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Lin McLean-Part14_Owen Wister(1860-1938)_English Literature(文学名著)-第2页

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walked jauntily out into the world with legs of equal length after all



and in his stride the slightest halt possible. And Doctor Barker had

missed the child's conversation. To-day his mustache was a perfected



thing, and he in the late end of his twenties.

"He'll wake up about noon to-morrow in a dive, without a cent," said



Barker. "Then he'll come back on a freight and begin over again."

At the Denver station Lin McLean passed through the shoutings and



omnibuses, and came to the beginning of Seventeenth Street, where is the

first saloon. A customer was ordering Hot Scotch; and because he liked



the smell and had not thought of the mixture for a number of years, Lin

took Hot Scotch. Coming out upon the pavement, he looked across and saw a



saloon opposite with brighter globes and windows more prosperous. That

should have been his choice; lemon peel would undoubtedly be fresher over



there; and over he went at once, to begin the whole thing properly. In

such frozen weather no drink could be more timely, and he sat, to enjoy



without haste its mellowfitness. Once again on the pavement, he looked

along the street toward up-town beneath the crisp, cold electric lights,



and three little bootblacks gathered where he stood and cried "Shine?

Shine?" at him. Remembering that you took the third turn to the right to



get the best dinner in Denver, Lin hit on the skilful plan of stopping at

all Hot Scotches between; but the next occurred within a few yards, and



it was across the street. This one being attained and appreciated, he

found that he must cross back again or skip number four. At this rate he



would not be dining in time to see much of the theatre, and he stopped to

consider. It was a German place he had just quitted, and a huge light



poured out on him from its window, which the proprietor's father-land

sentiment had made into a show. Lights shone among a well-set pine



forest, where beery, jovial gnomes sat on roots and reached upward to

Santa Claus; he, grinning, fat, and Teutonic, held in his right hand



forever a foaming glass, and forever in his left a string of sausages

that dangled down among the gnomes. With his American back to this, the



cow-puncher, wearing the same serious, absent face he had not changed

since he ran away from himself at Cheyenne, considered carefully the Hot



Scotch question, and which side of the road to take and stick to, while

the little bootblacks found him once more and cried, "Shine? Shine?"



monotonous as snow-birds. He settled to stay over here with the

south-side Scotches, and the little one-note song reaching his attention,



he suddenly shoved his foot at the nearest boy, who lightlysprang away.

"Dare you to touch him!" piped a snow-bird, dangerously. They were in



short trousers, and the eldest enemy, it may be, was ten.

"Don't hit me," said Mr. McLean "I'm innocent."



"Well, you leave him be," said one.

"What's he layin' to kick you for, Billy? 'Tain't yer pop, is it?"



"New!" said Billy, in scorn. "Father never kicked me. Don't know who he

is."



"He's a special!" shrilled the leading bird, sensationally. "He's got a

badge, and he's goin' to arrest yer."



Two of them hopped instantly to the safe middle of the street, and

scattered with practicedstrategy; but Billy stood his ground. "Dare you



to arrest me!" said he.

"What'll you give me not to?" inquired Lin, and he put his hands in his



pockets, arms akimbo.

"Nothing; I've done nothing," announced Billy, firmly. But even in the



last syllable his voice suddenly failed, a terror filled his eyes, and

he, too, sped into the middle of the street.



"What's he claim you lifted?" inquired the leader, with eagerness. "Tell

him you haven't been inside a store to-day. We can prove it!" they



screamed to the special officer.

"Say," said the slow-spoken Lin from the pavement, "you're poor judges of



a badge, you fellows."

His tone pleased them where they stood, wide apart from each other.



Mr. McLean also remained stationary in the bluish illumination of the

window. "Why, if any policeman was caught wearin' this here," said he,



following his sprightlyinvention, "he'd get arrested himself."

This struck them extremely. They began to draw together, Billy lingering



the last.




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