章节正文
How he would study, and oh, how he would sing! If only he could
fulfill McLean's expectations, and make the Angel proud of him!
If only he could be a real knight!
He could not understand why the Angel had failed to come. She had
wanted to see their tree felled. She would be too late if she did
not arrive soon. He had told her it would be ready that morning,
and she had said she surely would be there. Why, of all mornings,
was she late on this?
McLean had ridden to town. If he had been there, Freckles would
have asked that they delay the felling, but he scarcely liked to
ask the gang. He really had no authority, although he thought the
men would wait; but some way he found such embarrassment in framing
the request that he waited until the work was practically ended.
The saw was out, and the men were cutting into the felling side of
the tree when the Boss rode in.
His first word was to inquire for the Angel. When Freckles said she
had not yet come, the Boss at once gave orders to stop work on the
tree until she arrived; for he felt that she virtually had located
it, and if she desired to see it felled, she should. As the men
stepped back, a stiff morning breeze caught the top, that towered
high above its fellows. There was an ominous grinding at the base,
a shiver of the mighty trunk, then directly in line of its fall the
bushes swung apart and the laughing face of the Angel looked on them.
A groan of horror burst from the dry throats of the men, and
reading the agony in their faces, she stopped short, glanced up,
and understood.
"South!" shouted McLean. "Run south!"
The Angel was helpless. It was apparent that she did not know which
way south was. There was another slow shiver of the big tree.
The remainder of the gang stood motionless, but Freckles sprang past
the trunk and went leaping in big bounds. He caught up the Angel
and dashed through the thicket for safety. The swaying trunk was
half over when, for an instant, a near-by tree stayed its fall.
They saw Freckles' foot catch, and with the Angel he plunged headlong.
A terrible cry broke from the men, while McLean covered his face.
Instantly Freckles was up, with the Angel in his arms, struggling on.
The outer limbs were on them when they saw Freckles hurl the
Angel, face down, in the muck, as far from him as he could send her.
Springing after, in an attempt to cover her body with his own,
he whirled to see if they were yet in danger, and with outstretched
arms braced himself for the shock. The branches shut them from
sight, and the awful crash rocked the earth.
McLean and Duncan ran with axes and saws. The remainder of the gang
followed, and they worked desperately. It seemed a long time before
they caught a glimpse of the Angel's blue dress, but it renewed
their vigor. Duncan fell on his knees beside her and tore the muck
from underneath her with his hands. In a few seconds he dragged her
out, choking and stunned, but surely not fatally hurt.
Freckles lay a little farther under the tree, a big limb pinning
him down. His eyes were wide open. He was perfectly conscious.
Duncan began mining beneath him, but Freckles stopped him.
"You can't be moving me," he said. "You must cut off the limb and
lift it. I know."
Two men ran for the big saw. A number of them laid hold of the limb
and bore up. In a short time it was removed, and Freckles lay free.
The men bent over to lift him, but he motioned them away.
"Don't be touching me until I rest a bit," he pleaded.
Then he twisted his head until he saw the Angel, who was wiping
muck from her eyes and face on the skirt of her dress.
"Try to get up," he begged.
McLean laid hold of the Angel and helped her to her feet.
"Do you think any bones are broken?" gasped Freckles.
The Angel shook her head and wiped muck.
"You see if you can find any, sir," Freckles commanded.
The Angel yielded herself to McLean's touch, and he assured
Freckles that she was not seriously injured.
Freckles settled back, a smile of ineffable tenderness on his face.
"Thank the Lord!" he hoarsely whispered.
The Angel leaned toward him.
"Now, Freckles, you!" she cried. "It's your turn. Please get up!"
A pitiful spasm swept Freckles' face. The sight of it washed every
vestige of color from the Angel's. She took hold of his hands.
"Freckles, get up!" It was half command, half entreaty.
"Easy, Angel, easy! Let me rest a bit first!" implored Freckles.
She knelt beside him. He reached his arm around her and drew
her closely. He looked at McLean in an agony of entreaty that
brought the Boss to his knees on the other side.
"Oh, Freckles!" McLean cried. "Not that! Surely we can do something!
