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The Heritage of the Desert-Part10_Zane Gray(1872-1939)_English Literature(文学名著)-第2页

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The reaching out of her mind was like the unfolding of a rose. Evidently



the Mormon restrictions had limited her opportunities to learn.

But her thought had striven to escape its narrow confines, and now,



liberated by sympathy and intelligence, it leaped forth.

Lambing-time came late in May, and Mescal, Wolf, Piute and Jack knew no



rest. Night-time was safer for the sheep than the day, though the

howling of a thousand coyotes made it hideous for the shepherds. All in



a day, seemingly, the little fleecy lambs came, as if by magic, and

filled the forest with piping bleats. Then they were tottering after



their mothers, gamboling at a day's growth, wilful as youth--and the

carnage began. Boldly the coyotes darted out of thicket and bush, and



many lambs never returned to their mothers. Gaunt shadows hovered always

near; the great timber-wolves waited in covert for prey. Piute slept not



at all, and the dog's jaws were flecked with blood morning and night.

Jack hung up fifty-four coyotes the second day; the third he let them



lie, seventy in number. Many times the rifle-barrel burned his hands.

His aim grew unerring, so that running brutes in range dropped in their



tracks. Many a gray coyote fell with a lamb in his teeth.

One night when sheep and lambs were in the corral, and the shepherds



rested round the camp-fire, the dog rose quivering, sniffed the cold

wind, and suddenly bristled with every hair standing erect.



"Wolf!" called Mescal.

The sheep began to bleat. A rippling crash, a splintering of wood, told



of an irresistible onslaught on the corral fence.

"Chus--chus!" exclaimed Piute.



Wolf, not heeding Mescal's cry, flashed like lightning under the cedars.

The rush of the sheep, pattering across the corral was succeeded by an



uproar.

"Bear! Bear!" cried Mescal, with dark eyes on Jack. He seized his rifle.



"Don't go," she implored, her hand on his arm. "Not at night--remember

Father Naab said not."



"Listen! I won't stand that. I'll go. Here, get in the tree--quick!"

"No--no--"



"Do as I say!" It was a command. The girl wavered. He dropped the

rifle, and swung her up. "Climb!"



"No--don't go--Jack!"

With Piute at his heels he ran out into the darkness.



VI

THE WIND IN THE CEDARS



Piute's Indian sense of the advantage of position in attack stood Jack in

good stead; he led him up the ledge which overhung one end of the corral.



In the pale starlight the sheep could be seen running in bands, massing

together, crowding the fence; their cries made a deafening dm.



The Indian shouted, but Jack could not understand him. A large black

object was visible in the shade of the ledge. Piute fired his carbine.



Before Jack could bring his rifle up the black thing moved into

startlingly rapid flight. Then spouts of red flame illumined the corral.



As he shot, Jack got fleeting glimpses of the bear moving like a dark

streak against a blur of white. For all he could tell no bullet took



effect.

When certain that the visitor had departed Jack descended into the



corral. He and Piute searched for dead sheep, but, much to their

surprise, found none. If the grizzly had killed one he must have taken



it with him; and estimating his strength from the gap he had broken in

the fence, he could easily have carried off a sheep. They repaired the



break and returned to camp.

"He's gone, Mescal. Come down," called Jack into the cedar. "Let me



help you--there! Wasn't it lucky? He wasn't so brave. Either the

flashes from the guns or the dog scared him. I was amazed to see how



fast he could run."

Piute found woolly brown fur hanging from Wolf's jaws.



"He nipped the brute, that's sure," said Jack. "Good dog! Maybe he kept

the bear from-- Why Mescal! you're white--you're shaking. There's no



danger. Piute and I'll take turns watching with Wolf."

Mescal went silently into her tent.



The sheep quieted down and made no further disturbance that night. The

dawn broke gray, with a cold north wind. Dun-colored clouds rolled up,



hiding the tips of the crags on the upper range, and a flurry of snow

whitened the cedars. After breakfast Jack tried to get Wolf to take the



track of the grizzly, but the scent had cooled.

Next day Mescal drove the sheep eastward toward the crags, and about the



middle of the afternoon reached the edge of the slope. Grass grew




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