章节正文
the cry of a woman in pain.
Duane stepped into the open door, inside the room. Kate Bland
lay half across a table where she had been flung, and she was
trying to get to her feet. Bland's back was turned. He had
opened the door into Jennie's room and had one foot across the
threshold. Duane caught the girl's low, shuddering cry. Then he
called out loud and clear.
With cat-like swiftness Bland wheeled, then froze on the
threshold. His sight, quick as his action, caught Duane's
menacing unmistakable position.
Bland's big frame filled the door. He was in a bad place to
reach for his gun. But he would not have time for a step. Duane
read in his eyes the desperatecalculation of chances. For a
fleeting instant Bland shifted his glance to his wife. Then his
whole body seemed to vibrate with the swing of his arm.
Duane shot him. He fell forward, his gun exploding as it hit
into the floor, and dropped loose from stretching fingers.
Duane stood over him, stooped to turn him on his back. Bland
looked up with clouded gaze, then gasped his last.
"Duane, you've killed him!" cried Kate Bland, huskily. "I knew
you'd have to!"
She staggered against the wall, her eyes dilating, her strong
hands clenching, her face slowly whitening. She appeared
shocked, half stunned, but showed no grief.
"Jennie!" called Duane, sharply.
"Oh--Duane!" came a halting reply.
"Yes. Come out. Hurry!"
She came out with uneven steps, seeing only him, and she
stumbled over Bland's body. Duane caught her arm, swung her
behind him. He feared the woman when she realized how she had
been duped. His action was protective, and his movement toward
the door equally as significant.
"Duane," cried Mrs. Bland.
It was no time for talk. Duane edged on, keeping Jennie behind
him. At that moment there was a pounding of iron-shod hoofs out
in the lane. Kate Bland bounded to the door. When she turned
back her amazement was changing to realization.
"Where 're you taking Jen?" she cried, her voice like a man's.
"Get out of my way," replied Duane. His look perhaps, without
speech, was enough for her. In an instant she was transformed
into a fury.
"You hound! All the time you were fooling me! You made love to
me! You let me believe--you swore you loved me! Now I see what
was queer about you. All for that girl! But you can't have her.
You'll never leave here alive. Give me that girl! Let me--get
at her! She'll never win any more men in this camp."
She was a powerful woman, and it took all Duane's strength to
ward off her onslaughts. She clawed at Jennie over his upheld
arm. Every second her fury increased.
"HELP! HELP! HELP!" she shrieked, in a voice that must have
penetrated to the remotest cabin in the valley.
"Let go! Let go!" cried Duane, low and sharp. He still held his
gun in his right hand, and it began to be hard for him to ward
the woman off. His coolness had gone with her shriek for help.
"Let go!" he repeated, and he shoved her fiercely.
Suddenly she snatched a rifle off the wall and backed away, her
strong hands fumbling at the lever. As she jerked it down,
throwing a shell into the chamber and cocking the weapon, Duane
leaped upon her. He struck up the rifle as it went off, the
powder burning his face.
"Jennie, run out! Get on a horse!" he said.
Jennie flashed out of the door.
With an iron grasp Duane held to the rifle-barrel. He had
grasped it with his left hand, and he gave such a pull that he
swung the crazed woman off the floor. But he could not loose
her grip. She was as strong as he.
"Kate! Let go!"
He tried to intimidate her. She did not see his gun thrust in
her face, or reason had given way to such an extent to passion
that she did not care. She cursed. Her husband had used the
same curses, and from her lips they seemed strange, unsexed,
more deadly. Like a tigress she fought him; her face no longer
resembled a woman's. The evil of that outlaw life, the wildness
and rage, the meaning to kill, was even in such a moment
terribly impressed upon Duane.
He heard a cry from outside--a man's cry, hoarse and alarming.
It made him think of loss of time. This demon of a woman might
yet block his plan.
"Let go!" he whispered, and felt his lips stiff. In the
grimness of that instant he relaxed his hold on the
rifle-barrel.
