It was late, for one thing, before Moak returned from his quest after snow-shoes, and what was worse, he came back empty-handed. He had driven about, over and through the drifted roads, for miles, directed by local rumors3 and surmise4, to one after another of the isolated5 farm-houses scattered7 over the district, but had found no snow-shoes.
He was too cold and stiff, and too much annoyed with the day's experiences, to listen to any further delay, but sat doggedly8 in the sleigh, out on the road in front of the Whipple house, until the deputy marshal, followed by Job, came out to him.
"No, I ain't goin' to get out again, Norm," he said querulously. "I've had enough of this fool's errand. I'm froze solid now in one position, and I'm gittin' used to it. I don't want to climb out and limber up, and then have to freeze stiff all over again in some new shape. Just you give it up for a bad job, and come along. We can get to Octavius by supper-time if we look sharp."
"I never got beat like this before!" growled9 Norman Hazzard, kicking into the crust. "I hate to give up a thing this way. But," he added after a pause, "I s'pose you're right. It is a fool's errand, and I guess we're the fools, sure enough."
With a reluctant sigh he knocked the snow off his boots against the runner, as he was about to step into the sleigh. He seated himself beside Moak, and drew the buffalo-robe up over his breast, and said, "All right, go ahead!"
Moak grinned, in spite of his ill-temper.
"I didn't think it'd be as bad as that, Norm," he chuckled11, "drivin' you clean out of your senses. Why, man, you're goin' away without your overcoat!"
"No. You mind your own business, Moak!" rejoined the deputy marshal, getting one of his shoulders under the robe.
"Shall I run in and get it for you?" suggested Job, half-turning to hasten on the errand.
"You mind your business, too!" said Hazzard, with affected12 roughness, but with an undertone of humane13 meaning which both his hearers caught and comprehended. "And look here, boy, if you and the old man find yourselves in need of help, why, you know where I'm to be found. Meanwhile you'd better take this." He handed something to Job.
Mr. Moak cast a look of hostile suspicion at the urchin14 by the roadside.
"Guess he's more likely to know where Mose Whipple's to be found!" Moak said. Then he drew the reins15 tight with a jerk, gave a loud, emphatic16 cluck to the horse, and the sleigh went dashing southward amid a defiant17 jingling18 of bells.
The boy stood watching till the vehicle had become a mere19 dwindling20 point of blackness on the sunlit waste of snow.
Then he turned his attention to the greenback which the deputy marshal had given him, and looked meditatively21 at the big and significant "5" on its right-hand corner.
When he lifted his eyes again the sleigh had disappeared. The pursuit of poor Mose was at an end.
When the spring of 1864 came slowly up on the bleak22 tablelands skirting the Adirondacks, it found the Whipple homestead undoubtedly23 better off than it had been a year before. Neighbors from Juno Mills who drove by, after the road had settled into usable condition, noticed that the place had been "spruced up," and looked considerably24 more shipshape than it had ever done in Mose's time. There was even a report down at the Corners that old Asa was going to borrow Taft's two-horse cultivator and put in some crops!
People said "old Asa," but every one knew that this rumor2, and all other comments upon the improved appearance and prospects25 of the Whipple place, really referred to young Job. Even in this hard-working and tireless region, accustomed as it has always been to energetic and capable boys, men talked this spring approvingly of what the "Parshall youngster" had done, and bragged26 about having predicted from the start that he had the right stuff in him.
When one comes to set down in words what it was that Job had done, it does not sound very great. He had worked three days a week at the cheese factory, and gone to school the other three days—that is all. But the outcome of this was that April found old Asa Whipple once more, to all outward appearances, a hale and strong man for his years, and revealed the young lad who had adopted him, so to speak, as an enterprising and efficient member of the sparsely27 settled community, who had plans for doing things, and worked like a beaver28, and paid ready money at the Corner grocery store.
When the talk of the neighborhood drifted to the subject of Mose Whipple's desertion and his supposed flight to Canada, it ended usually in the conclusion that old Asa had made a good exchange in getting such an industrious29 and go-ahead chap as Job Parshall in Mose's place.
