Rain in Arizona is rare; but when it does come it is the coldest, wettest, slimiest rain in the world. It rains from above, from below, from the side. It dissolves rubber; it takes the heat from fire. Water-tight buildings are mere9 sport for it. It rains in big drops that splash, in fine drizzle10 that penetrates11, in sheets[114] that drench12. The soft rock melts and becomes mud. The dirt dissolves and becomes quicksand. Empty gulches13 become torrents14; small streams become rivers. Even the “Gila monsters,” those slimy, mottled, bottle-eyed, lizard-shaped reptiles15, give up in despair, while mere man has no chance at all for happiness and comfort.
Stephen came back from his work at the hoist16, soaked to the skin, and sick. To add to his discouragement he found orders to work a double shift waiting for him in his tent—the engineer of the eleven o’clock, or “graveyard,” shift being incapacitated. He threw himself down on his cot, cursing the squeak17 of the rusty18 springs. His feet felt like moist lumps of clay. The dampness of his shirt sent a numb19 feeling through his stomach. Lynn, his tent-mate, was on shift, so there was nothing to do but stare at the one ornament20 of the tent, a battered21 tin alarm clock, which, ticking with exasperating22 monotony, hung from the ridge-pole of the tent. The sole reading matter at hand was an old copy of the Denver Post. Stephen knew this almost by heart; but he picked it up and began to reread it.
[115]
“Be a Booster! Get the convention for your city! Don’t go to sleep!”
The words, in flaming red and black headlines, irritated him. Throwing the paper aside, he amused himself by drawing his fingernail along the wet canvas of the tent, and watching the water ooze23 through the weave. Occasionally from outside he could hear the cursing of the coke wagon24 drivers, and the merciless crack of their whips. In his mind he could see almost as well as if he had been outside, the six quivering, straining horses, their haunches worn raw by the traces, the creaking wagon, up to its hubs in mud, and the slipping of the rusty brake shoes.
As he lay there in quiet misery26, with renewed strength the utter hopelessness of his life came to him. It was not so much the thought of the present that crushed, but the knowledge that for years a life like this was all that lay before him. The ride of three odd months ago with Jean Cameron had awakened27 him to visions of things that lay beyond him.
He shivered with cold, and pulled the dirty red blanket up over him. Uncalled for, the thought of the saloon up on the hill came into[116] his mind. He imagined himself leaning against a bar, the edge fitting comfortably into his side, drinking warm drinks, and feeling that life was worth while. He tried to drive the thought away. It was useless.
Jean Cameron for months now had been his idol28, had seemed to him to represent his better self. With an effort he brought her face before him. The vision was all blurred29. Her eyes seemed to look away from him. She seemed intangible, unreal, compared with the comfort which he knew that drink would bring.
“What is the use, anyhow?” he murmured to himself.
He turned irresolutely31 upon his cot, then he jumped up and out onto the floor.
“Oh, damn it, I will!” he exclaimed.
He jammed his hat down over his eyes, struggled into his drenched33 “slicker,” and started out into the muddy road. As he waded34 down to the corral, his boots squashed in sodden35 resentment36.
“I won’t,” he muttered.
But even as he said it, he gave the last[117] turn to the cinch knot, and swung into the saddle.
Moodily38 he rode up the trail. It rained harder than ever. The pony slipped, slid, and scrambled39. Stephen sat in the saddle, stiff as an image. His face was drawn40 with lines that were not pleasant to look upon. The corners of his mouth were drawn hard down, telling of tightly clenched41 teeth.
When he reached the saloon he dismounted, hastily tied his horse to a bush, and went in. In one corner of the shack42 a stove was burning warmly. The pine boards of the flooring were smooth and white.
The bar, which was made of packing boxes covered with oiled cloth, ran the whole length of the room on the right-hand side from the door. At the left-hand side were a couple of small green baize-covered tables. By these were seated several Mexicans, all more or less drunk. They were singing noisily. Along the wall behind the bar ran a shelf which supported a large array of bottles. Behind these, in imitation of the cheap gaudiness43 of a city saloon, was a long, cracked mirror. Two Colt revolvers lying grimly on the shelf gave a delicate[118] hint to guests to behave themselves, and to pay their bills.