With sudden, redoubled, irresistible strength she wrenched the
rifle down and discharged it. Duane felt a blow--a shock--a
burning agony tearing through his breast. Then in a frenzy he
jerked so powerfully upon the rifle that he threw the woman
against the wall. She fell and seemed stunned.
Duane leaped back, whirled, flew out of the door to the porch.
The sharp cracking of a gun halted him. He saw Jennie holding
to the bridle of his bay horse. Euchre was astride the other,
and he had a Colt leveled, and he was firing down the lane.
Then came a single shot, heavier, and Euchre's ceased. He fell
from the horse.
A swift glance back showed to Duane a man coming down the lane.
Chess Alloway! His gun was smoking. He broke into a run. Then
in an instant he saw Duane, and tried to check his pace as he
swung up his arm. But that slight pause was fatal. Duane shot,
and Alloway was falling when his gun went off. His bullet
whistled close to Duane and thudded into the cabin.
Duane bounded down to the horses. Jennie was trying to hold the
plunging bay. Euchre lay flat on his back, dead, a bullet-hole
in his shirt, his face set hard, and his hands twisted round
gun and bridle.
"Jennie, you've nerve, all right!" cried Duane, as he dragged
down the horse she was holding. "Up with you now! There! Never
mind--long stirrups! Hang on somehow!"
He caught his bridle out of Euchre's clutching grip and leaped
astride. The frightened horses jumped into a run and thundered
down the lane into the road. Duane saw men running from cabins.
He heard shouts. But there were no shots fired. Jennie seemed
able to stay on her horse, but without stirrups she was thrown
about so much that Duane rode closer and reached out to grasp
her arm.
Thus they rode through the valley to the trail that led up
over, the steep and broken Rim Rock. As they began to climb
Duane looked back. No pursuers were in sight.
"Jennie, we're going to get away!" he cried, exultation for her
in his voice.
She was gazing horror-stricken at his breast, as in turning to
look back he faced her.
"Oh, Duane, your shirt's all bloody!" she faltered, pointing
with trembling fingers.
With her words Duane became aware of two things--the hand he
instinctively placed to his breast still held his gun, and he
had sustained a terrible wound.
Duane had been shot through the breast far enough down to give
him grave apprehension of his life. The clean-cut hole made by
the bullet bled freely both at its entrance and where it had
come out, but with no signs of hemorrhage. He did not bleed at
the mouth; however, he began to cough up a reddish-tinged foam.
As they rode on, Jennie, with pale face and mute lips, looked
at him.
"I'm badly hurt, Jennie," he said, "but I guess I'll stick it
out."
"The woman--did she shoot you?"
"Yes. She was a devil. Euchre told me to look out for her. I
wasn't quick enough."
"You didn't have to--to--" shivered the girl.
"No! no!" he replied.
They did not stop climbing while Duane tore a scarf and made
compresses, which he bound tightly over his wounds. The fresh
horses made fast time up the rough trail. From open places
Duane looked down. When they surmounted the steep ascent and
stood on top of the Rim Rock, with no signs of pursuit down in
the valley, and with the wild, broken fastnesses before them,
Duane turned to the girl and assured her that they now had
every chance of escape.
"But--your--wound!" she faltered, with dark, troubled eyes. "I
see--the blood--dripping from your back!"
"Jennie, I'll take a lot of killing," he said.
Then he became silent and attended to the uneven trail. He was
aware presently that he had not come into Bland's camp by this
route. But that did not matter; any trail leading out beyond
the Rim Rock was safe enough. What he wanted was to get far
away into some wild retreat where he could hide till he
recovered from his wound. He seemed to feel a fire inside his
breast, and his throat burned so that it was necessary for him
to take a swallow of water every little while. He began to
suffer considerable pain, which increased as the hours went by
and then gave way to a numbness. From that time on he had need
of his great strength and endurance. Gradually he lost his
steadiness and his keen sight; and he realized that if he were
to meet foes, or if pursuing outlaws should come up with him,
he could make only a poor stand. So he turned off on a trail
that appeared seldom traveled.
