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The Heritage of the Desert-Part7_Zane Gray(1872-1939)_English Literature(文学名著)-第2页

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A frantic crowd of tousled-headed little ones were running from the log

school-house to form a circle under the trees. There were fourteen of



them, from four years of age up to ten or twelve. Such sturdy, glad-eyed

children Hare had never seen. In a few moments, as though their happy



screams were signals, the shady circle was filled with hounds, and a

string of puppies stepping on their long ears, and ruffling



turkey-gobblers, that gobbled and gobbled, and guinea-hens with their

shrill cries, and cackling chickens, and a lame wild goose that hobbled



along alone. Then there were shiny peafowls screeching clarion calls

from the trees overhead, and flocks of singing blackbirds, and pigeons



hovering over and alighting upon the house. Last to approach were a

woolly sheep that added his baa-baa to the din, and a bald-faced burro



that walked in his sleep. These two became the centre of clamor. After

many tumbles four chubby youngsters mounted the burro; and the others,



with loud acclaim, shouting, "Noddle, Noddle, getup! getup!" endeavored

to make him go. But Noddle nodded and refused to awaken or budge. Then



an ambitiousurchin of Six fastened his hands in the fur of the sheep and

essayed to climb to his back. Willing hands assisted him. "Ride him,



Billy, ride him. Getup, Navvy, getup!"

Navvy evidently had never been ridden, for he began a fair imitation of a



bucking bronco. Billy held on, but the smile vanished and he corners of

his mouth drew down



"Hang on, Billy, hang on," cried August Naab, in delight. Billy hung on

a moment longer, and then Navvy, bewildered by the pestering crowd about



him, launched out and, butting into Noddle, spilled the four youngsters

and Billy also into a wriggling heap.



This recess-time completed Hare's introduction to the Naabs. There were

Mother Mary, and Judith and Esther, whom he knew, and Mother Ruth and her



two daughters very like their sisters. Mother Ruth, August's second

wife, was younger than Mother Mary, more comely of face, and more sad and



serious of expression. The wives of the five sons, except Snap Naab's

frail bride, were stalwart women, fit to make homes and rear children.



"Now, Jack, things are moving all right," said August. For the present

you must eat and rest. Walk some, but don't tire yourself. We'll



practice shooting a little every day; that's one thing I'll spare time

for. I've a trick with a gun to teach you. And if you feel able, take a



burro and ride. Anyway, make yourself at home."

Hare found eating and resting to be matters of profound enjoyment.



Before he had fallen in with these good people it had been a year since

he had sat down to a full meal; longer still since he had eaten whole



some food. And now he had come to a "land overflowing with milk and

honey," as Mother Ruth smilingly said. He could not choose between roast



beef and chicken, and so he waived the question by taking both; and what

with the biscuits and butter, apple-sauce and blackberry jam, cherry pie



and milk like cream, there was danger of making himself ill. He told his

friends that he simply could not help it, which shameless confession



brought a hearty laugh from August and beaming smiles from his

women-folk.



For several days Hare was remarkably well, for an invalid. He won golden

praise from August at the rifle practice, and he began to take lessons in



the quick drawing and rapid firing of a Colt revolver. Naab was

wonderfully proficient in the use of both firearms; and his skill in



drawing the smaller weapon, in which his movement was quicker than the

eye, astonished Hare. "My lad," said August, "it doesn't follow because



I'm a Christian that I don't know how to handle a gun. Besides, I like

to shoot."



In these few days Hare learned what conquering the desert made of a man.

August Naab was close to threescore years; his chest was wide as a door,



his arm like the branch of an oak. He was a blacksmith, a mechanic, a

carpenter, a cooper, a potter. At his forge and in his shop, everywhere,



were crude tools, wagons, farming implements, sets of buckskin harness,

odds and ends of nameless things, eloquent and pregnant proof of the fact



that necessity is the mother of invention. He was a mason; the levee

that buffeted back the rage of the Colorado in flood, the wall that



turned the creek, the irrigationtunnel, the zigzag trail cut on the face

of the cliff--all these attested his eye for line, his judgment of






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