We must! Let me see!"
He tried to unfasten Freckles' neckband, but his fingers shook so
clumsily that the Angel pushed them away and herself laid Freckles'
chest bare. With one hasty glance she gathered the clothing
together and slipped her arm under his head. Freckles lifted his
eyes of agony to hers.
"You see?" he said.
The Angel nodded dumbly.
Freckles turned to McLean.
"Thank you for everything," he panted. "Where are the boys?"
"They are all here," said the Boss, "except a couple who have gone
for doctors, Mrs. Duncan and the Bird Woman."
"It's no use trying to do anything," said Freckles. "You won't
forget the muff and the Christmas box. The muff especial?"
There was a movement above them so pronounced that it attracted
Freckles' attention, even in that extreme hour. He looked up, and
a pleased smile flickered on his drawn face.
"Why, if it ain't me Little Chicken!" he cried hoarsely. "He must
be making his very first trip from the log. Now Duncan can have his
big watering-trough."
"It was Little Chicken that made me late," faltered the Angel.
"I was so anxious to get here early I forgot to bring his breakfast
from the carriage. He must have been hungry, for when I passed the
log he started after me. He was so wabbly, and so slow flying from
tree to tree and through the bushes, I just had to wait on him, for
I couldn't drive him back."
"Of course you couldn't! Me bird has too amazing good sinse to go
back when he could be following you," exulted Freckles, exactly as
if he did not realize what the delay had cost him. Then he lay
silently thinking, but presently he asked slowly: "And so `twas me
Little Chicken that was making you late, Angel?"
"Yes," said the Angel.
A spasm of fierce pain shook Freckles, and a look of uncertainty
crossed his face.
"All summer I've been thanking God for the falling of the feather
and all the delights it's brought me," he muttered, "but this looks
as if----"
He stopped short and raised questioning eyes to McLean.
"I can't help being Irish, but I can help being superstitious,"
he said. "I mustn't be laying it to the Almighty, or to me bird,
must I?"
"No, dear lad," said McLean, stroking the brilliant hair.
"The choice lay with you. You could have stood a rooted dolt like
all the remainder of us. It was through your great love and your
high courage that you made the sacrifice."
"Don't you be so naming it, sir!" cried Freckles. "It's just
the reverse. If I could be giving me body the hundred times over to
save hers from this, I'd be doing it and take joy with every pain."
He turned with a smile of adoring tenderness to the Angel. She was
ghastly white, and her eyes were dull and glazed. She scarcely
seemed to hear or understand what was coming, but she bravely tried
to answer that smile.
"Is my forehead covered with dirt?" he asked.
She shook her head.
"You did once," he gasped.
Instantly she laid her lips on his forehead, then on each cheek,
and then in a long kiss on his lips.
McLean bent over him.
"Freckles," he said brokenly, "you will never know how I love you.
You won't go without saying good-bye to me?"
That word stung the Angel to quick comprehension. She started as if
arousing from sleep.
"Good-bye?" she cried sharply, her eyes widening and the color
rushing into her white face. "Good-bye! Why, what do you mean?
Who's saying good-bye? Where could Freckles go, when he is hurt
like this, save to the hospital? You needn't say good-bye for that.
Of course, we will all go with him! You call up the men. We must
start right away."
"It's no use, Angel," said Freckles. "I'm thinking ivry bone in me
breast is smashed. You'll have to be letting me go!"
"I will not," said the Angel flatly. "It's no use wasting precious
time talking about it. You are alive. You are breathing; and no
matter how badly your bones are broken, what are great surgeons for
but to fix you up and make you well again? You promise me that
you'll just grit your teeth and hang on when we hurt you, for we
must start with you as quickly as it can be done. I don't know what
has been the matter with me. Here's good time wasted already."
"Oh, Angel!" moaned Freckles, "I can't! You don't know how bad it is.
I'll die the minute you are for trying to lift me!"
"Of course you will, if you make up your mind to do it," said
the Angel. "But if you are determined you won't, and set yourself to
breathing deep and strong, and hang on to me tight, I can get you out.
Really you must, Freckles, no matter how it hurts, for you did this
for me, and now I must save you, so you might as well promise."