Asa Whipple and Job were at work in the field across the road from the Whipple house one afternoon in mid-May. Job had come back early from the factory to finish a job upon which he had expended30 all the spare labor31 of a week. There was a patch of land, some rods square, from which he had uprooted32 the black moss33. He had ploughed and fertilized34 it, and sown it with oats.
He had resolved to put this reclaimed35 land to grass later on, and to this end was now dragging across it a heavy tree bough36, old Asa following behind him with a bag of grass seed, which he scattered over the loosened earth as he walked.
Job glanced over his shoulder from time to time to note the uneven37 way in which the old man cast the flying handfuls to one side.
"Seems to me I ain't ever goin' to make a good farmer of you," he said at last, good-naturedly enough, but still with a suggestion of impatience38 in his tone. "You'll see that grass come up all in wads and patches. Open your hand more, and try and scatter6 it regular like. Let me show you again."
The old man stopped, and submissively lent himself afresh to the lesson which Job sought to teach; but at the end he sighed and shook his white head.
"No, I'm too old to learn, Job," he said. "I never was cut out for a farmer, anyway. Besides, what's the use? The black moss'll be all back agin by next spring."
"By that time, if we had good luck with this, we could be keepin' a cow, and p'r'aps a horse to do the work," remonstrated39 the boy. "If I had a horse, I'd knock that moss endwise, or know the reason why."
A noise from the road close behind them attracted their attention. They turned, screening their eyes against the declining sun to see who was seated in the buggy which had halted there across the tumble-down rail fence. Then old Asa pointed40 a lean forefinger41 toward the newcomer.
"That's the reason why!" he said, bitterly.
Job could make out now that it was Elisha Teachout who sat in the buggy. The boy had not seen him since the eventful day of Mose's return and escape, when he had gone over to the big farm-house toward dusk and got his clothes and the money due him. This had not been so easy or pleasant a task that he was rejoiced now to see Mr. Teachout again.
The rich farmer, thinner and yellower and more like a bird of prey42 than ever against the reddening flare43 of sunlight, looked over at the pair with an ugly caricature of a smile on his hard, hairless face.
"I happened to be drivin' past," he called out at last, snapping the shrill44 words forth45 with a kind of malevolent46 enjoyment47, "and I jest thought I'd stop and mention that I'm going to foreclose on this place in four days' time. I've entered judgment48 for one hundred and six dollars and seventy-three cents, countin' interest and all. I jest thought that mebbe you'd like to know. The sheriff'll be on hand here bright and early Monday mornin'. It jest occurred to me to speak of it as I was passin'."
With these mocking words still on the air, Mr. Teachout turned and drove down the road a few yards. A thought occurred to him, and he halted long enough to call out, more shrilly49 than before:—
"That Parshall boy needn't come back and whine50 around my place to be taken back! I won't hev him!" Then he put whip to his horse and was off.
The two workers in the field looked each other in the face for one dumb moment of bewilderment. Then old Asa took the seed-bag off his arm and deliberately51 held it upside down, till the last grain had sifted52 out to the little pile at his feet.
"I don't sow for Elisha Teachout to reap—not if I know myself!" he remarked, grimly.
"Can he do it? Is it as bad as all that?" demanded Job.
Asa nodded his head.
"I s'pose it is," he said. "They ain't no use tryin' to buck53 against a man like him. He's got the money, and that means he's got the law and the sheriff on his side. No, the jig's up. They ain't nothin' for it but for us to git out Monday."
Job had tossed the heavy bough to one side, and walked to the fence, where he was putting on his coat.
"Oh, yes, there is," said he.
"What do you mean, Job?" queried54 the old man, advancing toward him, "what else kin10 we do?"
"Git out before Monday," answered the boy, laconically55.
They walked in silence across the road, and through the front yard to the house, without exchanging further words. Once indoors, they began to empty drawers, clear cupboards and shelves, and gather the portable belongings56 of the household into a heap on the table in the living-room. It was not a long task, and they performed it in silence. It was only when they rested upon its completion that the old man said, with a little quaver in his voice:—
"Almost the last words he spoke57 before he went was, 'And in the spring you must come and be with me in the woods.' Them was his identical words. You remember 'em, don't you, Job?"
