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Lin McLean-Part18_Owen Wister(1860-1938)_English Literature(文学名著)-第2页

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waiting to go to the penitentiary for five years. And even this wild



border community that hated law courts and punishments had not been

sorry, for he had cheated his friends too often, and the wide charity of



the sage-brush does not cover that sin. Beneath his pretty looks and

daring skill with horses they had found vanity and a cold, false heart;



but his sister could not. Here she was, come to find him after lonely

years, and to this one soul that loved him in the world how was I to tell



the desolation and the disgrace? I was glad to hear her ask me if the

stage went soon after supper.



"Now isn't that a bother?" said she, when I answered that it did not

start till morning. She glanced with rueful gayety at the hotel. "Never



mind," she continued, briskly; "I'm used to things. I'll just sit up

somewhere. Maybe the agent will let me stay in the office. You're sure



all that shooting's only jollification?"

"Certain," I said. "But I'll go and see."



"They always will have their fun," said she. "But I hate to have a poor

boy get hurt--even him deserving it!"



"They use pistols instead of fire-crackers," said I. "But you must never

sleep in that office. I'll see what we can do."



"Why, you're real kind!" she exclaimed, heartily. And I departed,

wondering what I ought to do.



Perhaps I should have told you before that Separ was a place once--a sort

of place; but you will relish now, I am convinced, the pithy fable of its



name.

Midway between two sections of this still unfinished line that, rail



after rail and mile upon mile, crawled over the earth's face visibly

during the constructing hours of each new day, lay a camp. To this point



these unjoined pieces were heading, and here at length they met. Camp

Separation it had been fitly called, but how should the American railway



man afford time to say that? Separation was pretty and apt, but needless;

and with the sloughing of two syllables came the brief, businesslike



result--Separ. Chicago, 1137-1/2 miles. It was labelled on a board large

almost as the hut station. A Y-switch, two sidings, the fat water-tank



and steam-pump, and a section-house with three trees before it composed

the north side. South of the track were no trees. There was one long



siding by the corrals and cattle-chute, there were a hovel where plug

tobacco and canned goods were for sale, a shed where you might get your



horse shod, a wire fence that at shipping times enclosed bales of pressed

hay, the hotel, the stage stable, and the little station--some seven



shanties all told. Between them were spaces of dust, the immediate plains

engulfed them, and through their midst ran the far-vanishing railroad, to



which they hung like beads on a great string from horizon to horizon. A

great east-and-west string, one end in the rosy sun at morning, and one



in the crimson sun at night. Beyond each sky-line lay cities and ports

where the world went on out of sight and hearing. This lone steel thread



had been stretched across the continent because it was the day of haste

and hope, when dollars seemed many and hard times were few; and from the



Yellowstone to the Rio Grande similar threads were stretching, and little

Separs by dispersed hundreds hung on them, as it were in space eternal.



Can you wonder that vigorous young men with pistols should, when they

came to such a place, shoot them off to let loose their unbounded joy of



living?

And yet it was not this merely that began the custom, but an error of the



agent's. The new station was scarce created when one morning Honey Wiggin

with the Virginian had galloped innocently in from the round-up to



telegraph for some additional cars.

"I'm dead on to you!" squealed the official, dropping flat at the sight



of them; and bang went his gun at them. They, most naturally, thought it

was a maniac, and ran for their lives among the supports of the



water-tank, while he remained anchored with his weapon, crouched behind

the railing that fenced him and his apparatus from the laity; and some



fifteen strategic minutes passed before all parties had crawled forth to

an understanding, and the message was written and paid for and



comfortably despatched. The agent was an honest creature, but of tame

habits, sent for the sake of his imperfect lungs to this otherwise



inappropriate air. He had lived chiefly in mid-West towns, a serious

reader of our comic weeklies; hence the apparition of Wiggin and the



Virginian had reminded him sickeningly of bandits. He had express money

in the safe, he explained to them, and this was a hard old country,



wasn't it? and did they like good whiskey?

They drank his whiskey, but it was not well to have mentioned that about



the bandits. Both were aware that when shaved and washed of their

round-up grime they could look very engaging. The two cow-punchers rode



out, not angry, but grieved that a man come here to dwell among them

should be so tactless.



"If we don't get him used to us," observed the Virginian, "he and his




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