章节正文
halted.
"Who goes there?" came the sharp call out of the gloom.
Duane pulled his horse. The gloom was impenetrable.
"One man--alone," replied Duane.
"A stranger?"
"Yes."
"What do you want?"
"I'm trying to find the ranger camp."
"You've struck it. What's your errand?"
"I want to see Captain MacNelly."
"Get down and advance. Slow. Don't move your hands. It's dark,
but I can see."
Duane dismounted, and, leading his horse, slowly advanced a few
paces. He saw a dully bright object--a gun--before he
discovered the man who held it. A few more steps showed a dark
figure blocking the trail. Here Duane halted.
"Come closer, stranger. Let's have a look at you," the guard
ordered, curtly.
Duane advanced again until he stood before the man. Here the
rays of light from the fires flickered upon Duane's face.
"Reckon you're a stranger, all right. What's your name and your
business with the Captain?"
Duane hesitated, pondering what best to say.
"Tell Captain MacNelly I'm the man he's been asking to ride
into his camp--after dark," finally said Duane.
The ranger bent forward to peer hard at this night visitor. His
manner had been alert, and now it became tense.
"Come here, one of you men, quick," he called, without turning
in the least toward the camp-fire.
"Hello! What's up, Pickens?" came the swift reply. It was
followed by a rapid thud of boots on soft ground. A dark form
crossed the gleams from the fire-light. Then a ranger loomed up
to reach the side of the guard. Duane heard whispering, the
purport of which he could not catch. The second ranger swore
under his breath. Then he turned away and started back.
"Here, ranger, before you go, understand this. My visit is
peaceful--friendly if you'll let it be. Mind, I was asked to
come here--after dark."
Duane's clear, penetrating voice carried far. The listening
rangers at the camp-fire heard what he said.
"Ho, Pickens! Tell that fellow to wait," replied an
authoritative voice. Then a slim figure detached itself from
the dark, moving group at the camp-fire and hurried out.
"Better be foxy, Cap," shouted a ranger, in warning.
"Shut up--all of you," was the reply.
This officer, obviously Captain MacNelly, soon joined the two
rangers who were confronting Duane. He had no fear. He strode
straight up to Duane.
"I'm MacNelly," he said. "If you're my man, don't mention your
name--yet."
All this seemed so strange to Duane, in keeping with much that
had happened lately.
"I met Jeff Aiken to-day," said Duane. "He sent me--"
"You've met Aiken!" exclaimed MacNelly, sharp, eager, low. "By
all that's bully!" Then he appeared to catch himself, to grow
restrained.
"Men, fall back, leave us alone a moment."
The rangers slowly withdrew.
"Buck Duane! It's you?" he whispered, eagerly.
"Yes."
"If I give my word you'll not be arrested--you'll be treated
fairly--will you come into camp and consult with me?"
"Certainly."
"Duane, I'm sure glad to meet you," went on MacNelly; and he
extended his hand.
Amazed and touched, scarcely realizing this actuality, Duane
gave his hand and felt no unmistakable grip of warmth.
"It doesn't seem natural, Captain MacNelly, but I believe I'm
glad to meet you," said Duane, soberly.
"You will be. Now we'll go back to camp. Keep your identity mum
for the present."
He led Duane in the direction of the camp-fire.
"Pickers, go back on duty," he ordered, "and, Beeson, you look
after this horse."
When Duane got beyond the line of mesquite, which had hid a
good view of the camp-site, he saw a group of perhaps fifteen
rangers sitting around the fires, near a long low shed where
horses were feeding, and a small adobe house at one side.
"We've just had grub, but I'll see you get some. Then we'll
talk," said MacNelly. "I've taken up temporary quarters here.
Have a rustler job on hand. Now, when you've eaten, come right
into the house."
Duane was hungry, but he hurried through the ample supper that
was set before him, urged on by curiosity and astonishment. The
only way he could account for his presence there in a ranger's
camp was that MacNelly hoped to get useful information out of
him. Still that would hardly have made this captain so eager.
There was a mystery here, and Duane could scarcely wait for it
to be solved. While eating he had bent keen eyes around him.
After a first quiet scrutiny the rangers apparently paid no
more attention to him. They were all veterans in service--Duane
saw that--and rugged, powerful men of iron constitution.
Despite the occasional joke and sally of the more youthful
members, and a general conversation of camp-fire nature, Duane
was not deceived about the fact that his advent had been an
unusual and striking one, which had caused an undercurrent of
conjecture and even consternation among them. These rangers
were too well trained to appear openly curious about their
captain's guest. If they had not deliberately attempted to be
oblivious of his presence Duane would have concluded they
thought him an ordinary visitor, somehow of use to MacNelly. As
it was, Duane felt a suspense that must have been due to a hint
of his identity.
