章节正文
a damn bad man with a gun."
This time Duane laughed, not at the doubtfulcompliment, but at
the idea that the first outlaw he met should know him. Here was
proof of how swiftly facts about gun-play traveled on the Texas
border.
"Wal, Buck," said Stevens, in a friendly manner, "I ain't
presumin' on your time or company. I see you're headin' fer the
river. But will you stop long enough to stake a feller to a
bite of grub?"
"I'm out of grub, and pretty hungry myself," admitted Duane.
"Been pushin' your hoss, I see. Wal, I reckon you'd better
stock up before you hit thet stretch of country."
He made a wide sweep of his right arm, indicating the
southwest, and there was that in his action which seemed
significant of a vast and barren region.
"Stock up?" queried Duane, thoughtfully.
"Shore. A feller has jest got to eat. I can rustle along
without whisky, but not without grub. Thet's what makes it so
embarrassin' travelin' these parts dodgin' your shadow. Now,
I'm on my way to Mercer. It's a little two-bit town up the
river a ways. I'm goin' to pack out some grub."
Stevens's tone was inviting. Evidently he would welcome Duane's
companionship, but he did not openly say so. Duane kept
silence, however, and then Stevens went on.
"Stranger, in this here country two's a crowd. It's safer. 1
never was much on this lone-wolf dodgin', though I've done it
of necessity. It takes a damn good man to travel alone any
length of time. Why, I've been thet sick I was jest achin' fer
some ranger to come along an' plug me. Give me a pardner any
day. Now, mebbe you're not thet kind of a feller, an' I'm shore
not presumin' to ask. But I just declares myself sufficient."
"You mean you'd like me to go with you?" asked Duane.
Stevens grinned. "Wal, I should smile. I'd be particular proud
to be braced with a man of your reputation."
"See here, my good fellow, that's all nonsense," declared
Duane, in some haste.
"Shore I think modesty becomin' to a youngster," replied
Stevens. "I hate a brag. An' I've no use fer these four-flush
cowboys thet 're always lookin' fer trouble an' talkin'
gun-play. Buck, I don't know much about you. But every man
who's lived along the Texas border remembers a lot about your
Dad. It was expected of you, I reckon, an' much of your rep was
established before you thronged your gun. I jest heerd thet you
was lightnin' on the draw, an' when you cut loose with a gun,
why the figger on the ace of spades would cover your cluster of
bullet-holes. Thet's the word thet's gone down the border. It's
the kind of reputation most sure to fly far an' swift ahead of
a man in this country. An' the safest, too; I'll gamble on
thet. It's the land of the draw. I see now you're only a boy,
though you're shore a strappin' husky one. Now, Buck, I'm not a
spring chicken, an' I've been long on the dodge. Mebbe a little
of my society won't hurt you none. You'll need to learn the
country."
There was something sincere and likable about this outlaw.
"I dare say you're right," replied Duane, quietly. "And I'll go
to Mercer with you."
Next moment he was riding down the road with Stevens. Duane had
never been much of a talker, and now he found speech difficult.
But his companion did not seem to mind that. He was a jocose,
voluble fellow, probably glad now to hear the sound of his own
voice. Duane listened, and sometimes he thought with a pang of
the distinction of name and heritage of blood his father had
left to him.
CHAPTER III
Late that day, a couple of hours before sunset, Duane and
Stevens, having rested their horses in the shade of some
mesquites near the town of Mercer, saddled up and prepared to
move.
"Buck, as we're lookin' fer grub, an' not trouble, I reckon
you'd better hang up out here," Stevens was saying, as he
mounted. "You see, towns an' sheriffs an' rangers are always
lookin' fer new fellers gone bad. They sort of forget most of
the old boys, except those as are plumb bad. Now, nobody in
Mercer will take notice of me. Reckon there's been a thousand
men run into the river country to become outlaws since yours
truly. You jest wait here an' be ready to ride hard. Mebbe my
besettin' sin will go operatin' in spite of my good intentions.
In which case there'll be--"
His pause was significant. He grinned, and his brown eyes
danced with a kind of wild humor.
"Stevens, have you got any money?" asked Duane.