She bent over him, trying to smile encouragement with her
fear-stiffened lips.
"You will promise, Freckles?"
Big drops of cold sweat ran together on Freckles' temples.
"Angel, darlin' Angel," he pleaded, taking her hand in his.
"You ain't understanding, and I can't for the life of me be
telling you, but indade, it's best to be letting me go.
This is my chance. Please say good-bye, and let me slip
off quick!"
He appealed to McLean.
"Dear Boss, you know! You be telling her that, for me, living is
far worse pain than dying. Tell her you know death is the best
thing that could ever be happening to me!"
"Merciful Heaven!" burst in the Angel. "I can't endure this delay!"
She caught Freckles' hand to her breast, and bending over him,
looked deeply into his stricken eyes.
"`Angel, I give you my word of honor that I will keep right
on breathing.' That's what you are going to promise me," she said.
"Do you say it?"
Freckles hesitated.
"Freckles!" imploringly commanded the Angel, "YOU DO SAY IT!"
"Yis," gasped Freckles.
The Angel sprang to her feet.
"Then that's all right," she said, with a tinge of her old-
time briskness. "You just keep breathing away like a steam
engine, and I will do all the remainder."
The eager men gathered around her.
"It's going to be a tough pull to get Freckles out," she said, "but
it's our only chance, so listen closely and don't for the lives of
you fail me in doing quickly what I tell you. There's no time to
spend falling down over each other; we must have some system.
You four there get on those wagon horses and ride to the sleeping-tent.
Get the stoutest cot, a couple of comforts, and a pillow. Ride back
with them some way to save time. If you meet any other men of the
gang, send them here to help carry the cot. We won't risk the jolt
of driving with him. The others clear a path out to the road; and
Mr. McLean, you take Nellie and ride to town. Tell my father how
Freckles is hurt and that he risked it to save me. Tell him I'm
going to take Freckles to Chicago on the noon train, and I want him
fulfill McLean's expectations, and make the Angel proud of him!
If only he could be a real knight!
He could not understand why the Angel had failed to come. She had
wanted to see their tree felled. She would be too late if she did
not arrive soon. He had told her it would be ready that morning,
and she had said she surely would be there. Why, of all mornings,
was she late on this?
McLean had ridden to town. If he had been there, Freckles would
have asked that they delay the felling, but he scarcely liked to
ask the gang. He really had no authority, although he thought the
men would wait; but some way he found such embarrassment in framing
the request that he waited until the work was practically ended.
The saw was out, and the men were cutting into the felling side of
the tree when the Boss rode in.
His first word was to inquire for the Angel. When Freckles said she
had not yet come, the Boss at once gave orders to stop work on the
tree until she arrived; for he felt that she virtually had located
it, and if she desired to see it felled, she should. As the men
stepped back, a stiff morning breeze caught the top, that towered
high above its fellows. There was an ominous grinding at the base,
a shiver of the mighty trunk, then directly in line of its fall the
bushes swung apart and the laughing face of the Angel looked on them.
A groan of horror burst from the dry throats of the men, and
reading the agony in their faces, she stopped short, glanced up,
and understood.
"South!" shouted McLean. "Run south!"
The Angel was helpless. It was apparent that she did not know which
way south was. There was another slow shiver of the big tree.
The remainder of the gang stood motionless, but Freckles sprang past
the trunk and went leaping in big bounds. He caught up the Angel
and dashed through the thicket for safety. The swaying trunk was
half over when, for an instant, a near-by tree stayed its fall.
They saw Freckles' foot catch, and with the Angel he plunged headlong.
A terrible cry broke from the men, while McLean covered his face.
Instantly Freckles was up, with the Angel in his arms, struggling on.
The outer limbs were on them when they saw Freckles hurl the
Angel, face down, in the muck, as far from him as he could send her.
Springing after, in an attempt to cover her body with his own,
he whirled to see if they were yet in danger, and with outstretched
arms braced himself for the shock. The branches shut them from
sight, and the awful crash rocked the earth.