The Mexicans looked in a stupid, vacant way at Loring, then went on with their singing. The barkeeper was leaning against the wall, biting the end from a cigar, and at the same time whistling. This accomplishment44 was made possible by the fact that two front teeth were missing. It was rumored45 that in addition to smoking and whistling, he could curse and expectorate, all at the same time.
The possessor of these remarkable46 accomplishments47 greeted Stephen in a friendly fashion. They had often before met in the camp, when Hankins came down from the saloon for supplies.
“Well, now, Mr. Loring, I’m glad to see you. Mean weather out, ain’t it? First time you’ve been up to our diggings, I guess,” he said, while he gripped Stephen’s hand with a crushing grasp.
“Yes, this is the first time I have had a chance to drop in,” rejoined Loring.
Some one rode up to the door, and with heavy tread, and jangling of spurs, came stamping into the saloon.
[119]
“How are you stacking up, Jackie?” asked Hankins of the newcomer. “Say, Mr. Loring, I want you to know my partner; Mr. Jackson, shake hands with Mr. Loring.” The introduction accomplished49, he stepped back behind the bar.
“What are you goin’ to have to drink, gents? This one is on the house.”
“Thanks! Whisky for me, please,” answered Loring.
“Whisky? All right. I have some pretty good stuff here. No more kick to it than from a little lamb. Have some too, Jackie? I thought so.”
Hankins poured the golden fluid into three gray-looking glasses.
The whisky sent a warm glow through his frame.
“That was good,” he said, in a judicial52 tone of voice. “Now won’t you gentlemen take something with me?”
“Well, I don’t care if I do,” answered Hankins.
[120]
The same formula, “Regards,” was repeated.
Loring leaned in comfort against the bar. The attitude, unfortunately, was not strange to him. Time and time again, on Stephen’s invitation, the glasses were refilled, while every now and then Hankins insisted, “One on the house.” After the first two drinks, however, the latter and his partner drank only beer, while Loring continued to drink straight whisky. The other men had one by one departed, so that Loring and his companions were left alone.
Stephen’s face began to burn. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror that hung behind the bar. Somehow the dull-eyed, white face which looked back at him seemed to have no connection with the radiant creature that he felt himself to be.
“What do you say to a little game, gents?”
“By—all—means,” exclaimed Loring, emphasizing each word as if it were the last of the sentence.
Hankins, stooping behind the bar, brought up a pack of cards.
“Here’s an unopened deck,” he said. With queer little side look at his partner, he went[121] on. “I’ll get even with you for our last game, Jackie.”
Stephen, with footsteps that came down very hard, walked over to one of the tables. Then he stopped.
“I—haven’t—got—much—money—here,” he said. He enunciated54 with the heavy, precise diction of a man who knows, but will not believe that he is drunk.
“That’s all right,” said Jackson. “Your I. O. U. goes with us. We ain’t like a boardin’-house keeper I used to know in Los Angeles, who had a sign hung out over his place: ‘We only trust God.’”
“Another whisky, please,” called Stephen to Hankins. He spoke as if a “whisky please” were a special sort of drink.
“A beer for me too,” called Jackson. Hankins brought the drinks on a little tin tray. Before taking each glass from it, he mechanically clicked the bottom against the edge of the tray.
[122]
“Don’t pay now,” drawled Jackson. “Drinks is on the game. Winner shells up for the pleasure he has had.”
Hankins joined them at the table, remarking as he sat down: “What’s the chips wuth?” He nodded assent57 to Stephen’s rather indistinct answer.
“Freeze-out? Play till some one goes broke? Let her drive, Jackie!”
Jackson dealt with rapid precision, emphasizing each round by banging his own card down hard on the table. All looked at their hands, while the dealer58 drawled softly: “Kyards, gents? Kyards—three for you, Mr. Loring?”