He was not long in presenting himself at the door of the house.
"Come in and have a chair," said MacNelly, motioning for the
one other occupant of the room to rise. "Leave us, Russell, and
close the door. I'll be through these reports right off."
MacNelly sat at a table upon which was a lamp and various
papers. Seen in the light he was a fine-looking, soldierly man
of about forty years, dark-haired and dark-eyed, with a bronzed
face, shrewd, stern, strong, yet not wanting in kindliness. He
scanned hastily over some papers, fussed with them, and finally
put them in envelopes. Without looking up he pushed a cigar-
case toward Duane, and upon Duane's refusal to smoke he took a
cigar, rose to light it at the lamp-chimney, and then, settling
back in his chair, he faced Duane, making a vain attempt to
hide what must have been the fulfilment of a long-nourished
curiosity.
"Duane, I've been hoping for this for two years," be began.
Duane smiled a little--a smile that felt strange on his face.
He had never been much of a talker. And speech here seemed more
than ordinarily difficult.
MacNelly must have felt that.
He looked long and earnestly" target="_blank" title="ad.认真地；急切地">earnestly at Duane, and his quick, nervous
manner changed to grave thoughtfulness.
"I've lots to say, but where to begin," he mused. "Duane,
you've had a hard life since you went on the dodge. I never met
you before, don't know what you looked like as a boy. But I can
see what--well, even ranger life isn't all roses."
He rolled his cigar between his lips and puffed clouds of
smoke.
"Ever hear from home since you left Wellston?" he asked,
abruptly.
"No."
"Never a word?"
"Not one," replied Duane, sadly.
"That's tough. I'm glad to be able to tell you that up to just
lately your mother, sister, uncle--all your folks, I
believe--were well. I've kept posted. But haven't heard
lately."
Duane averted his face a moment, hesitated till the swelling
left his throat, and then said, "It's worth what I went through
to-day to hear that."
"I can imagine how you feel about it. When I was in the war--
but let's get down to the business of this meeting."
He pulled his chair close to Duane's.
"You've had word more than once in the last two years that I
wanted to see you?"
"Three times, I remember," replied Duane.
"Why didn't you hunt me up?"
"I supposed you imagined me one of those gun-fighters who
couldn't take a dare and expected me to ride up to your camp
and be arrested."
"That was natural, I suppose," went on MacNelly. "You didn't
know me, otherwise you would have come. I've been a long time
getting to you. But the nature of my job, as far as you're
concerned, made me cautious. Duane, you're aware of the hard
name you bear all over the Southwest?"
"Once in a while I'm jarred into realizing," replied Duane.
"It's the hardest, barring Murrell and Cheseldine, on the Texas
border. But there's this difference. Murrell in his day was
known to deserve his infamous name. Cheseldine in his day also.
But I've found hundreds of men in southwest Texas who're your
friends, who swear you never committed a crime. The farther
south I get the clearer this becomes. What I want to know is
the truth. Have you ever done anything criminal? Tell me the
truth, Duane. It won't make any difference in my plan. And when
I say crime I mean what I would call crime, or any reasonable
Texan."
"That way my hands are clean," replied Duane.
"You never held up a man, robbed a store for grub, stole a
horse when you needed him bad--never anything like that?"
"Somehow I always kept out of that, just when pressed the
hardest."
"Duane, I'm damn glad!" MacNelly exclaimed, gripping Duane's
hand. "Glad for you mother's sakel But, all the same, in spite
of this, you are a Texas outlawaccountable to the state.
You're perfectly aware that under existing circumstances, if
you fell into the hands of the law, you'd probably hang, at
least go to jail for a long term."
"That's what kept me on the dodge all these years," replied
Duane.
"Certainly." MacNelly removed his cigar. His eyes narrowed and
glittered. The muscles along his brown cheeks set hard and
tense. He leaned closer to Duane, laid sinewy, pressing fingers
upon Duane's knee.
"Listen to this," he whispered, hoarsely. "If I place a pardon
in your hand--make you a free, honest citizen once more, clear
your name of infamy, make your mother, your sister proud of
you--will you swear yourself to a service, ANY service I demand
of you?"
Duane sat stock still, stunned.
Slowly, more persuasively, with show of earnest agitation,
Captain MacNelly reiterated his startling query.
"My God!" burst from Duane. "What's this? MacNelly, you CAN'T
be in earnest!"