McLean and Duncan ran with axes and saws. The remainder of the gang
followed, and they worked desperately. It seemed a long time before
they caught a glimpse of the Angel's blue dress, but it renewed
their vigor. Duncan fell on his knees beside her and tore the muck
from underneath her with his hands. In a few seconds he dragged her
out, choking and stunned, but surely not fatally hurt.
Freckles lay a little farther under the tree, a big limb pinning
him down. His eyes were wide open. He was perfectly conscious.
Duncan began mining beneath him, but Freckles stopped him.
"You can't be moving me," he said. "You must cut off the limb and
lift it. I know."
Two men ran for the big saw. A number of them laid hold of the limb
and bore up. In a short time it was removed, and Freckles lay free.
The men bent over to lift him, but he motioned them away.
"Don't be touching me until I rest a bit," he pleaded.
Then he twisted his head until he saw the Angel, who was wiping
muck from her eyes and face on the skirt of her dress.
"Try to get up," he begged.
McLean laid hold of the Angel and helped her to her feet.
"Do you think any bones are broken?" gasped Freckles.
The Angel shook her head and wiped muck.
"You see if you can find any, sir," Freckles commanded.
The Angel yielded herself to McLean's touch, and he assured
Freckles that she was not seriously injured.
Freckles settled back, a smile of ineffable tenderness on his face.
"Thank the Lord!" he hoarsely whispered.
The Angel leaned toward him.
"Now, Freckles, you!" she cried. "It's your turn. Please get up!"
A pitiful spasm swept Freckles' face. The sight of it washed every
vestige of color from the Angel's. She took hold of his hands.
"Freckles, get up!" It was half command, half entreaty.
"Easy, Angel, easy! Let me rest a bit first!" implored Freckles.
She knelt beside him. He reached his arm around her and drew
her closely. He looked at McLean in an agony of entreaty that
brought the Boss to his knees on the other side.
"Oh, Freckles!" McLean cried. "Not that! Surely we can do something!
We must! Let me see!"
He tried to unfasten Freckles' neckband, but his fingers shook so
clumsily that the Angel pushed them away and herself laid Freckles'
chest bare. With one hasty glance she gathered the clothing
together and slipped her arm under his head. Freckles lifted his
eyes of agony to hers.
"You see?" he said.
The Angel nodded dumbly.
Freckles turned to McLean.
"Thank you for everything," he panted. "Where are the boys?"
"They are all here," said the Boss, "except a couple who have gone
for doctors, Mrs. Duncan and the Bird Woman."
"It's no use trying to do anything," said Freckles. "You won't
forget the muff and the Christmas box. The muff especial?"
There was a movement above them so pronounced that it attracted
Freckles' attention, even in that extreme hour. He looked up, and
a pleased smile flickered on his drawn face.
"Why, if it ain't me Little Chicken!" he cried hoarsely. "He must
be making his very first trip from the log. Now Duncan can have his
big watering-trough."
"It was Little Chicken that made me late," faltered the Angel.
"I was so anxious to get here early I forgot to bring his breakfast
from the carriage. He must have been hungry, for when I passed the
log he started after me. He was so wabbly, and so slow flying from
tree to tree and through the bushes, I just had to wait on him, for
I couldn't drive him back."
"Of course you couldn't! Me bird has too amazing good sinse to go
back when he could be following you," exulted Freckles, exactly as
if he did not realize what the delay had cost him. Then he lay
silently thinking, but presently he asked slowly: "And so `twas me
Little Chicken that was making you late, Angel?"
"Yes," said the Angel.
A spasm of fierce pain shook Freckles, and a look of uncertainty
crossed his face.
"All summer I've been thanking God for the falling of the feather
and all the delights it's brought me," he muttered, "but this looks
as if----"
He stopped short and raised questioning eyes to McLean.
"I can't help being Irish, but I can help being superstitious,"
he said. "I mustn't be laying it to the Almighty, or to me bird,
must I?"
"No, dear lad," said McLean, stroking the brilliant hair.
"The choice lay with you. You could have stood a rooted dolt like
all the remainder of us. It was through your great love and your
high courage that you made the sacrifice."
"Don't you be so naming it, sir!" cried Freckles. "It's just
the reverse. If I could be giving me body the hundred times over to
save hers from this, I'd be doing it and take joy with every pain."