For three hours they played. Every little while Hankins rose, and brought more drinks.
“On the game, gents, on the game!” he exclaimed each time.
Sometimes one was ahead, sometimes another, but no one had any decided59 advantage. Stephen played mechanically. The voices of the other men seemed to him far away, and indistinct.
Then the luck changed, and Loring began to win steadily60. His success drew him on. He played recklessly, but by some sport of fate continued[123] to win. He had a stiff smile upon his lips, and was evidently playing blindly.
“Say, Hankie, I guess we are being bitten,” remarked Jackson dryly.
“It sure looks that way. Mr. Loring here is a great player. We didn’t know what we were up against, did we?”
In his maudlin61 condition these words delighted Stephen. With only a pair of threes in his hand he pulled in a stack of chips, on which the others had dropped out.
Hankins was shuffling62, preparatory to his deal. As he twisted the cards in his fingers, he gave a vivid, if immoral63, account of his last trip to Tucson. Loring’s head was swimming, but he caught the words: “She was the stuff all right, all right.”
Suddenly Jackson jumped to his feet, and stood as if listening intently.
“I guess your caballo must be loose, Mr. Loring; seems to me I hear him sort of stamping round outside. Did you hitch64 him tight?”
Loring staggered to the door and looked out. From the blackness came a gust5 of wind and rain that cooled his flushed forehead.
“I think he’s all right. Can’t see anything[124] at all. Must have been wind you heard. Big, big wind outside.”
During his absence from the table, Hankins had dealt. Stephen picked up his cards. At first he could not distinguish them. They seemed to be all a blur30 of color. Then it slowly dawned upon him that he held four kings and a jack48. His head reeled with excitement.
“Any objection to raising limit?” he asked eagerly, with an unconcealed look of triumph upon his face.
“Wa-al, of course, if you want to, we’ll come along, just to make the game interesting,” drawled Jackson; “I guess you have us stung all right. Only one card for you? Gawd, you must have a fat hand!”
Loring kept raising and raising, until he reached the limit of all that he owned in the world. Then, for drunk or sober, he was no man to bet what he did not have, he called. Throwing his cards face upwards65 upon the table, he reached unsteadily for the huge pile of chips.
“F-Four kings!” he shouted exultantly66. “I—think—they are good.”
“‘It seems like as if you was bitten, Mr. Loring,’ said Hankins.” Page 125
Jackson looked at Stephen’s half-shut eyes,[125] at the heavy way his elbow rested on the table, and smiled. Then with a broad wink67 at Hankins, he exclaimed.
“It seems like as if you was bitten, Mr. Loring,” said Hankins. “Great game that was. Well, gents, have another drink now on the house.”
Stephen, in a dazed manner, took his drink, then dimly there came into his mind his orders to work night shift.
“What—whatsh the time?” he asked.
“It’s close to ten,” answered Jackson.
The faint idea kept crawling in Loring’s mind: “Night shift, hoist, must go.” He plunged68 out into the darkness, and tried to drag himself into the saddle.
When he had gone the two other men roared with laughter.
“That was easy,” exclaimed Jackson, “but I guess we had better look after him a bit now, or he will be in trouble.” They went out after Stephen, and found him still trying to climb into the saddle. Each time that he tried, he almost succeeded, then he swayed, and fell back onto[126] the muddy ground. The pony, under these unusual proceedings69, was growing restive70. They lifted Stephen onto the horse. He lurched, and almost fell off on the other side.
“Easy now. You’re all right,” said Jackson.
Taking the pony by the bridle71 he led him into the saloon. With Loring swaying in the saddle, the horse walked listlessly up to the bar, while Hankins playfully pulled his tail.
“Great pony, that, Mr. Loring; he knows a good place, all right. He’ll take you down the trail fine as can be. He’s a wise one, for sure.”
“Look out for your head, Mr. Loring! That’s good. á Dios—good night!”
From the trail Loring’s voice carried back. He was singing at the top of his lungs.
