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The Lone Star Ranger-Part22_Zane Gray(1872-1939)_English Literature(文学名著)-第2页

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Retreating to the willows was as perilous a task as had ever

confronted Duane, and when he had accomplished it, right under



what seemed a hundred blazing rifles, he felt that he had

indeed been favored by Providence. This time men followed him a



goodly ways into the brake, and the ripping of lead through the

willows sounded on all sides of him.



When the noise of pursuit ceased Duane sat down in the

darkness, his mind clamped between two things--whether to try



again to escape or wait for possible opportunity. He seemed

incapable of decision. His intelligence told him that every



hour lessened his chances for escape. He had little enough

chance in any case, and that was what made another attempt so



desperately hard. Still it was not love of life that bound him.

There would come an hour, sooner or later, when he would wrench



decision out of this chaos of emotion and thought. But that

time was not yet.



he had remained quiet long enough to cool off and recover from

his run he found that he was tired. He stretched out to rest.



But the swarms of vicious mosquitoes prevented sleep. This

corner of the brake was low and near the river, a



breeding-ground for the blood-suckers. They sang and hummed and

whined around him in an ever-increasing horde. He covered his



head and hands with his coat and lay there patiently. That was

a long and wretched night. Morning found him still strong



physically, but in a dreadful state of mind.

First he hurried for the river. He could withstand the pangs of



hunger, but it was imperative to quenchthirst. His wound made

him feverish, and therefore more than usually hot and thirsty.



Again he was refreshed. That morning he was hard put to it to

hold himself back from attempting to cross the river. If he



could find a light log it was within the bounds of possibility

that he might ford the shallow water and bars of quicksand. But



not yet! Wearily, doggedly he faced about toward the bluff.

All that day and all that night, all the next day and all the



next night, he stole like a hunted savage from river to bluff;

and every hour forced upon him the bitter certainty that he was



trapped.

Duane lost track of days, of events. He had come to an evil



pass. There arrived an hour when, closely pressed by pursuers

at the extreme southern corner of the brake, he took to a dense



thicket of willows, driven to what he believed was his last

stand.



If only these human bloodhounds would swiftly close in on him!

Let him fight to the last bitter gasp and have it over! But



these hunters, eager as they were to get him, had care of their

own skins. They took few risks. They had him cornered.



It was the middle of the day, hot, dusty, oppressive,

threatening storm. Like a snake Duane crawled into a little



space in the darkest part of the thicket and lay still. Men had

cut him off from the bluff, from the river, seemingly from all



sides. But he heard voices only from in front and toward his

left. Even if his passage to the river had not been blocked, it



might just as well have been.

"Come on fellers--down hyar," called one man from the bluff.



"Got him corralled at last," shouted another.

"Reckon ye needn't be too shore. We thought thet more'n once,"



taunted another.

"I seen him, I tell you."



"Aw, thet was a deer."

"But Bill found fresh tracks an' blood on the willows. '



"If he's winged we needn't hurry."

"Hold on thar, you boys," came a shout in authoritative tones



from farther up the bluff. "Go slow. You-all air gittin'

foolish at the end of a long chase."



"Thet's right, Colonel. Hold 'em back. There's nothin' shorer

than somebody'll be stoppin' lead pretty quick. He'll be



huntin' us soon!"

"Let's surround this corner an' starve him out."



"Fire the brake."

How clearly all this talk pierced Duane's ears! In it he seemed



to hear his doom. This, then, was the end he had always

expected, which had been close to him before, yet never like



now.

"By God!" whispered Duane, "the thing for me to do now--is go



out--meet them!"




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