Silury Cole threw a fresh pine-knot on the fire and stepped to the door to peer out into the night, listening intently for the first sound of her father's footsteps on the hard mountain road. For two days the revenue officers had been abroad on the mountains, and the hearts of women and children were heavy with terror and dread1.
The rich pine kindled2, burnt into vivid flame, throwing its light upon the girl from head to foot, on her smooth hair, black as the night, on the profile of her face, denoting unusual character for a girl of fourteen, and on her primitively3 fashioned gown of blue checked cotton.
The rioting flames, filling the black cavernous depths of the fireplace, lighted up the low room also, throwing grotesque4 shadows behind the loom5 and spinning-wheel, lingering round the flaxen heads of the three children asleep on the low trundle bed, glancing over the basket of corn ready to be shelled for the miller6, and over the table and simple preparations for supper.
Mrs. Cole sat in the corner at one end of the flat stone hearth7, smoking and silently brooding. She was a small, sickly looking woman with sunken eyes and sharp, delicate features. She leaned forward with her chin resting in one hand, staring into the fire. A stick of wood burned apart and fell softly to the coals underneath8. She started and glanced at Silury.
"Is he comin', Silury?"
"Not yet, ma."
She refilled her pipe and laid a glowing coal on it, shaking her head slowly.
"An' not likely to till the revenue men have gone away."
"Ah, but don't you know, ma, pa never stays away mor'n two days at a time? Recollect9 the time he come a-whistlin' with his gun on his shoulder, an' the raiders just down on the mill road," said Silury, and laughed at the remembrance of his daring. "Pa ain't easily scared."
"That's so, an' I remember that he was mighty10 hungry, too," murmured her mother, a faint smile, for a moment, lighting11 up her prematurely12 wrinkled face.
Silury glanced over her shoulder at the oven of potatoes steaming on the hearth, and the frying-pan filled with fresh-cut rashers of bacon ready to place over the fire. Her preparations were all complete. When he came it would take but a few minutes to place a smoking hot supper, such as he loved, before him.
"Are the children covered up?" her mother inquired, glancing toward the bed. "These October nights are gettin' cold."
Silury stepped across the room and tucked the cover around the young sleepers13. No wonder her face had such a mature look—she moved with such a womanly air—the cares of the household nearly all fell upon her. She was the pride of her father's heart, her mother depended on her, and the younger children always looked to her to supply their needs. Mrs Cole relapsed into her former attitude, for a few minutes, then suddenly raised her head, a look of fear flashing into her dull eyes. "Silury, it 'pears to me I hear somethin'," she whispered quickly.
The girl hurried back to the door, and leaned out again, her head slightly bent14, one hand lifted to her ear in a listening attitude. A gust15 of wind swept down the black serried16 peaks, so high above the small cabin, so sharply cut against the starlit sky, hurrying on its erratic17 course to the valley. The cow munched18 dry corn husks in a corner of the fence, and Kit19, the mule20, pawed restlessly at the stable door. But none of those sounds had disturbed Mrs. Cole, roused that fear in her. Far away Silury heard the steady beat of hoofs22 upon the dry, hard road, as of a horse newly shod, and urged to his utmost speed.
"I 'low it's only somebody ridin' fer the doctor," she said soothingly23, but a line, drawn24 by keenest anxiety, appeared between her dark brows. The sound came upward from the valley, not downward from the mountains. It drew nearer each moment, bringing glad or evil tidings to some lone25 dweller26 on the heights, for no one ever traveled over the mountains in that way simply for the pleasure of it. How swift, how steady, fell the iron-shod feet upon the earth! now clear and distinct, as they passed along a ridge27, now almost lost as they plunged28 into a ravine. The big liver-colored hound, lying on the doorstep, stood up, sniffed29 the air, and howled mournfully.
"It may be the raiders," muttered Mrs. Cole restlessly.
"Or somebody's dead, an' they er comin' fer their folks," said Silury in awed21 tones.
She could hear the heavy panting of the horse, as, with slackened gait, he came up the hollow below the house, and see an outline of the rider as they turned the lot fence; then, as they crossed the narrow path of light projected from the doorway30 beyond the low yard fence, she recognized a valley neighbor. He scarcely halted, as he excitedly cried:
"Silury, the raiders got yer pa—took him over in Jimson's Brake, along with Peleg White, an' one o' the Davis boys. They'll pass Buckhorn Springs to-night."
And then he went on his way, to carry the sad news to more remote habitations; and great silence seemed to fall upon the mountain-side. Silury and her mother looked speechlessly at one another, then Mrs. Cole passed a trembling hand confusedly over her face.
"What all did he say, Silury? It 'pears to me my understandin' ain't quite clear to-night."