"Money!" exclaimed Luke, blankly. "Say, I haven't owned a
two-bit piece since--wal, fer some time."
"I'll furnish money for grub," returned Duane. "And for whisky,
too, providing you hurry back here--without making trouble."
"Shore you're a downright good pard," declared Stevens, in
admiration, as he took the money. "I give my word, Buck, an'
I'm here to say I never broke it yet. Lay low, an' look fer me
back quick."
With that he spurred his horse and rode out of the mesquites
toward the town. At that distance, about a quarter of a mile,
Mercer appeared to be a cluster of low adobe houses set in a
grove of cottonwoods. Pastures of alfalfa were dotted by horses
and cattle. Duane saw a sheep-herder driving in a meager flock.
Presently Stevens rode out of sight into the town. Duane
waited, hoping the outlaw would make good his word. Probably
not a quarter of an hour had elapsed when Duane heard the clear
reports of a Winchester rifle, the clatter of rapid hoof-beats,
and yells unmistakably the kind to mean danger for a man like
Stevens. Duane mounted and rode to the edge of the mesquites.
He saw a cloud of dust down the road and a bay horse running
fast. Stevens apparently had not been wounded by any of the
shots, for he had a steady seat in his saddle and his riding,
even at that moment, struck Duane as admirable. He carried a
large pack over the pommel, and he kept looking back. The shots
had ceased, but the yells increased. Duane saw several men
running and waving their arms. Then he spurred his horse and
got into a swift stride, so Stevens would not pass him.
Presently the outlaw caught up with him. Stevens was grinning,
but there was now no fun in the dancing eyes. It was a devil
that danced n them. His face seemed a shade paler.
"Was jest comin' out of the store," yelled Stevens. "Run plumb
into a rancher--who knowed me. He opened up with a rifle. Think
they'll chase us."
They covered several miles before there were any signs of
pursuit, and when horsemen did move into sight out of the
cottonwoods Duane and his companionsteadily drew farther away.
"No hosses in thet bunch to worry us," called out Stevens.
Duane had the same conviction, and he did not look back again.
He rode somewhat to the fore, and was constantly aware of the
rapid thudding of hoofs behind, as Stevens kept close to him.
At sunset they reached the willow brakes and the river. Duane's
horse was winded and lashed with sweat and lather. It was not
until the crossing had been accomplished that Duane halted to
rest his animal. Stevens was riding up the low, sandy bank. He
reeled in the saddle. With an exclamation of surprise Duane
leaped off and ran to the outlaw's side.
Stevens was pale, and his face bore beads of sweat. The whole
front of his shirt was soaked with blood.
"You're shot!" cried Duane.
"Wal, who 'n hell said I wasn't? Would you mind givin' me a
lift--on this here pack?"
Duane lifted the heavy pack down and then helped Stevens to
dismount. The outlaw had a bloody foam on his lips, and he was
spitting blood.
"Oh, why didn't you say so!" cried Duane. "I never thought. You
seemed all right."
"Wal, Luke Stevens may be as gabby as an old woman, but
sometimes he doesn't say anythin'. It wouldn't have done no
good."
Duane bade him sit down, removed his shirt, and washed the
blood from his breast and back. Stevens had been shot in the
breast, fairly low down, and the bullet had gone clear through
him. His ride, holding himself and that heavy pack in the
saddle, had been a feat little short of marvelous. Duane did
not see how it had been possible, and he felt no hope for the
outlaw. But he plugged the wounds and bound them tightly.
"Feller's name was Brown," Stevens said. "Me an' him fell out
over a hoss I stole from him over in Huntsville. We had a
shootin'-scrape then. Wal, as I was straddlin' my hoss back
there in Mercer I seen this Brown, an' seen him before he seen
me. Could have killed him, too. But I wasn't breakin' my word
to you. I kind of hoped he wouldn't spot me. But he did--an'
fust shot he got me here. What do you think of this hole?"
"It's pretty bad," replied Duane; and he could not look the
cheerfuloutlaw in the eyes.
"I reckon it is. Wal, I've had some bad wounds I lived over.