"Never more so in my life. I've a deep game. I'm playing it
square. What do you say?"
He rose to his feet. Duane, as if impelled, rose with him.
Ranger and outlaw then locked eyes that searched each other's
souls. In MacNelly's Duane read truth, strong, fiery purpose,
"Who goes there?" came the sharp call out of the gloom.
Duane pulled his horse. The gloom was impenetrable.
"One man--alone," replied Duane.
"A stranger?"
"Yes."
"What do you want?"
"I'm trying to find the ranger camp."
"You've struck it. What's your errand?"
"I want to see Captain MacNelly."
"Get down and advance. Slow. Don't move your hands. It's dark,
but I can see."
Duane dismounted, and, leading his horse, slowly advanced a few
paces. He saw a dully bright object--a gun--before he
discovered the man who held it. A few more steps showed a dark
figure blocking the trail. Here Duane halted.
"Come closer, stranger. Let's have a look at you," the guard
ordered, curtly.
Duane advanced again until he stood before the man. Here the
rays of light from the fires flickered upon Duane's face.
"Reckon you're a stranger, all right. What's your name and your
business with the Captain?"
Duane hesitated, pondering what best to say.
"Tell Captain MacNelly I'm the man he's been asking to ride
into his camp--after dark," finally said Duane.
The ranger bent forward to peer hard at this night visitor. His
manner had been alert, and now it became tense.
"Come here, one of you men, quick," he called, without turning
in the least toward the camp-fire.
"Hello! What's up, Pickens?" came the swift reply. It was
followed by a rapid thud of boots on soft ground. A dark form
crossed the gleams from the fire-light. Then a ranger loomed up
to reach the side of the guard. Duane heard whispering, the
purport of which he could not catch. The second ranger swore
under his breath. Then he turned away and started back.
"Here, ranger, before you go, understand this. My visit is
peaceful--friendly if you'll let it be. Mind, I was asked to
come here--after dark."
Duane's clear, penetrating voice carried far. The listening
rangers at the camp-fire heard what he said.
"Ho, Pickens! Tell that fellow to wait," replied an
authoritative voice. Then a slim figure detached itself from
the dark, moving group at the camp-fire and hurried out.
"Better be foxy, Cap," shouted a ranger, in warning.
"Shut up--all of you," was the reply.
This officer, obviously Captain MacNelly, soon joined the two
rangers who were confronting Duane. He had no fear. He strode
straight up to Duane.
"I'm MacNelly," he said. "If you're my man, don't mention your
name--yet."
All this seemed so strange to Duane, in keeping with much that
had happened lately.
"I met Jeff Aiken to-day," said Duane. "He sent me--"
"You've met Aiken!" exclaimed MacNelly, sharp, eager, low. "By
all that's bully!" Then he appeared to catch himself, to grow
restrained.
"Men, fall back, leave us alone a moment."
The rangers slowly withdrew.
"Buck Duane! It's you?" he whispered, eagerly.
"Yes."
"If I give my word you'll not be arrested--you'll be treated
fairly--will you come into camp and consult with me?"
"Certainly."
"Duane, I'm sure glad to meet you," went on MacNelly; and he
extended his hand.
Amazed and touched, scarcely realizing this actuality, Duane
gave his hand and felt no unmistakable grip of warmth.
"It doesn't seem natural, Captain MacNelly, but I believe I'm
glad to meet you," said Duane, soberly.
"You will be. Now we'll go back to camp. Keep your identity mum
for the present."
He led Duane in the direction of the camp-fire.
"Pickers, go back on duty," he ordered, "and, Beeson, you look
after this horse."
When Duane got beyond the line of mesquite, which had hid a
good view of the camp-site, he saw a group of perhaps fifteen
rangers sitting around the fires, near a long low shed where
horses were feeding, and a small adobe house at one side.
"We've just had grub, but I'll see you get some. Then we'll
talk," said MacNelly. "I've taken up temporary quarters here.
Have a rustler job on hand. Now, when you've eaten, come right
into the house."
Duane was hungry, but he hurried through the ample supper that
was set before him, urged on by curiosity and astonishment. The
only way he could account for his presence there in a ranger's
camp was that MacNelly hoped to get useful information out of
him. Still that would hardly have made this captain so eager.
There was a mystery here, and Duane could scarcely wait for it
to be solved. While eating he had bent keen eyes around him.
After a first quiet scrutiny the rangers apparently paid no
more attention to him. They were all veterans in service--Duane
saw that--and rugged, powerful men of iron constitution.