"He said—" she caught her breath in a sob31. "Oh, ma! the raiders have took pa; what shall we do, what shall we do? Poor pa! it will kill him to be put in prison!" in a burst of despairing anguish32.
Mrs. Cole crouched33 lower in her chair.
"I knew it would come. I've been a-feelin' it here for a long time—a long time," one thin hand groping for her heart. "Yes, he'll pine fer his freedom an' the mountings when he's shut up in jail. Oh, I've begged him not to be a moonshiner—not to make whiskey on the sly. They all have to suffer fer it sooner or later." Her wandering, tearful eyes fell on the waiting supper. "How hungry he must be!"
There were no noisy demonstrations34, but a grief, pathetic as it was deep. They were mountaineers, patient by nature, and schooled by all the circumstances of life to endure and be strong. The law does not punish the moonshiner alone, but it falls heavily on his wife and children. Silury dried her eyes and touched her mother on the shoulder, speaking in a firmer tone:
"I must go down to Buckhorn Springs to-night, ma."
"Eh?" said the dazed woman.
"I must see pa; I must help him to get away from the raiders."
"You, Silury! How'll you do it?"
"I don't know," her lips trembling again, "but I must do it—I must!"
Mrs. Cole stared at her. She had faith in Silury's courage and ability, but now she caught the girl's hand, fresh terror seizing her.
"Don't you get into trouble, honey. Me an' the children would perish if your pa an' you were both took off."
"Don't you fret35, ma; I'll come back to you an' bring pa, too."
"How'll you get to Buckhorn Springs?"
"Ride Kit."
She was already down on her knees before the fire, kindling36 a torch to take out to the lot with her. She looked up at her mother with brave, tender eyes.
"Now, don't pester37 yerself any more'n you can help, ma."
Mrs. Cole shook her head with a deep sigh, and instinctively38 reached for her pipe, but she could only sit and hold it in her hand, unfilled, unlighted, while Silury went away to the lot with the flaring39 torch and an old saddle thrown on her arm.
Kit was a shabby beast, thin, wiry, and with only one good eye, but he had served the Coles faithfully. He greeted the young girl with a gentle whinny, and she leaned her head against him with another burst of tears. But she quickly wiped them away, and led Kit out to the road. It did not take her long to put bridle40 and saddle on him, then she ran in, took down her father's rifle from the rack over the front door, and in a few minutes had started on her solitary41 ride down the mountains. The hound would have followed her, but she ordered him back. "Go back, Bolivar, an' take care o' them that's left behind," and he slunk unwillingly42 to the doorstep again.
It was a night to live in the child's memory all her life, for with all her fearlessness and hard training she had never before been called upon to traverse the mountain passes alone after darkness had fallen upon them. Solitude43 and gloom surrounded her. The valley seemed but a formless gulf44 of darkness, the multitudinous mountains, black sentinels, towering to the stars. Far away in some remote fastness of the mountains a dog barked, and she could hear the prolonged blast of a hunting horn. A star shot downward from the zenith, leaving a trail of fire across the sky, and was lost behind the far-reaching western ranges. A sense of isolation45 oppressed her. She seemed the only living human creature in all the vast, silent world. On the saddle in front of her she held the trusty rifle, and that gave her a sense of security from beasts of prey46. Her father had taught her how to use the gun, and practice had given her an almost unerring aim. But my young readers will acknowledge that it was a trying situation for even a mountain girl, to ride alone through ravines and over declivities, often only a bridle path to guide her. It required a brave heart and a steady nerve.
Buckhorn Springs are on the public highway leading from a market town in North Georgia to Murphy, North Carolina, and traditions of the wonderful medicinal qualities of the water come down, even from the remote days when the Indian set up the poles of his wigwam near the springs, and slaked48 his thirst in their cool, healing streams, flowing out from under Buckhorn Mountain. The Indian and his wigwam are mere49 traditions now themselves, and the white man and his covered market wagon50 have taken their places. It has been the favorite camping-ground of the mountaineers coming from or going to market since the first white settlers boldly penetrated51 the wilderness52 beyond. Campers were there the night the revenue officers were to pass with Amaziah Cole, Peleg White, and young Davis. They were on the roadside, their white covered wagon drawn out under the sparse53 timber, their sleek54 red oxen lying unyoked near it. A camp-fire of brushwood and pine-knots blazed up in the open space between the timber and the road, throwing strange eerie55 shadows against the mountain-side, and in the tree-tops above.