Soon after this move he became conscious of a further
thickening of his senses. He felt able to hold on to his saddle
for a while longer, but he was failing. Then he thought he
ought to advise Jennie, so in case she was left alone she would
have some idea of what to do.
"Jennie, I'll give out soon," he said. "No-I don't mean--what
you think. But I'll drop soon. My strength's going. If I
die--you ride back to the main trail. Hide and rest by day.
Ride at night. That trail goes to water. I believe you could
get across the Nueces, where some rancher will take you in."
Duane could not get the meaning of her incoherent reply. He
rode on, and soon he could not see the trail or hear his horse.
He did not know whether they traveled a mile or many times that
far. But he was conscious when the horse stopped, and had a
vague sense of falling and feeling Jennie's arms before all
became dark to him.
When consciousness returned he found himself lying in a little
hut of mesquite branches. It was well built and evidently some
years old. There were two doors or openings, one in front and
the other at the back. Duane imagined it had been built by a
fugitive--one who meant to keep an eye both ways and not to be
surprised. Duane felt weak and had no desire to move. Where was
he, anyway? A strange, intangible sense of time, distance, of
something far behind weighed upon him. Sight of the two packs
Euchre had made brought his thought to Jennie. What had become
of her? There was evidence of her work in a smoldering fire and
a little blackened coffee-pot. Probably she was outside looking
after the horses or getting water. He thought he heard a step
and listened, but he felt tired, and presently his eyes closed
and he fell into a doze.
Awakening from this, he saw Jennie sitting beside him. In some
way she seemed to have changed. When he spoke she gave a start
and turned eagerly to him.
"Duane!" she cried.
"Hello. How're you, Jennie, and how am I?" he said, finding it
a little difficult to talk.
"Oh, I'm all right," she replied. "And you've come to--your
Duane stepped into the open door, inside the room. Kate Bland
lay half across a table where she had been flung, and she was
trying to get to her feet. Bland's back was turned. He had
opened the door into Jennie's room and had one foot across the
threshold. Duane caught the girl's low, shuddering cry. Then he
called out loud and clear.
With cat-like swiftness Bland wheeled, then froze on the
threshold. His sight, quick as his action, caught Duane's
menacing unmistakable position.
Bland's big frame filled the door. He was in a bad place to
reach for his gun. But he would not have time for a step. Duane
read in his eyes the desperatecalculation of chances. For a
fleeting instant Bland shifted his glance to his wife. Then his
whole body seemed to vibrate with the swing of his arm.
Duane shot him. He fell forward, his gun exploding as it hit
into the floor, and dropped loose from stretching fingers.
Duane stood over him, stooped to turn him on his back. Bland
looked up with clouded gaze, then gasped his last.
"Duane, you've killed him!" cried Kate Bland, huskily. "I knew
you'd have to!"
She staggered against the wall, her eyes dilating, her strong
hands clenching, her face slowly whitening. She appeared
shocked, half stunned, but showed no grief.
"Jennie!" called Duane, sharply.
"Oh--Duane!" came a halting reply.
"Yes. Come out. Hurry!"
She came out with uneven steps, seeing only him, and she
stumbled over Bland's body. Duane caught her arm, swung her
behind him. He feared the woman when she realized how she had
been duped. His action was protective, and his movement toward
the door equally as significant.
"Duane," cried Mrs. Bland.
It was no time for talk. Duane edged on, keeping Jennie behind
him. At that moment there was a pounding of iron-shod hoofs out
in the lane. Kate Bland bounded to the door. When she turned
back her amazement was changing to realization.
"Where 're you taking Jen?" she cried, her voice like a man's.
"Get out of my way," replied Duane. His look perhaps, without
speech, was enough for her. In an instant she was transformed
into a fury.
"You hound! All the time you were fooling me! You made love to
me! You let me believe--you swore you loved me! Now I see what
was queer about you. All for that girl! But you can't have her.
You'll never leave here alive. Give me that girl! Let me--get
at her! She'll never win any more men in this camp."