“Full right up to his ears!” ejaculated Hankins. “I hope he don’t fall off and break his neck.”
Meanwhile the faithful little horse trudged73 steadily down the trail, carrying his helpless master. There are few Arizona horses which do not understand the symptoms indicated by a limp[127] weight in the saddle, and meaningless tugs74 on the bridle.
The camp, save for the flare75 by the smelter, was unlit. The pony went straight to the corral, past all the dark, silent tents and shacks76. The sound of the hoof-beats echoed very clearly in the stillness. At the corral Loring tried to dismount, and fell from the saddle hard. The shock roused his consciousness.
“Must be near ’leven. What, what wash I going—going to do at ’leven? Oh, yes. Hoist, extra shift.” Leaving the poor pony standing77 still saddled in the rain, he started up the hill for the hoist.
“I guess I must be—a bit—tight,” he thought.
The world began to whirl, to drop suddenly, to rise, to twist. He bit his lips and pressed his knuckles79 hard against his temples.
“Must sober up!” he kept repeating to himself.
Sweat broke out all over him. He became ghastly ill. Lying at full length in the muddy[128] road, before the steps, he did not notice the rain that beat down upon him. Gradually he began to lose consciousness.
The whistle blew dull and discordant80 for the eleven o’clock shift.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
mired
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| abbr.microreciprocal degree 迈尔德（色温单位）v.深陷( mire的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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2
reeking
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| v.发出浓烈的臭气( reek的现在分词 )；散发臭气；发出难闻的气味 (of sth)；明显带有（令人不快或生疑的跡象） | |
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ponies
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| 矮种马，小型马( pony的名词复数 )； ￡25 25 英镑 | |
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miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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gust
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| n.阵风，突然一阵（雨、烟等），（感情的）迸发 | |
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rattle
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| v.飞奔，碰响；激怒；n.碰撞声；拨浪鼓 | |
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relentless
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| adj.残酷的，不留情的，无怜悯心的 | |
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irritable
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| adj.急躁的；过敏的；易怒的 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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drizzle
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| v.下毛毛雨；n.毛毛雨，蒙蒙细雨 | |
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11
penetrates
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| v.穿过( penetrate的第三人称单数 )；刺入；了解；渗透 | |
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12
drench
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| v.使淋透，使湿透 | |
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13
gulches
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| n.峡谷( gulch的名词复数 ) | |
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14
torrents
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| n.倾注；奔流( torrent的名词复数 )；急流；爆发；连续不断 | |
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15
reptiles
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| n.爬行动物，爬虫( reptile的名词复数 ) | |
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16
hoist
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| n.升高，起重机，推动；v.升起，升高，举起 | |
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17
squeak
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| n.吱吱声，逃脱；v.（发出）吱吱叫，侥幸通过；（俚）告密 | |
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18
rusty
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| adj.生锈的；锈色的；荒废了的 | |
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numb
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| adj.麻木的，失去感觉的；v.使麻木 | |
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20
ornament
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| v.装饰，美化；n.装饰，装饰物 | |
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21
battered
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| adj.磨损的；v.连续猛击；磨损 | |
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22
exasperating
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| adj. 激怒的 动词exasperate的现在分词形式 | |
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23
ooze
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| n.软泥，渗出物；vi.渗出，泄漏；vt.慢慢渗出，流露 | |
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24
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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25
aces
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| abbr.adjustable convertible-rate equity security (units) 可调节的股本证券兑换率；aircraft ejection seat 飞机弹射座椅；automatic control evaluation simulator 自动控制评估模拟器n.擅长…的人( ace的名词复数 )；精于…的人；（ 网球 ）（对手接不到发球的）发球得分；爱司球 | |
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26
misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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27
awakened
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| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
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28
idol
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| n.偶像，红人，宠儿 | |
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29
blurred
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| v.（使）变模糊( blur的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）难以区分；模模糊糊；迷离 | |
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30
blur
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| n.模糊不清的事物；vt.使模糊，使看不清楚 | |
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31
irresolutely
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| adv.优柔寡断地 | |
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32
irresolute
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| adj.无决断的，优柔寡断的，踌躇不定的 | |
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33
drenched
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| adj.湿透的；充满的v.使湿透( drench的过去式和过去分词 )；在某人（某物）上大量使用（某液体） | |
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34
waded
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| （从水、泥等）蹚，走过，跋( wade的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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35