A lean, brown-faced wagoner sat on an inverted56 feed-box whittling57 a stick, and a woman occupied a rude camp-stool nearer the fire, the light bringing out the stripes in her brown and yellow homespun skirts, and the melancholy58 lines in her sharp-featured face. A brown woolen59 veil was tied around her head, and she rubbed snuff with subdued60 enjoyment61. Silury did not go down to the public road. On the mountain-side, above the springs, a ledge47 of gray rocks jutted62 out. Dismounting at a level spot in the pathway, Silury tied Kit's bridle to an overhanging bough63, then with the gun grasped in her hands, she crept through the underbrush to the rocks. She trembled with excitement, for a daring thought had come to her—a scheme whereby she might deliver her father from his captors. She crouched down behind the rocks, and waited, praying that she might be calm, that her eye might be true, her hand steady when the time came.
Evidently the campers had heard of the raid, and were intending to sit up until the officers passed with the prisoners, for several times, during that lagging hour of suspense64 Silury spent behind the boulders65, the man walked out into the road to listen for sounds of travel.
"I 'low they are comin' at last," he said, closing his knife with a sharp click, and his wife put up her snuff-box and joined him on the roadside.
Silury's heart gave a great thump66, thump, against her side. She started into a more erect67 position, bringing the barrel of her rifle to a level with the rock. The tramping sound of horses' feet could be distinctly heard on the road, and presently the cavalcade68 rode up, the prisoners in the middle. The officers were feeling comparatively secure. No rescue had ever been attempted at Buckhorn Springs. Friends of prisoners had sometimes ambushed69 in the wilder country above, but this raid had been unmolested. They had been riding hard, and so they halted for a few minutes at the springs, and some of them dismounted for a drink.
Silury saw her father astride a powerful mule, his hands tied together, but his lower limbs free. He looked haggard and unkempt, his long, black hair falling to his shoulders, his beard tangled71. He bore the marks of his sojourn72 in Jimson's Brake, and of his resistance to arrest.
"Poor pa!"
Did he hear that trembling, pitying whisper? He threw up his head, his black, deep-set eyes flashing an eager glance around. The officer at his side fell back a little to speak to a comrade. It was the girl's chance. She suddenly rose head and shoulders above the rocks, the camp-fire shining on her white face and bare head.
"Look out, pa! look out!" she screamed in shrill73, piercing tones, and fired.
He saw her, read her purpose and, as the animal under him staggered and fell, he leaped from its back like a panther, and disappeared in the underbrush.
It was all so quick, so unexpected! Through the curling wreath of smoke from the rifle, Silury's face appeared for a moment to the amazed eyes of the officers; then they realized what had happened, and fearing a stronger attack, put spurs to their horses and hustled74 their other prisoners away, leaving the dead mule in the road.
The next morning, as the rising sun gilded75 the mountain tops with gold, the revenue officers rode through the streets of the market town with two prisoners, telling a thrilling story of the moonshiners' ambush70 at Buckhorn Springs and the escape of Amaziah Cole.
It was about that same time that Silury stood again on the doorstep of home, her face aglow76, her eyes radiant, in spite of the sleepless77 night spent abroad on the mountains. Bolivar crouched against her feet, or licked her hands in his joy at her return, but she scarcely noticed him. She was looking at the unfinished supper, cold on the hearth, the gray, fireless ashes in the deep fireplace, and her mother asleep in her chair.
"Wake up, ma! wake up!" she cried, joyously78; "pa is here!"
Mrs. Cole started up and rubbed her eyes as she saw her husband and daughter standing79 in the doorway. "Did I dream it all?" she murmured helplessly. "I thought the raiders were takin' you to jail, Amaziah."
"So they were, an' I'd be there right now ef—" he stopped, choked with emotion, and his hand stroked Silury's head.
"An' he's never goin' to be a moonshiner again, ma, never! Ain't we glad!" and Silury slipped across the floor to wake the younger children. Her father's proud eyes followed her.
"It's all owin' to you, all owin' to you, Silury."