Guess mebbe I can stand this one. Now, Buck, get me some place
in the brakes, leave me some grub an' water at my hand, an'
then you clear out."
"Leave you here alone?" asked Duane, sharply.
"Shore. You see, I can't keep up with you. Brown an' his
friends will foller us across the river a ways. You've got to
think of number one in this game."
"What would you do in my case?" asked Duane, curiously.
"Wal, I reckon I'd clear out an' save my hide," replied
Stevens.
Duane felt inclined to doubt the outlaw's assertion. For his
own part he decided his conduct without further speech. First
he watered the horses, filled canteens and water bag, and then
tied the pack upon his own horse. That done, he lifted Stevens
upon his horse, and, holding him in the saddle, turned into the
brakes, being careful to pick out hard or grassy ground that
left little signs of tracks. Just about dark he ran across a
trail that Stevens said was a good one to take into the wild
country.
"Reckon we'd better keep right on in the dark--till I drop,"
concluded Stevens, with a laugh.
All that night Duane, gloomy and thoughtful, attentive to the
wounded outlaw, walked the trail and never halted till
daybreak. He was tired then and very hungry. Stevens seemed in
bad shape, although he was still spirited and cheerful. Duane
made camp. The outlaw refused food, but asked for both whisky
and water. Then he stretched out.
"Buck, will you take off my boots?" he asked, with a faint
smile on his pallid face.
Duane removed them, wondering if the outlaw had the thought
that he did not want to die with his boots on. Stevens seemed
to read his mind.
"Buck, my old daddy used to say thet I was born to be hanged.
But I wasn't--an' dyin' with your boots on is the next wust way
to croak."
"You've a chance to-to get over this," said Duane.
"Shore. But I want to be correct about the boots--an' say,
pard, if I do go over, jest you remember thet I was
appreciatin' of your kindness."
Then he closed his eyes and seemed to sleep.
Duane could not find water for the horses, but there was an
abundance of dew-wet grass upon which he hobbled them. After
that was done he prepared himself a much-needed meal. The sun
was getting warm when he lay down to sleep, and when he awoke
This time Duane laughed, not at the doubtfulcompliment, but at
the idea that the first outlaw he met should know him. Here was
proof of how swiftly facts about gun-play traveled on the Texas
border.
"Wal, Buck," said Stevens, in a friendly manner, "I ain't
presumin' on your time or company. I see you're headin' fer the
river. But will you stop long enough to stake a feller to a
bite of grub?"
"I'm out of grub, and pretty hungry myself," admitted Duane.
"Been pushin' your hoss, I see. Wal, I reckon you'd better
stock up before you hit thet stretch of country."
He made a wide sweep of his right arm, indicating the
southwest, and there was that in his action which seemed
significant of a vast and barren region.
"Stock up?" queried Duane, thoughtfully.
"Shore. A feller has jest got to eat. I can rustle along
without whisky, but not without grub. Thet's what makes it so
embarrassin' travelin' these parts dodgin' your shadow. Now,
I'm on my way to Mercer. It's a little two-bit town up the
river a ways. I'm goin' to pack out some grub."
Stevens's tone was inviting. Evidently he would welcome Duane's
companionship, but he did not openly say so. Duane kept
silence, however, and then Stevens went on.
"Stranger, in this here country two's a crowd. It's safer. 1
never was much on this lone-wolf dodgin', though I've done it
of necessity. It takes a damn good man to travel alone any
length of time. Why, I've been thet sick I was jest achin' fer
some ranger to come along an' plug me. Give me a pardner any
day. Now, mebbe you're not thet kind of a feller, an' I'm shore
not presumin' to ask. But I just declares myself sufficient."
"You mean you'd like me to go with you?" asked Duane.
Stevens grinned. "Wal, I should smile. I'd be particular proud
to be braced with a man of your reputation."
"See here, my good fellow, that's all nonsense," declared
Duane, in some haste.