Despite the occasional joke and sally of the more youthful
members, and a general conversation of camp-fire nature, Duane
was not deceived about the fact that his advent had been an
unusual and striking one, which had caused an undercurrent of
conjecture and even consternation among them. These rangers
were too well trained to appear openly curious about their
captain's guest. If they had not deliberately attempted to be
oblivious of his presence Duane would have concluded they
thought him an ordinary visitor, somehow of use to MacNelly. As
it was, Duane felt a suspense that must have been due to a hint
of his identity.
He was not long in presenting himself at the door of the house.
"Come in and have a chair," said MacNelly, motioning for the
one other occupant of the room to rise. "Leave us, Russell, and
close the door. I'll be through these reports right off."
MacNelly sat at a table upon which was a lamp and various
papers. Seen in the light he was a fine-looking, soldierly man
of about forty years, dark-haired and dark-eyed, with a bronzed
face, shrewd, stern, strong, yet not wanting in kindliness. He
scanned hastily over some papers, fussed with them, and finally
put them in envelopes. Without looking up he pushed a cigar-
case toward Duane, and upon Duane's refusal to smoke he took a
cigar, rose to light it at the lamp-chimney, and then, settling
back in his chair, he faced Duane, making a vain attempt to
hide what must have been the fulfilment of a long-nourished
curiosity.
"Duane, I've been hoping for this for two years," be began.
Duane smiled a little--a smile that felt strange on his face.
He had never been much of a talker. And speech here seemed more
than ordinarily difficult.
MacNelly must have felt that.
He looked long and earnestly" target="_blank" title="ad.认真地；急切地">earnestly at Duane, and his quick, nervous
manner changed to grave thoughtfulness.
"I've lots to say, but where to begin," he mused. "Duane,
you've had a hard life since you went on the dodge. I never met
you before, don't know what you looked like as a boy. But I can
see what--well, even ranger life isn't all roses."
He rolled his cigar between his lips and puffed clouds of
smoke.
"Ever hear from home since you left Wellston?" he asked,
abruptly.
"No."
"Never a word?"
"Not one," replied Duane, sadly.
"That's tough. I'm glad to be able to tell you that up to just
lately your mother, sister, uncle--all your folks, I
believe--were well. I've kept posted. But haven't heard
lately."
Duane averted his face a moment, hesitated till the swelling
left his throat, and then said, "It's worth what I went through
to-day to hear that."
"I can imagine how you feel about it. When I was in the war--
but let's get down to the business of this meeting."
He pulled his chair close to Duane's.
"You've had word more than once in the last two years that I
wanted to see you?"
"Three times, I remember," replied Duane.
"Why didn't you hunt me up?"
"I supposed you imagined me one of those gun-fighters who
couldn't take a dare and expected me to ride up to your camp
and be arrested."
"That was natural, I suppose," went on MacNelly. "You didn't
know me, otherwise you would have come. I've been a long time
getting to you. But the nature of my job, as far as you're
concerned, made me cautious. Duane, you're aware of the hard
name you bear all over the Southwest?"
"Once in a while I'm jarred into realizing," replied Duane.
"It's the hardest, barring Murrell and Cheseldine, on the Texas
border. But there's this difference. Murrell in his day was
known to deserve his infamous name. Cheseldine in his day also.
But I've found hundreds of men in southwest Texas who're your
friends, who swear you never committed a crime. The farther
south I get the clearer this becomes. What I want to know is
the truth. Have you ever done anything criminal? Tell me the
truth, Duane. It won't make any difference in my plan. And when
I say crime I mean what I would call crime, or any reasonable
Texan."
"That way my hands are clean," replied Duane.
"You never held up a man, robbed a store for grub, stole a
horse when you needed him bad--never anything like that?"
"Somehow I always kept out of that, just when pressed the
hardest."
"Duane, I'm damn glad!" MacNelly exclaimed, gripping Duane's
hand. "Glad for you mother's sakel But, all the same, in spite
of this, you are a Texas outlawaccountable to the state.
You're perfectly aware that under existing circumstances, if
you fell into the hands of the law, you'd probably hang, at
least go to jail for a long term."
"That's what kept me on the dodge all these years," replied
Duane.
"Certainly." MacNelly removed his cigar. His eyes narrowed and
glittered. The muscles along his brown cheeks set hard and
tense. He leaned closer to Duane, laid sinewy, pressing fingers
upon Duane's knee.
"Listen to this," he whispered, hoarsely. "If I place a pardon
in your hand--make you a free, honest citizen once more, clear
your name of infamy, make your mother, your sister proud of
you--will you swear yourself to a service, ANY service I demand
of you?"