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收听单词发音
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1
dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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2
kindled
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| （使某物）燃烧，着火( kindle的过去式和过去分词 )； 激起（感情等）； 发亮，放光 | |
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3
primitively
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| 最初地，自学而成地 | |
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grotesque
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| adj.怪诞的，丑陋的；n.怪诞的图案，怪人（物） | |
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5
loom
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| n.织布机，织机；v.隐现，(危险、忧虑等)迫近 | |
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miller
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| n.磨坊主 | |
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7
hearth
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| n.壁炉炉床，壁炉地面 | |
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8
underneath
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| adj.在...下面，在...底下；adv.在下面 | |
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9
recollect
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| v.回忆，想起，记起，忆起，记得 | |
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10
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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11
lighting
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| n.照明，光线的明暗，舞台灯光 | |
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prematurely
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| adv.过早地，贸然地 | |
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13
sleepers
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| n.卧铺（通常以复数形式出现）；卧车( sleeper的名词复数 )；轨枕；睡觉（呈某种状态）的人；小耳环 | |
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14
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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15
gust
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| n.阵风，突然一阵（雨、烟等），（感情的）迸发 | |
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16
serried
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| adj.拥挤的；密集的 | |
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erratic
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| adj.古怪的，反复无常的，不稳定的 | |
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18
munched
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| v.用力咀嚼（某物），大嚼( munch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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19
kit
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| n.用具包，成套工具；随身携带物 | |
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mule
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| n.骡子，杂种，执拗的人 | |
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21
awed
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| adj.充满敬畏的，表示敬畏的v.使敬畏，使惊惧( awe的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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22
hoofs
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| n.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的名词复数 )v.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的第三人称单数 ) | |
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23
soothingly
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| adv.抚慰地，安慰地；镇痛地 | |
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24
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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lone
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| adj.孤寂的，单独的；唯一的 | |
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dweller
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| n.居住者，住客 | |
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ridge
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| n.山脊；鼻梁；分水岭 | |
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28
plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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29
sniffed
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| v.以鼻吸气，嗅，闻( sniff的过去式和过去分词 )；抽鼻子（尤指哭泣、患感冒等时出声地用鼻子吸气）；抱怨，不以为然地说 | |
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30
doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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31
sob
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| n.空间轨道的轰炸机；呜咽，哭泣 | |
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32
anguish
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| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
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crouched
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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34
demonstrations
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| 证明( demonstration的名词复数 )； 表明； 表达； 游行示威 | |
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35
fret
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| v.(使)烦恼；(使)焦急；(使)腐蚀，(使)磨损 | |
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36
kindling
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| n. 点火, 可燃物 动词kindle的现在分词形式 | |
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37
pester
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| v.纠缠，强求 | |
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instinctively
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| adv.本能地 | |
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39
flaring
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| a.火焰摇曳的，过份艳丽的 | |
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40
bridle
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| n.笼头，束缚；vt.抑制，约束；动怒 | |
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41
solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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42
unwillingly
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| adv.不情愿地 | |
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43
solitude
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| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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44
gulf
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| n.海湾；深渊，鸿沟；分歧，隔阂 | |
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45
isolation
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| n.隔离，孤立，分解，分离 | |
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46
prey
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| n.被掠食者，牺牲者，掠食；v.捕食，掠夺，折磨 | |
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47
ledge
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| n.壁架，架状突出物；岩架，岩礁 | |
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48
slaked
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| v.满足( slake的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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49
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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50
wagon
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| n.四轮马车，手推车，面包车；无盖运货列车 | |
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51
penetrated
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| adj. 击穿的，鞭辟入里的 动词penetrate的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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52
wilderness
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| n.杳无人烟的一片陆地、水等，荒漠 | |
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53
sparse
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| adj.稀疏的，稀稀落落的，薄的 | |
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54
sleek
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| adj.光滑的，井然有序的；v.使光滑，梳拢 | |
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55
eerie
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| adj.怪诞的；奇异的；可怕的；胆怯的 | |
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56
inverted
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| adj.反向的，倒转的v.使倒置，使反转( invert的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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57
whittling
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| v.切，削（木头），使逐渐变小( whittle的现在分词 ) | |
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58
melancholy
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| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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59
woolen
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| adj.羊毛(制)的；毛纺的 | |
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60
subdued
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| adj. 屈服的，柔和的，减弱的 动词subdue的过去式和过去分词 | |
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61
enjoyment
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| n.乐趣；享有；享用 | |
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62
jutted
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| v.（使）突出( jut的过去式和过去分词 )；伸出；（从…）突出；高出 | |
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63
bough
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| n.大树枝，主枝 | |
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64
suspense
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| n.（对可能发生的事）紧张感，担心，挂虑 | |
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65
boulders
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| n.卵石( boulder的名词复数 )；巨砾；（受水或天气侵蚀而成的）巨石；漂砾 | |
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66
thump
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| v.重击，砰然地响；n.重击，重击声 | |
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67
erect
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| n./v.树立，建立，使竖立；adj.直立的，垂直的 | |
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68
cavalcade
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| n.车队等的行列 | |
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69
ambushed
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| v.埋伏( ambush的过去式和过去分词 )；埋伏着 | |
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70
ambush
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| n.埋伏(地点)；伏兵；v.埋伏；伏击 | |
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71
tangled
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| adj. 纠缠的，紊乱的 动词tangle的过去式和过去分词 | |
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72
sojourn
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| v./n.旅居，寄居；逗留 | |
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73
shrill
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| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
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74
hustled
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| 催促（hustle的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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75
gilded
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| a.镀金的，富有的 | |
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76
aglow
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| adj.发亮的；发红的；adv.发亮地 | |
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77
sleepless
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| adj.不睡眠的，睡不著的，不休息的 | |
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78
joyously
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| ad.快乐地, 高兴地 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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