"Shore I think modesty becomin' to a youngster," replied
Stevens. "I hate a brag. An' I've no use fer these four-flush
cowboys thet 're always lookin' fer trouble an' talkin'
gun-play. Buck, I don't know much about you. But every man
who's lived along the Texas border remembers a lot about your
Dad. It was expected of you, I reckon, an' much of your rep was
established before you thronged your gun. I jest heerd thet you
was lightnin' on the draw, an' when you cut loose with a gun,
why the figger on the ace of spades would cover your cluster of
bullet-holes. Thet's the word thet's gone down the border. It's
the kind of reputation most sure to fly far an' swift ahead of
a man in this country. An' the safest, too; I'll gamble on
thet. It's the land of the draw. I see now you're only a boy,
though you're shore a strappin' husky one. Now, Buck, I'm not a
spring chicken, an' I've been long on the dodge. Mebbe a little
of my society won't hurt you none. You'll need to learn the
country."
There was something sincere and likable about this outlaw.
"I dare say you're right," replied Duane, quietly. "And I'll go
to Mercer with you."
Next moment he was riding down the road with Stevens. Duane had
never been much of a talker, and now he found speech difficult.
But his companion did not seem to mind that. He was a jocose,
voluble fellow, probably glad now to hear the sound of his own
voice. Duane listened, and sometimes he thought with a pang of
the distinction of name and heritage of blood his father had
left to him.
CHAPTER III
Late that day, a couple of hours before sunset, Duane and
Stevens, having rested their horses in the shade of some
mesquites near the town of Mercer, saddled up and prepared to
move.
"Buck, as we're lookin' fer grub, an' not trouble, I reckon
you'd better hang up out here," Stevens was saying, as he
mounted. "You see, towns an' sheriffs an' rangers are always
lookin' fer new fellers gone bad. They sort of forget most of
the old boys, except those as are plumb bad. Now, nobody in
Mercer will take notice of me. Reckon there's been a thousand
men run into the river country to become outlaws since yours
truly. You jest wait here an' be ready to ride hard. Mebbe my
besettin' sin will go operatin' in spite of my good intentions.
In which case there'll be--"
His pause was significant. He grinned, and his brown eyes
danced with a kind of wild humor.
"Stevens, have you got any money?" asked Duane.
"Money!" exclaimed Luke, blankly. "Say, I haven't owned a
two-bit piece since--wal, fer some time."
"I'll furnish money for grub," returned Duane. "And for whisky,
too, providing you hurry back here--without making trouble."
"Shore you're a downright good pard," declared Stevens, in
admiration, as he took the money. "I give my word, Buck, an'
I'm here to say I never broke it yet. Lay low, an' look fer me
back quick."
With that he spurred his horse and rode out of the mesquites
toward the town. At that distance, about a quarter of a mile,
Mercer appeared to be a cluster of low adobe houses set in a
grove of cottonwoods. Pastures of alfalfa were dotted by horses
and cattle. Duane saw a sheep-herder driving in a meager flock.
Presently Stevens rode out of sight into the town. Duane
waited, hoping the outlaw would make good his word. Probably
not a quarter of an hour had elapsed when Duane heard the clear
reports of a Winchester rifle, the clatter of rapid hoof-beats,
and yells unmistakably the kind to mean danger for a man like
Stevens. Duane mounted and rode to the edge of the mesquites.
He saw a cloud of dust down the road and a bay horse running
fast. Stevens apparently had not been wounded by any of the
shots, for he had a steady seat in his saddle and his riding,
even at that moment, struck Duane as admirable. He carried a
large pack over the pommel, and he kept looking back. The shots
had ceased, but the yells increased. Duane saw several men
running and waving their arms. Then he spurred his horse and
got into a swift stride, so Stevens would not pass him.
Presently the outlaw caught up with him. Stevens was grinning,
but there was now no fun in the dancing eyes. It was a devil
that danced n them. His face seemed a shade paler.
"Was jest comin' out of the store," yelled Stevens. "Run plumb
into a rancher--who knowed me. He opened up with a rifle. Think
they'll chase us."
They covered several miles before there were any signs of
pursuit, and when horsemen did move into sight out of the
cottonwoods Duane and his companionsteadily drew farther away.
"No hosses in thet bunch to worry us," called out Stevens.
Duane had the same conviction, and he did not look back again.
He rode somewhat to the fore, and was constantly aware of the
rapid thudding of hoofs behind, as Stevens kept close to him.
