And walled about by the wildest and most impenetrably blackly dark solitudes4. She had but the one impulse; to flee from this man whose fellows termed him a wolf; but the one clear thought, that she must hasten in search of the very man from whom originally she had fled, Jim Taggart. For, since Bruce Standing5 had not been killed by that shot fired in her room at the Gallup House, she, like Babe Deveril, was no longer threatened with the most serious charge of murder. Let Taggart place her under arrest; let him take her back into the region of towns and stages and lamp-lit homes; let him accuse her. Suddenly it seemed to her, wearied with endless exertion6 and privation and nervous tension, that there could be no peace greater than that of being taken back and placed in custody7 in Big Pine!
Now she had to guide her but a general, a very vague, sense of direction. It was so absolutely dark! There were stars, but they seemed little sparks of cold distant light, blurred8 and almost lost beyond the tops of the pines. Standing had led her after him, on his way to his lower cabin, down the gentle slope. Yes; she knew the general direction. And the distance? She had little impression of the distance between these two aloof9
[Pg 220]
lairs of Timber-Wolf; half a mile or two miles, she did not know. She would go on and on, seeking a way among the trees; on and on and on, stumbling in the dark. Then, after a while, she would call; call and call again, praying that Taggart and the others were lurking10 somewhere within ear-shot; that they would hear and come to her ... and place her under arrest! And she wondered, as she had done so many a time to-day, where was Babe Deveril? Was he near? Would he, by any chance, hear her? Would he, too, come to her? And, then, what?
She began hastening on; to be farther from him, though that meant to come at every step nearer Jim Taggart and Young Gallup and that other man with the hawk11 face. She could not be absolutely certain that the direction she set her course by would ever lead her to the lower cabin; but on one point she was assured: at every step she was getting farther from wolf-man and wolf-dog. What a brute12, what a beast he was! And yet ... and yet.... There swept across her, like a clean, cold wind out of the north, a sudden appreciation13 of those finer qualities of manhood which his nature and his fate had allowed to dwell on in that anomaly, Bruce Standing. His absolute honesty, itself like a north wind, was not to be gainsaid14 even by his bitterest enemy; his courage, in any woman's eyes, was invested with sheer nobility. How he had befriended poor little Mexicali Joe; how, to-night for the second time, though handicapped by his wound, he had gone to Joe's relief; how he, one against three, had had his way, like a lion among curs. Wolf or lion?... And, finally, she abode15 wonderingly on that queer, distorted chivalry16 which resided in the heart of him, his brutally17 chivalrous18 way with her. For, no matter how harsh and bitter his tongue had been and no matter how hard his eye, he
[Pg 221]
had not harmed her; when his hands had been like steel upon hers, commanding her while he jeered19 at her, they had not once so much as bruised20 her soft skin. In no way had he harmed her while it had been at his command, had he desired, to harm her in all ways.... She thought of being alone with any man like Taggart or Gallup or that hawk-faced hanger-on of theirs ... and shuddered21. Even Babe Deveril; he had looked at her last night, insinuating22.... She remembered how Bruce Standing, rushing down upon them, had thrown his own rifle away to grapple with Deveril, man to man and no odds23 stolen; she would never forget the picture of him with his axe24, attacking the jail and defying the law.... Her mind raced, her thoughts switched into a new groove25: how he had set her free just now and tossed her the revolver....
And then came the most vivid picture of all, the latest one, that of Bruce Standing glaring at her just before she ran out of the cabin. A second time she came to a sudden stop. He had looked like a man dying! Too proud, with that vainglorious26 pride of his, to have her, a girl, watch him, a man, die. Too unyieldingly proud and defiant27 to have her, a weakling, look on while he, the strongest man she had ever glimpsed, yielded in anything, if even to death itself. What a man he was! A man wrong-minded, maybe; a man who overrode28 others and bore them down; a man who set up his own standards, such as they were, and battled for them wholeheartedly. Even in the matter of high-handed robbery ... he had robbed Babe Deveril of three thousand dollars, and yet voluntarily, when he was ready to make restitution29 and not before, he had returned the full amount, estimating in his own way that he had merely borrowed it! There was the man disclosed; one who made his own laws, and yet who abode by them as
[Pg 222]
loyally and as unswervingly as a true priest may abide30 by God's....
