酷兔英语
    当前位置:
  1. 首页
  2. 文章
  3. 娱乐英语
  4. 原版小说
  5. 正文

The Heritage of the Desert-Part6_Zane Gray(1872-1939)_English Literature(文学名著)-第2页

0 收藏 0 分享 0 赞

章节正文
文章总共2页


Hare gasped. He saw a red world. His eyes seemed bathed in blood. Red

scaly ground, bare of vegetation, sloped down, down, far down to a vast



irregular rent in the earth, which zigzagged through the plain beneath.

To the right it bent its crooked way under the brow of a black-timbered



plateau; to the left it straightened its angles to find a V-shaped vent

in the wall, now uplifted to a mountain range. Beyond this earth-riven



line lay something vast and illimitable, a far-reachingvision of white

wastes, of purple plains, of low mesas lost in distance. It was the



shimmering dust-veiled desert.

"Here we come to the real thing," explained Naab. "This is Windy Slope;



that black line is the Grand Canyon of Arizona; on the other side is the

Painted Desert where the Navajos live; Coconina Mountain shows his flat



head there to the right, and the wall on our left rises to the Vermillion

Cliffs. Now, look while you can, for presently you'll not be able to



see."

"Why?"



"Wind, sand, dust, gravel, pebbles--watch out for your eyes!"

Naab had not ceased speaking when Hare saw that the train of Indians



trailing down the slope was enveloped in red clouds. Then the white

wagons disappeared. Soon he was struck in the back by a gust which



justified Naab's warning. It swept by; the air grew clear again; once

more he could see. But presently a puff, taking him unawares, filled his



eyes with dust difficult of removal. Whereupon he turned his back to the

wind.



The afternoon grew apace; the sun glistened on the white patches of

Coconina Mountain; it set; and the wind died.



"Five miles of red sand," said Naab." Here's what kills the horses.

Getup."



There was no trail. All before was red sand, hollows, slopes, levels,

dunes, in which the horses sank above their fetlocks. The wheels



ploughed deep, and little red streams trailed down from the tires. Naab

trudged on foot with the reins in his hands. Hare essayed to walk also,



soon tired, and floundered behind till Naab ordered him to ride again.

Twilight came with the horses still toiling.



"There! thankful I am when we get off that strip! But, Jack, that

trailless waste prevents a night raid on my home. Even the Navajos shun



it after dark. We'll be home sooth. There's my sign. See? Night or

day we call it the Blue Star."



High in the black cliff a star-shaped, wind-worn hole let the blue sky

through.



There was cheer in Naab's "Getup," now, and the horses quickened with it.

Their iron-shod hoofs struck fire from the rosy road. "Easy, easy--



soho!" cried Naab to his steeds. In the pitchy blackness under the

shelving cliff they picked their way cautiously, and turned a corner.



Lights twinkled in Hare's sight, a fresh breeze, coming from water,

dampened his cheek, and a hollow rumble, a long roll as of distant



thunder, filled his ears.

"What's that?" he asked.



"That, my lad, is what I always love to hear. It means I'm home. It's

the roar of the Colorado as she takes her first plunge into the Canyon."



IV

THE OASIS



August Naab's oasis was an oval valley, level as a floor, green with leaf

and white with blossom, enclosed by a circle of colossal cliffs of vivid



vermilion hue. At its western curve the Colorado River split the red

walls from north to south. When the wind was west a sullen roar, remote



as of some far-off driving mill, filled the valley; when it was east a

dreamy hollow hum, a somnolent song, murmured through the cottonwoods;



when no wind stirred, silence reigned, a silence not of serene plain or

mountain fastness, but shut in, compressed, strange, and breathless.



Safe from the storms of the elements as well as of the world was this

Garden of Eschtah.



Naab had put Hare to bed on the unroofed porch of a log house, but routed

him out early, and when Hare lifted the blankets a shower of



cotton-blossoms drifted away like snow. A grove of gray-barked trees

spread green canopyoverhead, and through the intricate web shone crimson



walls, soaring with resistless onsweep up and up to shut out all but a

blue lake of sky.



"I want you to see the Navajos cross the river," said Naab.

Hare accompanied him out through the grove to a road that flanked the



first rise of the red wall; they followed this for half a mile, and




文章总共2页
文章标签:名著  

章节正文
Copyright © 2023 Qeto All rights reserved.
商务合作 | 联系我们 | 关于我们 | 版权声明 | 隐私条款 | 如果智培

京ICP备05059198号-1 京公网安备 11011202003401号