语单词)
- fearful [´fiəfəl] a.可怕的；担心的 (初中英语单词)
- instant [´instənt] a.立即的 n.紧迫；瞬间 (初中英语单词)
- weapon [´wepən] n.武器；斗争手段 (初中英语单词)
- instantly [´instəntli] ad.立即，立刻 (初中英语单词)
- backward [´bækwəd] ad.向后 a.向后的 (初中英语单词)
- messenger [´mesindʒə] n.使者；送信人 (初中英语单词)
- safely [´seifli] ad.安全地；平安地 (初中英语单词)
- hidden [´hid(ə)n] hide 的过去分词 (初中英语单词)
- resemble [ri´zembəl] vt.类似，象 (初中英语单词)
- presently [´prezəntli] ad.不久；目前 (初中英语单词)
- successfully [sək´sesfəli] ad.成功地 (高中英语单词)
- brightness [´braitnis] n.光明；快乐 (高中英语单词)
- breadth [bredθ] n.宽度，幅面，广度 (高中英语单词)
- prolong [prə´lɔŋ] vt.延长；拉长；拖延 (高中英语单词)
- intense [in´tens] a.强烈的；紧张的 (高中英语单词)
- sweetness [´swi:tnis] n.甜蜜；芳香；亲切 (高中英语单词)
- ecstasy [´ekstəsi] n.狂喜；出神，入迷 (高中英语单词)
- unseen [,ʌn´si:n] a.未看见的 (高中英语单词)
- locality [ləu´kæliti] n.位置，地区，发生地 (高中英语单词)
- outfit [´aut,fit] n.装备 vt.供给；装备 (高中英语单词)
- mighty [´maiti] a.强有力的 ad.很 (高中英语单词)
- damned [dæmd] a.该死的 ad.非常，极 (高中英语单词)
- chamber [´tʃeimbə] n.房间；议院；会议室 (高中英语单词)
- sweetly [´swi:tli] ad.甜蜜地；美妙地 (高中英语单词)
- reliable [ri´laiəbl] a.可靠的；可信赖的 (高中英语单词)
- intently [in´tentli] ad.专心地 (英语四级单词)
- chicago [ʃi´kɑ:gəu] n.芝加哥 (英语四级单词)
- fairyland [´fɛərilænd] n.仙境，奇境 (英语四级单词)
- ridden [´ridn] ride 的过去分词 (英语四级单词)
- hustle [´hʌsəl] v.猛挤；催促 n.乱堆 (英语四级单词)
- briskly [´briskli] ad.轻快地；活泼地 (英语四级单词)
- revolver [ri´vɔlvə] n.左轮手枪；旋转者 (英语四级单词)
- underbrush [´ʌndəbrʌʃ] n.矮树丛 (英语四级单词)
- sickening [´sikəniŋ, ´sikniŋ] a.引起疾病的 (英语四级单词)
- hatchet [´hætʃit] n.短柄小斧 (英语四级单词)
- gathering [´gæðəriŋ] n.集会，聚集 (英语四级单词)
- considering [kən´sidəriŋ] prep.就...而论 (英语四级单词)
- episcopal [i´piskəpəl] a.主教的，主教管辖的 (英语六级单词)
- taking [´teikiŋ] a.迷人的 n.捕获物 (英语六级单词)
- suspense [sə´spens] n.悬挂；悬虑不安 (英语六级单词)
- cornfield [´kɔ:nfi:ld] n.稻田；麦田；玉米田 (英语六级单词)
- footprint [´fut,print] n.脚印，足迹 (英语六级单词)
文章标签:名著
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