The boy nodded assent58.
"We'll kill the chickens—all five of 'em, and roast 'em to-night. They'll keep that way, and they'll see us through the whole tramp. If you'll see to that, I'll sort this stuff over, and see how much of it we really need. We can burn the rest.
"His grandfather and my father," the old man went on, "started here together, both poor men. He's managed it so that he's got everything and I've got nothing. But he can't prevent my bein' an honest man, and I'll go away not beholden to him for a cent. That was one of his chickens that my boy brought me here, when I was sick and pretty nigh starved to death. Very well, I'll leave one chicken in the coop when we go. It sha'n't be on my mind that I owe Elisha Teachout so much as a pinfeather."
Almost nothing was said between them, either then or during the evening, about Mose. Though they were starting to join him in the morning,—turning their backs upon civilization and the haunts of men,—the reserve which through all these months since his disappearance59 they had observed about him and his offence still weighed upon their tongues.
But in the dead watches of the night—this last night to be spent under the Whipple roof—Job woke up, where he lay wrapped in his blanket, and heard old Asa's voice softly murmuring, whether in his sleep or not the boy never knew: "In the spring you must come and be with me in the woods!"
Away in the recesses60 of the forest primeval, in a mountain nook linked by a sparkling band of spring-fed streams and a chain of cascades61 to the silent thoroughfare of the Raquette water, Mose Whipple had chosen his hiding-place, and built for himself a log hut. Thither62 came to him now, after a toilsome three days' journey,—by creek-bed and steep, boulder-strewn ravine, by lonely, placid63, still water, and broad, reed-grown beaver-meadow, where the deer fed unalarmed on the lily pads, and the great tracks of the moose lay on the black mud,—old Asa and Job.
There was an idyllic64 charm in the first few weeks of this reunited life to both father and son. Mose took an excited delight, after months of solitude65, in this new companionship, and in the splendid renewal66 of youth and high spirits which the free life and air of the wilderness67 brought to his father.
Job showed his practical character in fixing up a well-built lean-to at the side of the shanty68, putting a new roof of spruce bark on the whole structure, and constructing a fishing raft to float on the still water up the outlet69.
One day in early July, a chance wanderer in the forest—a Canadian who was looking about with a divining rod for minerals on the mountain range, and who stopped at the shanty overnight—left behind him a month-old copy of a New York weekly newspaper. In this paper, after breakfast, old Asa, sitting out on a log in the sunlight with his pipe, read the horrible story of the three days' fighting—one might say butchery—at Cold Harbor.
Mose and Job had already started out on a fishing excursion to new waters across the divide. When they returned, along toward four o'clock, they found awaiting them one who seemed scarcely recognizable for Asa, so old and bowed had he once more become.
The change was apparent as they entered the clearing, and beheld70 him seated by the doorway71 a full hundred yards away.
"He's had a stroke or something!" Mose exclaimed, and they both started on a run toward him.
As they came up, the old man lifted his head and looked his son in the face, with a glance which the other dimly recalled as belonging to that bitter December day when he had first come home.
"Mose," cried Asa, holding the paper out as he spoke, "it's all wrong! There's no pretendin' it ain't! We've been enjoyin' ourselves here, foolin' ourselves into forgettin', but it's all wrong! There ain't been so much as a word dropped sence the boy and me come here, about this thing, and it seemed as if the whole affair had just slipped our mem'ries—but it won't do. I've been sittin' here ever sence you went away, thinkin' it over—thinkin' hard enough every minute for the whole five months—and it's all wrong. Here, you read this for yourself."
Mose took the paper, and spelt his way through the long, blood-drenched narrative72, without a word. When he had finished he returned his father's glance, with a look of mingled73 comprehension and assent in his eyes.
"All right," he said simply. "I feel the same as you do about it. I'll go!"