She was a powerful woman, and it took all Duane's strength to
ward off her onslaughts. She clawed at Jennie over his upheld
arm. Every second her fury increased.
"HELP! HELP! HELP!" she shrieked, in a voice that must have
penetrated to the remotest cabin in the valley.
"Let go! Let go!" cried Duane, low and sharp. He still held his
gun in his right hand, and it began to be hard for him to ward
the woman off. His coolness had gone with her shriek for help.
"Let go!" he repeated, and he shoved her fiercely.
Suddenly she snatched a rifle off the wall and backed away, her
strong hands fumbling at the lever. As she jerked it down,
throwing a shell into the chamber and cocking the weapon, Duane
leaped upon her. He struck up the rifle as it went off, the
powder burning his face.
"Jennie, run out! Get on a horse!" he said.
Jennie flashed out of the door.
With an iron grasp Duane held to the rifle-barrel. He had
grasped it with his left hand, and he gave such a pull that he
swung the crazed woman off the floor. But he could not loose
her grip. She was as strong as he.
"Kate! Let go!"
He tried to intimidate her. She did not see his gun thrust in
her face, or reason had given way to such an extent to passion
that she did not care. She cursed. Her husband had used the
same curses, and from her lips they seemed strange, unsexed,
more deadly. Like a tigress she fought him; her face no longer
resembled a woman's. The evil of that outlaw life, the wildness
and rage, the meaning to kill, was even in such a moment
terribly impressed upon Duane.
He heard a cry from outside--a man's cry, hoarse and alarming.
It made him think of loss of time. This demon of a woman might
yet block his plan.
"Let go!" he whispered, and felt his lips stiff. In the
grimness of that instant he relaxed his hold on the
rifle-barrel.
With sudden, redoubled, irresistible strength she wrenched the
rifle down and discharged it. Duane felt a blow--a shock--a
burning agony tearing through his breast. Then in a frenzy he
jerked so powerfully upon the rifle that he threw the woman
against the wall. She fell and seemed stunned.
Duane leaped back, whirled, flew out of the door to the porch.
The sharp cracking of a gun halted him. He saw Jennie holding
to the bridle of his bay horse. Euchre was astride the other,
and he had a Colt leveled, and he was firing down the lane.
Then came a single shot, heavier, and Euchre's ceased. He fell
from the horse.
A swift glance back showed to Duane a man coming down the lane.
Chess Alloway! His gun was smoking. He broke into a run. Then
in an instant he saw Duane, and tried to check his pace as he
swung up his arm. But that slight pause was fatal. Duane shot,
and Alloway was falling when his gun went off. His bullet
whistled close to Duane and thudded into the cabin.
Duane bounded down to the horses. Jennie was trying to hold the
plunging bay. Euchre lay flat on his back, dead, a bullet-hole
in his shirt, his face set hard, and his hands twisted round
gun and bridle.
"Jennie, you've nerve, all right!" cried Duane, as he dragged
down the horse she was holding. "Up with you now! There! Never
mind--long stirrups! Hang on somehow!"
He caught his bridle out of Euchre's clutching grip and leaped
astride. The frightened horses jumped into a run and thundered
down the lane into the road. Duane saw men running from cabins.
He heard shouts. But there were no shots fired. Jennie seemed
able to stay on her horse, but without stirrups she was thrown
about so much that Duane rode closer and reached out to grasp
her arm.
Thus they rode through the valley to the trail that led up
over, the steep and broken Rim Rock. As they began to climb
Duane looked back. No pursuers were in sight.
"Jennie, we're going to get away!" he cried, exultation for her
in his voice.
She was gazing horror-stricken at his breast, as in turning to
look back he faced her.
"Oh, Duane, your shirt's all bloody!" she faltered, pointing
with trembling fingers.
With her words Duane became aware of two things--the hand he
instinctively placed to his breast still held his gun, and he
had sustained a terrible wound.
Duane had been shot through the breast far enough down to give
him grave apprehension of his life. The clean-cut hole made by
the bullet bled freely both at its entrance and where it had
come out, but with no signs of hemorrhage. He did not bleed at
the mouth; however, he began to cough up a reddish-tinged foam.