sodden
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| adj.浑身湿透的；v.使浸透；使呆头呆脑 | |
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36
resentment
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| n.怨愤，忿恨 | |
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37
pony
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| adj.小型的；n.小马 | |
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38
moodily
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| adv.喜怒无常地；情绪多变地；心情不稳地；易生气地 | |
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39
scrambled
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| v.快速爬行( scramble的过去式和过去分词 )；攀登；争夺；（军事飞机）紧急起飞 | |
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40
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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41
clenched
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| v.紧握，抓紧，咬紧( clench的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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42
shack
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| adj.简陋的小屋，窝棚 | |
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43
gaudiness
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| n.华美，俗丽的美 | |
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44
accomplishment
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| n.完成，成就，（pl.）造诣，技能 | |
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45
rumored
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| adj.传说的，谣传的v.传闻( rumor的过去式和过去分词 )；[古]名誉；咕哝；[古]喧嚷 | |
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46
remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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47
accomplishments
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| n.造诣；完成( accomplishment的名词复数 )；技能；成绩；成就 | |
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48
jack
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| n.插座，千斤顶，男人；v.抬起，提醒，扛举；n.（Jake）杰克 | |
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49
accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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50
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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51
gulp
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| vt.吞咽，大口地吸（气）；vi.哽住；n.吞咽 | |
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52
judicial
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| adj.司法的，法庭的，审判的，明断的，公正的 | |
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53
juncture
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| n.时刻，关键时刻，紧要关头 | |
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54
enunciated
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| v.（清晰地）发音( enunciate的过去式和过去分词 )；确切地说明 | |
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55
shuffle
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| n.拖著脚走，洗纸牌；v.拖曳，慢吞吞地走 | |
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56
fumbled
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| （笨拙地）摸索或处理（某事物）( fumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 乱摸，笨拙地弄； 使落下 | |
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57
assent
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| v.批准，认可；n.批准，认可 | |
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58
dealer
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| n.商人，贩子 | |
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59
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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60
steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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61
maudlin
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| adj.感情脆弱的，爱哭的 | |
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62
shuffling
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| adj. 慢慢移动的, 滑移的 动词shuffle的现在分词形式 | |
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63
immoral
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| adj.不道德的，淫荡的，荒淫的，有伤风化的 | |
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64
hitch
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| v.免费搭(车旅行)；系住；急提；n.故障；急拉 | |
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65
upwards
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| adv.向上，在更高处...以上 | |
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66
exultantly
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| adv.狂欢地，欢欣鼓舞地 | |
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67
wink
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| n.眨眼，使眼色，瞬间；v.眨眼，使眼色，闪烁 | |
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68
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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69
proceedings
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| n.进程，过程，议程；诉讼(程序)；公报 | |
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70
restive
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| adj.不安宁的，不安静的 | |
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71
bridle
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| n.笼头，束缚；vt.抑制，约束；动怒 | |
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72
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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73
trudged
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| vt.& vi.跋涉，吃力地走（trudge的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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74
tugs
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| n.猛拉( tug的名词复数 )；猛拖；拖船v.用力拉，使劲拉，猛扯( tug的第三人称单数 ) | |
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75
flare
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| v.闪耀，闪烁；n.潮红；突发 | |
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76
shacks
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| n.窝棚，简陋的小屋( shack的名词复数 ) | |
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77
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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78
deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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79
knuckles
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| n.（指人）指关节( knuckle的名词复数 )；（指动物）膝关节，踝v.（指人）指关节( knuckle的第三人称单数 )；（指动物）膝关节，踝 | |
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80
discordant
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| adj.不调和的 | |
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