And he had looked like a man dying. She turned her head. The door of his cabin was still wide open, as she had left it; light, though failing, still gushed31 out. She told herself that it was only a natural curiosity, surely her sex's most irrefutable prerogative32, that made her turn and look. She caught no sight of him; he was not striding up and down. And he had not come outside for his fallen rifle....
Her breast rose and fell to a deep sigh. Of relief, perhaps; perhaps for another emotion. Still she remained where she was, pondering. Which way lay the path to the other cabin, where Taggart and Gallup and the other man were? And what was Bruce Standing doing? He had named her "Liar33!" He did not believe when she had cried out passionately35: "I did not shoot you!" Darting36 considerations, flashing through her consciousness. The one question was: "Was Bruce Standing mortally wounded?" Shot in the back a second time; he had as much as told her that.
Babe Deveril was what the world names a ladies' man. Bruce Standing was a man's man. And the strange part of it is that the feminine soul is drawn37 to the man's man inevitably38 more urgently than to the ladies' man....
And all the while Lynette was saying to herself: "He is a brute and a beast and yet ... he has not harmed me once and he has set me free and there is some good in him and ... and he may be dying! Alone."
She had turned her head to look back; now, hesitatingly, her whole body turned. Slowly, silently, she retraced39 her steps. She came closer and closer to the hidden cabin; the light outlining the open door grew fainter, dimmer as the fire died down; she heard no sound; she
[Pg 223]
caught no glimpse of a man within. She drew still closer; she heard the strange whining40 of his dog. Even Thor she could not see until, lingering at every step, she came close to the door. Then she saw both, the man on his back, his lax hand on the floor; the dog whining, distressed41, licking the hand one instant and then looking wistfully into the master's face. A face bloodlessly white, save for one smear42 of blood, where a hand had sought to wipe his eyes clear of a gathering43 film.
Hesitating no longer, she stepped across the threshold. Thor looked at her and broke into a new whining, a note of sudden joyousness44 in it. Standing did not hear and did not know that she had returned; his eyes were shut and there was the pulse as of distant seas in his ears. She hurried to the fireplace and tossed into it the last of the wood he had gathered; then she came swiftly to where he lay. Her heart was beating wildly....
She saw that his jaw45 was set, hard and stubborn. She stood, uncertain, troubled, half regretful that she had come back, hence half of a mind to go hurriedly. But she did not stir for a long time, and then only to come the last step closer. His eyes flew open; he looked up at her. And, as the fire she had freshly piled blazed higher, she saw a sudden flash of his eyes ... whether the reflection of the fire or the flash of the spirit within him, she could not tell.
"I thought you'd gone," he said. He sat up; it was a struggle for him to do so, yet here was a man who made of all his life a struggle and who thought nothing of a trifling46 victory over either nature itself or his fellow man.
"You have been cruel...."
He mocked her with his haggard eyes.
"That," she ran on swiftly, "is what you expected me to say to you, Bruce Standing, that you have been
[Pg 224]
cruel! And, what I came back to say is: 'You have been good to me!'"
She had not meant to say anything of the kind. But when she looked into his eyes, when she saw the clear-as-crystal soul of him, a soul as simple as a child's and ... yes!... as clean; and when she remembered how she had ridden all day long while he had walked, and how he had steadfastly47 refused to so much as harm a hair of her head, the words gushed forth48.