As they rode on, Jennie, with pale face and mute lips, looked
at him.
"I'm badly hurt, Jennie," he said, "but I guess I'll stick it
out."
"The woman--did she shoot you?"
"Yes. She was a devil. Euchre told me to look out for her. I
wasn't quick enough."
"You didn't have to--to--" shivered the girl.
"No! no!" he replied.
They did not stop climbing while Duane tore a scarf and made
compresses, which he bound tightly over his wounds. The fresh
horses made fast time up the rough trail. From open places
Duane looked down. When they surmounted the steep ascent and
stood on top of the Rim Rock, with no signs of pursuit down in
the valley, and with the wild, broken fastnesses before them,
Duane turned to the girl and assured her that they now had
every chance of escape.
"But--your--wound!" she faltered, with dark, troubled eyes. "I
see--the blood--dripping from your back!"
"Jennie, I'll take a lot of killing," he said.
Then he became silent and attended to the uneven trail. He was
aware presently that he had not come into Bland's camp by this
route. But that did not matter; any trail leading out beyond
the Rim Rock was safe enough. What he wanted was to get far
away into some wild retreat where he could hide till he
recovered from his wound. He seemed to feel a fire inside his
breast, and his throat burned so that it was necessary for him
to take a swallow of water every little while. He began to
suffer considerable pain, which increased as the hours went by
and then gave way to a numbness. From that time on he had need
of his great strength and endurance. Gradually he lost his
steadiness and his keen sight; and he realized that if he were
to meet foes, or if pursuing outlaws should come up with him,
he could make only a poor stand. So he turned off on a trail
that appeared seldom traveled.
Soon after this move he became conscious of a further
thickening of his senses. He felt able to hold on to his saddle
for a while longer, but he was failing. Then he thought he
ought to advise Jennie, so in case she was left alone she would
have some idea of what to do.
"Jennie, I'll give out soon," he said. "No-I don't mean--what
you think. But I'll drop soon. My strength's going. If I
die--you ride back to the main trail. Hide and rest by day.
Ride at night. That trail goes to water. I believe you could
get across the Nueces, where some rancher will take you in."
Duane could not get the meaning of her incoherent reply. He
rode on, and soon he could not see the trail or hear his horse.
He did not know whether they traveled a mile or many times that
far. But he was conscious when the horse stopped, and had a
vague sense of falling and feeling Jennie's arms before all
became dark to him.
When consciousness returned he found himself lying in a little
hut of mesquite branches. It was well built and evidently some
years old. There were two doors or openings, one in front and
the other at the back. Duane imagined it had been built by a
fugitive--one who meant to keep an eye both ways and not to be
surprised. Duane felt weak and had no desire to move. Where was
he, anyway? A strange, intangible sense of time, distance, of
something far behind weighed upon him. Sight of the two packs
Euchre had made brought his thought to Jennie. What had become
of her? There was evidence of her work in a smoldering fire and
a little blackened coffee-pot. Probably she was outside looking
after the horses or getting water. He thought he heard a step
and listened, but he felt tired, and presently his eyes closed
and he fell into a doze.
Awakening from this, he saw Jennie sitting beside him. In some
way she seemed to have changed. When he spoke she gave a start
and turned eagerly to him.
"Duane!" she cried.
"Hello. How're you, Jennie, and how am I?" he said, finding it
a little difficult to talk.
