酷兔英语

章节正文
文章总共2页


newspapers and them gun rags! The place is like a cow-yard. Why

in the name of heaven don't you clean up here!"



"Allee light," babbled Sang; "I clean him."

The papers and gun rags had lain there unnoticed for nearly a



year. Senor Johnson kicked them savagely.

"It's time we took a brace here," he growled, "we're livin' like



a lot of Oilers."[5]

[5] Oilers: Greasers--Mexicans



CHAPTER THREE

THE PAPER A YEAR OLD



Sang hurried out for a broom. Senor Johnson sat where he was,

his heavy, square brows knit. Suddenly he stooped, seized one of



the newspapers, drew near the lamp, and began to read.

It was a Kansas City paper and, by a strange coincidence, was



dated exactly a year before. The sheet Senor Johnson happened to

pick up was one usually passed over by the average newspaper



reader. It contained only columns of little two- and three-line

advertisements classified as Help Wanted, Situations Wanted, Lost



and Found, and Personal. The latter items Senor Johnson

commenced to read while awaiting Sang and the broom.



The notices were five in number. The first three were of the

mysterious newspaper-correspondence type, in which Birdie



beseeches Jack to meet her at the fountain; the fourth advertised

a clairvoyant. Over the fifth Senor Johnson paused long. It



reads

"WANTED.-By an intelligent and refined lady of pleasing



appearance, correspondence with a gentleman of means. Object

matrimony.



Just then Sang returned with the broom and began noisily to sweep

together the debris. The rustling of papers aroused Senor



Johnson from his reverie. At once he exploded.

"Get out of here, you debased Mongolian," he shouted; "can't you



see I'm reading?"

Sang fled, sorely puzzled, for the Senor was calm and unexcited



and aloof in his everyday habit.

Soon Jed Parker, tall, wiry, hawk-nosed, deliberate, came into



the room and flung his broad hat and spurs into the corner. Then

he proceeded to light his pipe and threw the burned match on the



floor.

"Been over to look at the Grant Pass range," he announced



cheerfully. "She's no good. Drier than cork legs. Th' country

wouldn't support three horned toads."



"Jed," quoth the Senor solemnly, "I wisht you'd hang up your hat

like I have. It don't look good there on the floor."



"Why, sure," agreed Jed, with an astonished stare.

Sang brought in supper and slung it on the red and white squares



of oilcloth. Then he moved the lamp and retired.

Senor Johnson gazed with distaste into his cup.



"This coffee would float a wedge," he commented sourly.

"She's no puling infant," agreed the cheerful Jed.



"And this!" went on the Senor, picking up what purported to be

plum duff: "Bog down a few currants in dough and call her



pudding!"

He ate in silence, then pushed back his chair and went to the



window, gazing through its grimy panes at the mountains, ethereal

in their evening saffron.



"Blamed Chink," he growled; "why don't he wash these windows?"

Jed laid down his busy knife and idle fork to gaze on his chief



with amazement. Buck Johnson, the austere, the aloof, the grimly

taciturn, the dangerous, to be thus complaining like a querulous



woman!

"Senor," said he, "you're off your feed."



Senor Johnson strodesavagely to the table and sat down with a

bang.



"I'm sick of it," he growled; "this thing will kill me off. I

might as well go be a buck nun and be done with it."



With one round-arm sweep he cleared aside the dishes.

"Give me that pen and paper behind you," he requested.



For an hour he wrote and destroyed. The floor became littered

with torn papers. Then he enveloped a meagre result. Parker had



watched him in silence.

The Senor looked up to catch his speculative eye. His own eye



twinkled a little, but the twinkle was determined and sinister,




文章总共2页
文章标签:名著  

章节正文