Both seemed to feel intuitively that this great resolve, thus formed, could not wait an instant for fulfilment. Hardly another word was spoken until Mose, his pockets filled for the journey and his blanket strapped74, stood ready in front of the cabin, to say good-by.
"It's no good waiting till to-morrow," he said then. "The sooner it's over the better. You can get along first-rate here by yourselves. Job can take in skins and so on, and a mess of trout75 now and then,—he knows the way,—and bring back ammunition76 and your tobacco and so on. You'll be all right."
He paused a moment, and then took from his finger the little rubber ring which Job had restored to him in Teachout's cow-barn months before, and handed it to Asa.
"Here," he said, "that's a kind of keepsake. Good-by, dad. Good-by, Job."
Half an hour or more had elapsed, and Asa still sat on the log by the doorway, his head buried in thought. He could hear the strokes of Job's axe77, from where the boy was cutting firewood for the evening on the edge of the clearing. As they fell on the air with their sharp, metallic78 ring, one after another, the old man's fancy likened them to the deadly noises of the battle-field, whither his boy was making his way.
But he regretted nothing—no, nothing, save that the act of reparation, of atonement, had not been made long before.
There came with abrupt79 suddenness another sound—the unfamiliar80 sound of a stranger's voice addressing him. Asa looked up, rousing himself from his reverie with difficulty. He saw that two men with rods, and fishing baskets, and camping packs on their backs, were standing81 in front of him. Their faces were in the shadow, but he slowly made out the foremost one to be the deputy marshal, Norman Hazzard.
"So here's where you moved to, eh?" the deputy marshal was asking, by way of not unfriendly salutation.
Asa stared hard for a minute at this astonishing apparition82. Then his bewildered tongue found words.
"If you're lookin' for my son," he said proudly, "he's gone back to jine his regiment—to do his duty!"
Hazzard stared in turn. "Gone!" he exclaimed, "when?"
"This very day," rejoined Asa, "not an hour ago. He saw it was right, and he went!"
The deputy marshal threw up his hands in a gesture of despairing amazement83. "Why, man alive!" he cried, "they'll shoot him like a dog!"
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收听单词发音
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1
postponed
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| vt.& vi.延期，缓办，（使）延迟vt.把…放在次要地位；[语]把…放在后面（或句尾）vi.（疟疾等）延缓发作（或复发） | |
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rumor
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| n.谣言，谣传，传说 | |
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rumors
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| n.传闻( rumor的名词复数 )；[古]名誉；咕哝；[古]喧嚷v.传闻( rumor的第三人称单数 )；[古]名誉；咕哝；[古]喧嚷 | |
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surmise
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| v./n.猜想，推测 | |
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isolated
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| adj.与世隔绝的 | |
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scatter
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| vt.撒，驱散，散开；散布/播；vi.分散，消散 | |
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7
scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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doggedly
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| adv.顽强地，固执地 | |
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growled
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| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的过去式和过去分词 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
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kin
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| n.家族，亲属，血缘关系；adj.亲属关系的，同类的 | |
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chuckled
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| 轻声地笑( chuckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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humane
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| adj.人道的，富有同情心的 | |
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urchin
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| n.顽童；海胆 | |
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reins
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| 感情，激情； 缰( rein的名词复数 )； 控制手段； 掌管； （成人带着幼儿走路以防其走失时用的）保护带 | |
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emphatic
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| adj.强调的，着重的；无可置疑的，明显的 | |
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defiant
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| adj.无礼的，挑战的 | |
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jingling
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| 叮当声 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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dwindling
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| adj.逐渐减少的v.逐渐变少或变小( dwindle的现在分词 ) | |
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meditatively
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| adv.冥想地 | |
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bleak
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| adj.(天气)阴冷的；凄凉的；暗淡的 | |
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undoubtedly
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| adv.确实地，无疑地 | |
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considerably
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| adv.极大地；相当大地；在很大程度上 | |
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prospects
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| n.希望，前途(恒为复数) | |
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bragged
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| v.自夸，吹嘘( brag的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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sparsely
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| adv.稀疏地；稀少地；不足地；贫乏地 | |
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beaver
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| n.海狸，河狸 | |
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industrious
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| adj.勤劳的，刻苦的，奋发的 | |
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expended
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| v.花费( expend的过去式和过去分词 )；使用（钱等）做某事；用光；耗尽 | |
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labor
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| n.劳动，努力，工作，劳工；分娩；vi.劳动，努力，苦干；vt.详细分析；麻烦 | |
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32
uprooted
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| v.把（某物）连根拔起( uproot的过去式和过去分词 )；根除；赶走；把…赶出家园 | |
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moss
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| n.苔，藓，地衣 | |