At sunset they reached the willow brakes and the river. Duane's
horse was winded and lashed with sweat and lather. It was not
until the crossing had been accomplished that Duane halted to
rest his animal. Stevens was riding up the low, sandy bank. He
reeled in the saddle. With an exclamation of surprise Duane
leaped off and ran to the outlaw's side.
Stevens was pale, and his face bore beads of sweat. The whole
front of his shirt was soaked with blood.
"You're shot!" cried Duane.
"Wal, who 'n hell said I wasn't? Would you mind givin' me a
lift--on this here pack?"
Duane lifted the heavy pack down and then helped Stevens to
dismount. The outlaw had a bloody foam on his lips, and he was
spitting blood.
"Oh, why didn't you say so!" cried Duane. "I never thought. You
seemed all right."
"Wal, Luke Stevens may be as gabby as an old woman, but
sometimes he doesn't say anythin'. It wouldn't have done no
good."
Duane bade him sit down, removed his shirt, and washed the
blood from his breast and back. Stevens had been shot in the
breast, fairly low down, and the bullet had gone clear through
him. His ride, holding himself and that heavy pack in the
saddle, had been a feat little short of marvelous. Duane did
not see how it had been possible, and he felt no hope for the
outlaw. But he plugged the wounds and bound them tightly.
"Feller's name was Brown," Stevens said. "Me an' him fell out
over a hoss I stole from him over in Huntsville. We had a
shootin'-scrape then. Wal, as I was straddlin' my hoss back
there in Mercer I seen this Brown, an' seen him before he seen
me. Could have killed him, too. But I wasn't breakin' my word
to you. I kind of hoped he wouldn't spot me. But he did--an'
fust shot he got me here. What do you think of this hole?"
"It's pretty bad," replied Duane; and he could not look the
cheerfuloutlaw in the eyes.
"I reckon it is. Wal, I've had some bad wounds I lived over.
Guess mebbe I can stand this one. Now, Buck, get me some place
in the brakes, leave me some grub an' water at my hand, an'
then you clear out."
"Leave you here alone?" asked Duane, sharply.
"Shore. You see, I can't keep up with you. Brown an' his
friends will foller us across the river a ways. You've got to
think of number one in this game."
"What would you do in my case?" asked Duane, curiously.
"Wal, I reckon I'd clear out an' save my hide," replied
Stevens.
Duane felt inclined to doubt the outlaw's assertion. For his
own part he decided his conduct without further speech. First
he watered the horses, filled canteens and water bag, and then
tied the pack upon his own horse. That done, he lifted Stevens
upon his horse, and, holding him in the saddle, turned into the
brakes, being careful to pick out hard or grassy ground that
left little signs of tracks. Just about dark he ran across a
trail that Stevens said was a good one to take into the wild
country.
"Reckon we'd better keep right on in the dark--till I drop,"
concluded Stevens, with a laugh.
All that night Duane, gloomy and thoughtful, attentive to the
wounded outlaw, walked the trail and never halted till
daybreak. He was tired then and very hungry. Stevens seemed in
bad shape, although he was still spirited and cheerful. Duane
made camp. The outlaw refused food, but asked for both whisky
and water. Then he stretched out.
"Buck, will you take off my boots?" he asked, with a faint
smile on his pallid face.
Duane removed them, wondering if the outlaw had the thought
that he did not want to die with his boots on. Stevens seemed
to read his mind.
"Buck, my old daddy used to say thet I was born to be hanged.
But I wasn't--an' dyin' with your boots on is the next wust way
to croak."
"You've a chance to-to get over this," said Duane.
"Shore. But I want to be correct about the boots--an' say,
pard, if I do go over, jest you remember thet I was
appreciatin' of your kindness."
Then he closed his eyes and seemed to sleep.