He eyed her queerly; suspicion in his look and confusion. She could have laughed out aloud suddenly, since her whole emotional being was aquiver; for he, Timber-Wolf, like his own wolf-dog, Thor, distrusted her and regarded her with fierce eyes and yet ... and yet....
"Your wound has not been dressed since morning," she said quietly. "And now you've got yourself another wound. I am going to help you with them."
His slave.... He had commanded her once to help him with his wound.... But his slave no longer, since he himself had set her free! Yet here she was, saying that she stood ready to help him care for his wounds. More, already she was getting warm water, and his old piece of castile soap ... she was rolling up her sleeves....
He glared at her through a mist. He could be sure of nothing, since it seemed to him that she was half smiling! A tender, wistful sort of smile ... as if she had it in her heart to forget injuries done, to forgive him who had done them, and to succor49 him now that there was little of man-strength left in his body.... Curse her! What right had she to forgive, to look at a man that way? He had asked nothing from her, save that she leave him....
He stirred uneasily. Had she smiled? In this
[Pg 225]
uncertain light one could be certain of nothing; the flickering50 of the wood fire, casting quick-racing little shadows, breaking into their play with sudden warm, rosy51 gleamings, made it impossible for him to know if she had smiled, or if that semblance52 of a smile were but the effect of shifting lights. He held himself rigid53, his back to the wall now, his right hand clinched54 on his knee.
"When I am in need of your help ... you who shot me...."
She came to him unafraid; she set down the can of warm water on the floor; she began unbuttoning the neck of his shirt. He threw up his hand, the right, hard-clinched, as though he would strike her in the face; but he let the hand fall back to his side. She heard a great sigh.
"I told you once," she said quietly, "that I did not shoot you. And I am no more liar than you are, Bruce Standing."
He cursed himself for a fool; he was tired and weak and dizzy; his mind was the abode of confusions; he no longer knew what was fact and what illusion. One thing alone he did know, a marvellous thing; there was in her low voice the ring of utter honesty when she said: "I did not shoot you!" ... Liars55; all her sex, waging their weak wars from ambush56, holding their place in the world through seduction and deceit, all were liars. And yet she troubled him, and with that voice and those eyes she bred uncertainty57 on top of uncertainty in his uncertain soul. Her steady fingers were unbuttoning his collar....
"Then why," he muttered, jeering58 and challenging, "did you run as you did after the shot? And how, since you and I were alone in the room...."
"The window was open! Under it was the table, my pistol where I had dropped it on the table. You turned
[Pg 226]
your back; I was going to jump out the window and run because for the moment I was afraid! But some one, some man, was there; I saw his hand; it caught up the pistol. It was he who shot you in the back! And when he dropped the pistol back to the table...."
Again he demanded fiercely:
"But you ran ... why? And with the gun in your hand! Why? Why, girl, if you are not lying to me?"
"Haven't I told you?" Suddenly she was aflame with passionate34 vehemence59. "I was frightened; ready to run; keyed up to run! There came that shot, and you were hit; I thought you were killed! It flashed over me that I would be suspected and all evidence would point to me and I would be convicted of murder! Cowardly murder!... One does not think at such a time; there is only the rush of instinct and impulse. I was all ready to run; I had no time to think...."
"But you had the revolver in your hand as you went through the window!"
"Impulse and instinct, I tell you!" she cried. "Instinct to flee; and to snatch at the first weapon for protection, even though it was the weapon that had just shot you! I was a fool, maybe; and maybe by acting60 as I did I saved my own life!"
He was looking up into her face queerly; she saw the savage61 gathering of his brows; with all his might he strove for clear vision and clear thought. With a new, terrible keenness, he fixed62 his eyes upon her; then he said deliberately63: "Liar!"
He saw the flash of her eyes, the angry set of her mouth; her hands were clinched now, and for a moment it was he who believed that he was to be struck full across the face. And thereupon his own eyes brightened; this girl did not speak like a liar; she did not carry
[Pg 227]
herself like one; she had yet to show the first streak64 of yellow which is in the warp65 and woof of lying souls.