He turned with a smile of adoring tenderness to the Angel. She was
ghastly white, and her eyes were dull and glazed. She scarcely
seemed to hear or understand what was coming, but she bravely tried
to answer that smile.
"Is my forehead covered with dirt?" he asked.
She shook her head.
"You did once," he gasped.
Instantly she laid her lips on his forehead, then on each cheek,
and then in a long kiss on his lips.
McLean bent over him.
"Freckles," he said brokenly, "you will never know how I love you.
You won't go without saying good-bye to me?"
That word stung the Angel to quick comprehension. She started as if
arousing from sleep.
"Good-bye?" she cried sharply, her eyes widening and the color
rushing into her white face. "Good-bye! Why, what do you mean?
Who's saying good-bye? Where could Freckles go, when he is hurt
like this, save to the hospital? You needn't say good-bye for that.
Of course, we will all go with him! You call up the men. We must
start right away."
"It's no use, Angel," said Freckles. "I'm thinking ivry bone in me
breast is smashed. You'll have to be letting me go!"
"I will not," said the Angel flatly. "It's no use wasting precious
time talking about it. You are alive. You are breathing; and no
matter how badly your bones are broken, what are great surgeons for
but to fix you up and make you well again? You promise me that
you'll just grit your teeth and hang on when we hurt you, for we
must start with you as quickly as it can be done. I don't know what
has been the matter with me. Here's good time wasted already."
"Oh, Angel!" moaned Freckles, "I can't! You don't know how bad it is.
I'll die the minute you are for trying to lift me!"
"Of course you will, if you make up your mind to do it," said
the Angel. "But if you are determined you won't, and set yourself to
breathing deep and strong, and hang on to me tight, I can get you out.
Really you must, Freckles, no matter how it hurts, for you did this
for me, and now I must save you, so you might as well promise."
She bent over him, trying to smile encouragement with her
fear-stiffened lips.
"You will promise, Freckles?"
Big drops of cold sweat ran together on Freckles' temples.
"Angel, darlin' Angel," he pleaded, taking her hand in his.
"You ain't understanding, and I can't for the life of me be
telling you, but indade, it's best to be letting me go.
This is my chance. Please say good-bye, and let me slip
off quick!"
He appealed to McLean.
"Dear Boss, you know! You be telling her that, for me, living is
far worse pain than dying. Tell her you know death is the best
thing that could ever be happening to me!"
"Merciful Heaven!" burst in the Angel. "I can't endure this delay!"
She caught Freckles' hand to her breast, and bending over him,
looked deeply into his stricken eyes.
"`Angel, I give you my word of honor that I will keep right
on breathing.' That's what you are going to promise me," she said.
"Do you say it?"
Freckles hesitated.
"Freckles!" imploringly commanded the Angel, "YOU DO SAY IT!"
"Yis," gasped Freckles.
The Angel sprang to her feet.
"Then that's all right," she said, with a tinge of her old-
time briskness. "You just keep breathing away like a steam
engine, and I will do all the remainder."
The eager men gathered around her.
"It's going to be a tough pull to get Freckles out," she said, "but
it's our only chance, so listen closely and don't for the lives of
you fail me in doing quickly what I tell you. There's no time to
spend falling down over each other; we must have some system.
You four there get on those wagon horses and ride to the sleeping-tent.