Duane could not find water for the horses, but there was an
abundance of dew-wet grass upon which he hobbled them. After
that was done he prepared himself a much-needed meal. The sun
was getting warm when he lay down to sleep, and when he awoke
- swiftly [´swiftli]
ad.迅速地，敏捷地 (初中英语单词) - reckon [´rekən] v.计算；认为；估计 (初中英语单词)
- barren [´bærən] a.贫瘠的；不生育的 (初中英语单词)
- rustle [´rʌsl] v.&n.(使)沙沙作响 (初中英语单词)
- evidently [´evidəntli] ad.明显地 (初中英语单词)
- welcome [´welkəm] a.受欢迎的；可喜的 (初中英语单词)
- cluster [´klʌstə] n.一串 v.群集；丛生 (初中英语单词)
- sincere [sin´siə] a.真挚的；直率的 (初中英语单词)
- companion [kəm´pæniən] n.同伴；同事；伴侣 (初中英语单词)
- distinction [di´stiŋkʃən] n.差别；特征；卓越 (初中英语单词)
- sunset [´sʌnset] n.日落；晚霞 (初中英语单词)
- saddle [´sædl] n.鞍子 v.装鞍(于) (初中英语单词)
- steadily [´stedili] ad.坚定地；不断地 (初中英语单词)
- conviction [kən´vikʃən] n.定罪；确信，信服 (初中英语单词)
- constantly [´kɔnstəntli] ad.经常地；不断地 (初中英语单词)
- willow [´wiləu] n.柳树 (初中英语单词)
- bloody [´blʌdi] a.(流)血的；血腥的 (初中英语单词)
- bullet [´bulit] n.子弹 (初中英语单词)
- marvelous [´mɑ:viləs] (=marvellous) a.奇异的 (初中英语单词)
- attentive [ə´tentiv] a.注意的；殷勤的 (初中英语单词)
- cheerful [´tʃiəful] a.快乐的；高兴的 (初中英语单词)
- doubtful [´dautful] a.怀疑的，可疑的 (高中英语单词)
- compliment [´kɔmplimənt] n.敬意 vt.赞美；祝贺 (高中英语单词)
- openly [´əupənli] ad.公开地；直率地 (高中英语单词)
- gamble [´gæmbəl] v.&n.赌博；投机；冒险 (高中英语单词)
- saying [´seiŋ, ´sei-iŋ] n.言语；言论；格言 (高中英语单词)
- significant [sig´nifikənt] a.重要的；意义重大的 (高中英语单词)
- meager [´mi:gə] a.瘦的；贫弱的 (高中英语单词)
- clatter [´klætə] n.&v.喧嚷；骚动 (高中英语单词)
- apparently [ə´pærəntli] ad.显然，表面上地 (高中英语单词)
- admirable [´ædmərəbəl] a.极佳的，值得赞美的 (高中英语单词)
- stride [straid] n.进展 v.跨过；骑 (高中英语单词)
- decided [di´saidid] a.明显的；决定的 (高中英语单词)
- gloomy [´glu:mi] a.昏暗的；忧郁的 (高中英语单词)
- thoughtful [´θɔ:tfəl] a.深思的；体贴的 (高中英语单词)
- outlaw [´autlɔ:] n.歹徒 vt.将...放逐 (英语四级单词)
- traveled [´trævəld] a.见面广的；旅客多的 (英语四级单词)
- modesty [´mɔdisti] n.谨慎；端庄；羞怯 (英语四级单词)
- reputation [repju´teiʃən] n.名誉；名声；信誉 (英语四级单词)
- heritage [´heritidʒ] n.遗产，继承物 (英语四级单词)
- accomplished [ə´kʌmpliʃt] a.完成了的；熟练的 (英语四级单词)
- exclamation [,eksklə´meiʃən] n.喊(惊)叫；感叹词 (英语四级单词)
- assertion [ə´sə:ʃən] n.断言；主张；论述 (英语四级单词)
- grassy [´grɑ:si] a.多草的；青草味的 (英语四级单词)
- inviting [in´vaitiŋ] a.动人的 (英语六级单词)
- talker [´tɔ:kə] n.说话人；空谈家 (英语六级单词)
- downright [´daunrait] a.直率的 ad.彻底 (英语六级单词)
- alfalfa [æl´fælfə] n.苜蓿 (英语六级单词)
- holding [´həuldiŋ] n.保持，固定，存储 (英语六级单词)
文章标签:名著
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