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Fertilized
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| v.施肥( fertilize的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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reclaimed
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| adj.再生的；翻造的；收复的；回收的v.开拓( reclaim的过去式和过去分词 )；要求收回；从废料中回收（有用的材料）；挽救 | |
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bough
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| n.大树枝，主枝 | |
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uneven
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| adj.不平坦的，不规则的，不均匀的 | |
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impatience
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| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
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remonstrated
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| v.抗议( remonstrate的过去式和过去分词 )；告诫 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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forefinger
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| n.食指 | |
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42
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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43
flare
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| v.闪耀，闪烁；n.潮红；突发 | |
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shrill
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| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
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45
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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46
malevolent
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| adj.有恶意的，恶毒的 | |
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47
enjoyment
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| n.乐趣；享有；享用 | |
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48
judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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shrilly
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| 尖声的； 光亮的，耀眼的 | |
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50
whine
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| v.哀号，号哭；n.哀鸣 | |
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51
deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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52
sifted
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| v.筛( sift的过去式和过去分词 )；筛滤；细查；详审 | |
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53
buck
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| n.雄鹿，雄兔；v.马离地跳跃 | |
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54
queried
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| v.质疑，对…表示疑问( query的过去式和过去分词 )；询问 | |
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55
laconically
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| adv.简短地，简洁地 | |
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56
belongings
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| n.私人物品，私人财物 | |
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57
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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58
assent
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| v.批准，认可；n.批准，认可 | |
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disappearance
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| n.消失，消散，失踪 | |
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recesses
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| n.壁凹( recess的名词复数 )；（工作或业务活动的）中止或暂停期间；学校的课间休息；某物内部的凹形空间v.把某物放在墙壁的凹处( recess的第三人称单数 )；将（墙）做成凹形，在（墙）上做壁龛；休息，休会，休庭 | |
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cascades
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| 倾泻( cascade的名词复数 )； 小瀑布（尤指一连串瀑布中的一支）； 瀑布状物； 倾泻（或涌出）的东西 | |
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thither
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| adv.向那里；adj.在那边的，对岸的 | |
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placid
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| adj.安静的，平和的 | |
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idyllic
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| adj.质朴宜人的，田园风光的 | |
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solitude
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| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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renewal
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| adj.(契约)延期，续订，更新，复活，重来 | |
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wilderness
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| n.杳无人烟的一片陆地、水等，荒漠 | |
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shanty
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| n.小屋，棚屋；船工号子 | |
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outlet
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| n.出口/路；销路；批发商店；通风口；发泄 | |
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beheld
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| v.看，注视( behold的过去式和过去分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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narrative
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| n.叙述，故事；adj.叙事的，故事体的 | |
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mingled
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| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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strapped
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| adj.用皮带捆住的，用皮带装饰的；身无分文的；缺钱；手头紧v.用皮带捆扎(strap的过去式和过去分词)；用皮带抽打；包扎；给…打绷带 | |
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trout
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| n.鳟鱼；鲑鱼(属) | |
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ammunition
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| n.军火，弹药 | |
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axe
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| n.斧子；v.用斧头砍，削减 | |
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metallic
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| adj.金属的；金属制的；含金属的；产金属的；像金属的 | |
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abrupt
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| adj.突然的，意外的；唐突的，鲁莽的 | |
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unfamiliar
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| adj.陌生的，不熟悉的 | |
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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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apparition
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| n.幽灵，神奇的现象 | |
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amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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