Get the stoutest cot, a couple of comforts, and a pillow. Ride back
with them some way to save time. If you meet any other men of the
gang, send them here to help carry the cot. We won't risk the jolt
of driving with him. The others clear a path out to the road; and
Mr. McLean, you take Nellie and ride to town. Tell my father how
Freckles is hurt and that he risked it to save me. Tell him I'm
going to take Freckles to Chicago on the noon train, and I want him
- breeze [bri:z]
n.微风；不费力的事 (初中英语单词) - shiver [´ʃivə] v.&n.(使)颤抖；碎片 (初中英语单词)
- horror [´hɔrə] n.恐怖；战栗 (初中英语单词)
- helpless [´helpləs] a.无助的，无依靠的 (初中英语单词)
- apparent [ə´pærənt] a.显然的；表面上的 (初中英语单词)
- sprang [spræŋ] spring 的过去式 (初中英语单词)
- instant [´instənt] a.立即的 n.紧迫；瞬间 (初中英语单词)
- glimpse [glimps] n.&v.瞥见 (初中英语单词)
- underneath [,ʌndə´ni:θ] ad.&prep.在底下 (初中英语单词)
- seriously [´siəriəsli] ad.严肃；严重，重大 (初中英语单词)
- movement [´mu:vmənt] n.活动；运动；动作 (初中英语单词)
- extreme [ik´stri:m] a.尽头的 n.极端 (初中英语单词)
- anxious [´æŋkʃəs] a.担忧的；渴望的 (初中英语单词)
- carriage [´kæridʒ] n.马车；客车；货运 (初中英语单词)
- amazing [ə´meiziŋ] a.惊人的；惊奇的 (初中英语单词)
- presently [´prezəntli] ad.不久；目前 (初中英语单词)
- fierce [fiəs] a.残忍的；强烈的 (初中英语单词)
- brilliant [´briliənt] a.灿烂的；杰出的 (初中英语单词)
- reverse [ri´və:s] v.颠倒；(使)反向 (初中英语单词)
- forehead [´fɔrid] n.额，前部 (初中英语单词)
- sharply [´ʃɑ:pli] ad.锋利地；剧烈地 (初中英语单词)
- endure [in´djuə] vt.忍耐，忍受；坚持 (初中英语单词)
- mighty [´maiti] a.强有力的 ad.很 (高中英语单词)
- remainder [ri´meində] n.剩余物；残余部分 (高中英语单词)
- motionless [´məuʃənləs] a.静止的；固定的 (高中英语单词)
- thicket [´θikit] n.灌木丛；密集的东西 (高中英语单词)
- near-by [´niə-bai] a.附近的 ad.在附近 (高中英语单词)
- desperately [´despəritli] ad.绝望地；拼命地 (高中英语单词)
- perfectly [´pə:fiktli] ad.理想地；完美地 (高中英语单词)
- mining [´mainiŋ] n.采矿；矿业 (高中英语单词)
- tenderness [´tendənis] n.娇嫩；柔软；温柔 (高中英语单词)
- pitiful [´pitifəl] a.可怜的；慈悲的 (高中英语单词)
- pronounced [prə´naunst] a.发出音的；显著的 (高中英语单词)
- bravely [´breivli] ad.勇敢地；毅然 (高中英语单词)
- saying [´seiŋ, ´sei-iŋ] n.言语；言论；格言 (高中英语单词)
- comprehension [,kɔmpri´henʃən] n.理解；领悟 (高中英语单词)
- encouragement [in´kʌridʒmənt] n.鼓励；赞助；引诱 (高中英语单词)
- stricken [´strikən] strike的过去分词 (高中英语单词)
- ridden [´ridn] ride 的过去分词 (英语四级单词)
- embarrassment [im´bærəsmənt] n.窘迫；困惑；为难 (英语四级单词)
- virtually [´və:tʃuəli] ad.实际上，实质上 (英语四级单词)
- ominous [´ɔminəs] a.不祥的；预示的 (英语四级单词)
- touching [´tʌtʃiŋ] a.动人的 prep.提到 (英语四级单词)
- trying [´traiiŋ] a.难堪的；费劲的 (英语四级单词)
- almighty [ɔ:l´maiti] a.万能的；全能的 (英语四级单词)
- wasting [´weistiŋ] a.&n.浪费(的) (英语四级单词)
- happening [´hæpəniŋ] n.事件，偶然发生的事 (英语四级单词)
- chicago [ʃi´kɑ:gəu] n.芝加哥 (英语四级单词)
- hoarsely [´hɔ:sli] ad.嘶哑地 (英语六级单词)
- entreaty [in´tri:ti] n.恳求，哀求 (英语六级单词)
- flatly [´flætli] ad.平淡地；断然地 (英语六级单词)
- taking [´teikiŋ] a.迷人的 n.捕获物 (英语六级单词)
文章标签:名著
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