Duane sat stock still, stunned.
Slowly, more persuasively, with show of earnest agitation,
Captain MacNelly reiterated his startling query.
"My God!" burst from Duane. "What's this? MacNelly, you CAN'T
be in earnest!"
"Never more so in my life. I've a deep game. I'm playing it
square. What do you say?"
He rose to his feet. Duane, as if impelled, rose with him.
Ranger and outlaw then locked eyes that searched each other's
souls. In MacNelly's Duane read truth, strong, fiery purpose,
- advanced [əd´vɑ:nst]
a.先进的；高级的 (初中英语单词) - visitor [´vizitə] n.访问者；来宾；参观者 (初中英语单词)
- breath [breθ] n.呼吸；气息 (初中英语单词)
- obviously [´ɔbviəsli] ad.明显地；显而易见地 (初中英语单词)
- consult [kən´sʌlt] v.商量；磋商；请教 (初中英语单词)
- curiosity [,kjuəri´ɔsiti] n.好奇；奇事；珍品 (初中英语单词)
- astonishment [ə´stɔniʃmənt] n.吃惊；惊异 (初中英语单词)
- account [ə´kaunt] vi.说明 vt.认为 n.帐目 (初中英语单词)
- mystery [´mistəri] n.神秘；秘密；故弄玄虚 (初中英语单词)
- occasional [ə´keiʒənəl] a.偶然的；临时的 (初中英语单词)
- striking [´straikiŋ] a.显著的，明显的 (初中英语单词)
- hastily [´heistili] ad.急速地；草率地 (初中英语单词)
- throat [θrəut] n.咽喉；嗓子；出入口 (初中英语单词)
- supposed [sə´pəuzd] a.想象的；假定的 (初中英语单词)
- otherwise [´ʌðəwaiz] ad.另外 conj.否则 (初中英语单词)
- deserve [di´zə:v] v.应受；值得 (初中英语单词)
- criminal [´kriminəl] a.犯罪的 n.罪犯 (初中英语单词)
- earnest [´ə:nist] a.认真的 n.认真；诚恳 (初中英语单词)
- hurried [´hʌrid] a.仓促的，慌忙的 (高中英语单词)
- temporary [´tempərəri] a.暂时的 n.临时工 (高中英语单词)
- apparently [ə´pærəntli] ad.显然，表面上地 (高中英语单词)
- rugged [´rʌgid] a.不平的；粗犷的 (高中英语单词)
- openly [´əupənli] ad.公开地；直率地 (高中英语单词)
- deliberately [di´libərətli] ad.故意地；慎重地 (高中英语单词)
- shrewd [ʃru:d] a.精明的；狡猾的 (高中英语单词)
- refusal [ri´fju:zəl] n.拒绝；优先取舍权 (高中英语单词)
- ordinarily [´ɔ:dinərili] ad.平常地；普通地 (高中英语单词)
- earnestly [´ə:nistli] ad.认真地；急切地 (高中英语单词)
- southwest [,sauθ´west] n.&a.西南(方)(的) (高中英语单词)
- perfectly [´pə:fiktli] ad.理想地；完美地 (高中英语单词)
- startling [´stɑ:tliŋ] a.惊人的 (高中英语单词)
- trying [´traiiŋ] a.难堪的；费劲的 (英语四级单词)
- advent [´ædvent] n.来临；降临 (英语四级单词)
- occupant [´ɔkjupənt] n.居住者；占有人 (英语四级单词)
- cautious [´kɔ:ʃəs] a.小心的；谨慎的 (英语四级单词)
- outlaw [´autlɔ:] n.歹徒 vt.将...放逐 (英语四级单词)
- unmistakable [,ʌnmi´steikəbəl] a.明显的；错不了的 (英语六级单词)
- identity [ai´dentiti] n.身份；同一性；一致 (英语六级单词)
- consternation [,kɔnstə´neiʃən] n.惊愕；惊恐；惊慌失措 (英语六级单词)
- suspense [sə´spens] n.悬挂；悬虑不安 (英语六级单词)
- wanting [´wɔntiŋ, wɑ:n-] a.短缺的；不足的 (英语六级单词)
- fulfilment [ful´filmənt] n.完成，成就 (英语六级单词)
- talker [´tɔ:kə] n.说话人；空谈家 (英语六级单词)
- infamous [´infəməs] a.声名狼藉的 (英语六级单词)
- hoarsely [´hɔ:sli] ad.嘶哑地 (英语六级单词)
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章节正文
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