"Oh, I'm all right," she replied. "And you've come to--your
- desperate [´despərit]
a.拼死的；绝望的 (初中英语单词) - instant [´instənt] a.立即的 n.紧迫；瞬间 (初中英语单词)
- movement [´mu:vmənt] n.活动；运动；动作 (初中英语单词)
- equally [´i:kwəli] ad.相等地；平等地 (初中英语单词)
- amazement [ə´meizmənt] n.惊愕；惊奇 (初中英语单词)
- shriek [ʃri:k] v.&n.尖叫(声) (初中英语单词)
- weapon [´wepən] n.武器；斗争手段 (初中英语单词)
- thrust [θrʌst] v.&n.猛推；冲；刺；挤进 (初中英语单词)
- extent [ik´stent] n.长度；程度；范围 (初中英语单词)
- deadly [´dedli] a.致命的 ad.死一般地 (初中英语单词)
- running [´rʌniŋ] a.奔跑的；流动的 (初中英语单词)
- valley [´væli] n.谷；河谷；流域 (初中英语单词)
- bullet [´bulit] n.子弹 (初中英语单词)
- freely [´fri:li] ad.自由地；慷慨地 (初中英语单词)
- pursuit [pə´sju:t] n.追踪；追击；事务 (初中英语单词)
- presently [´prezəntli] ad.不久；目前 (初中英语单词)
- retreat [ri´tri:t] v.&n.退却；撤退；放弃 (初中英语单词)
- throat [θrəut] n.咽喉；嗓子；出入口 (初中英语单词)
- swallow [swɔləu] n.燕子 v.吞，咽；淹没 (初中英语单词)
- considerable [kən´sidərəbəl] a.重要的；值得重视 (初中英语单词)
- conscious [´kɔnʃəs] a.意识的；自觉的 (初中英语单词)
- advise [əd´vaiz] vt.忠告；建议；通知 (初中英语单词)
- evidently [´evidəntli] ad.明显地 (初中英语单词)
- eagerly [´i:gəli] ad.渴望地，急切地 (初中英语单词)
- seeing [si:iŋ] see的现在分词 n.视觉 (高中英语单词)
- repeated [ri´pi:tid] a.反复的；重复的 (高中英语单词)
- chamber [´tʃeimbə] n.房间；议院；会议室 (高中英语单词)
- bridle [´braidl] n.(马)笼头；束缚 (高中英语单词)
- apprehension [,æpri´henʃən] n.理解；忧虑；逮捕 (高中英语单词)
- tightly [´taitli] ad.紧，紧密地 (高中英语单词)
- ascent [ə´sent] n.上升；攀登；上坡路 (高中英语单词)
- endurance [in´djuərəns] n.忍受(耐)；耐力 (高中英语单词)
- consciousness [´kɔnʃəsnis] n.意识；觉悟；知觉 (高中英语单词)
- finding [´faindiŋ] n.发现物；判断；结果 (高中英语单词)
- calculation [,kælkju´leiʃən] n.计算；考虑，预料 (英语四级单词)
- vibrate [´vaibreit, vai´breit] v.(使)振动；发抖 (英语四级单词)
- uneven [ʌn´i:vən] a.崎岖的；不匀的 (英语四级单词)
- protective [prə´tektiv] a.防护的；保护贸易的 (英语四级单词)
- outlaw [´autlɔ:] n.歹徒 vt.将...放逐 (英语四级单词)
- hoarse [hɔ:s] a.嘶哑的；嗓门粗哑的 (英语四级单词)
- irresistible [,iri´zistəbəl] a.不可抵抗的 (英语四级单词)
- frenzy [´frenzi] n.&vt.(使)狂乱 (英语四级单词)
- trying [´traiiŋ] a.难堪的；费劲的 (英语四级单词)
- traveled [´trævəld] a.见面广的；旅客多的 (英语四级单词)
- swiftness [´swiftnis] n.迅速，敏捷 (英语六级单词)
- unmistakable [,ʌnmi´steikəbəl] a.明显的；错不了的 (英语六级单词)
- taking [´teikiŋ] a.迷人的 n.捕获物 (英语六级单词)
- coolness [´ku:lnis] n.凉，凉爽；冷静 (英语六级单词)
- holding [´həuldiŋ] n.保持，固定，存储 (英语六级单词)
- exultation [egzʌl´teiʃən] n.欢腾，狂欢 (英语六级单词)
- assured [ə´ʃuəd] a.确实的 n.被保险人 (英语六级单词)
- numbness [´nʌmnis] n.麻木；愚蠢 (英语六级单词)
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