But Lynette curbed66 her quick temper and said only:
"You have no right to call me that; my word is as good as your word, Bruce Standing. Had I shot you I should not have waited for you to turn your back. One thing I did do for which I was sorry even while I did it, and ashamed; I laughed at you even while I sympathized with your anger against a man who, to be little and mean, could have your horse killed. And it was not at you that I laughed, after all ... there come times when I can't help laughing, though there is nothing to laugh at ... it was the shock, I think ... the incongruousness, to hear you...."
She ended there, sparing him any further reference to his lisping of which he was so desperately67 ashamed; once more she began working at his collar.... And again there came into the blue eyes of Bruce Standing a flash as of blue fire, though he hid it from her; and a sudden great, utterly68 mysterious gladness blossomed magically. For, though he did not understand and though he would never rest until he did understand, yet already he began to believe that this girl with the fearless look spoke69 the truth! And this, because of the ring of her voice and the tip of her head, erect70 on its white throat, and the flash of her own eyes, as though the spirit of man and maid had struck fire, one from the other.
"If you'll help me ..." said Lynette. "If you can sit a little bit forward?... Your shirt will have to be torn or cut; I can't get to your shoulder otherwise...."
He put up his right hand; as he jerked vigorously there was the sound of tearing and ripping; he thrust the cloth down from the left side and laid bare his great chest and the powerfully muscled left shoulder and upper arm. Lynette shuddered; he had lost so much blood!
[Pg 228]
And against the smooth perfect whiteness of his healthy skin the blood was so emphasized. She found the new wound....
"Shot in the back ... twice shot in the back," she said, and again she shivered. "And you don't know who shot you either time?"
"I have my own idea about both," he said curtly71. And had nothing to add.
With the warm water and soap she cleansed72 the fresh wound and then the older one. Then, with gentle fingers, she did as he bade her with Billy Winch's salve, applying it generously.
When the thing was done they looked at each other strangely; man and maid in the wild-wood, with much lying between them, with each asking swift unanswerable questions, with the night in the solitudes advancing.
"It's a strange thing that you came back," said Standing.
"Where better had I to go?"
"I told you that Taggart and his friends were down there. You might have found them."
She turned from him abruptly73 and went back to the fireplace; he could see only the curve of her cheek and a curl and her shoulder.
"I have no greater liking74 for Sheriff Taggart than you have," she said.
He wanted to see her face, but she was stubborn in refusing to turn. He said curiously75:
"Your friend, Baby Devil, ought to be overhauling76 them before long! If you think he decided77 to come this way?"
She did not answer. He began to grow angry with her for that; for refusing to reply when he spoke; for refusing to discuss Babe Deveril. But he kept a shut mouth, though with the effort his jaws78 bulged79. He
[Pg 229]
began feeling in his pocket for pipe and tobacco; he felt the need of it....
He would have sworn that she had not looked and could not have seen, but when he struggled over the difficulty of doing everything with one hand she whirled and came forward impulsively80 and finished the task for him, packing the tobacco into the black bowl of his pipe and handing him a lighted splinter from the fire.
He muttered something; she had gone back to her place at the fire and did not know whether his muttering was of thanks or curses; her attitude would have seemed to imply that either would find her indifferent. He smoked slowly; the strong tobacco, sharp and acrid81, did him good; a man of steady nerve, he had come to a point where his nerves needed steadying; just now he wanted silence and his pipe and time to grope for certain readjustments. Sweeping82 in all his ways was Bruce Standing; in building up, tearing down, building up again; and always with him was the sheerest joy in building up.... And Lynette, for the first time in many hours, experienced a moment of bright happiness.
He knocked out the ashes of his pipe, rapping the black bowl sharply against his boot heel. Heavily he got to his feet. From the bunk83 he dragged a blanket tossing it on the floor in a corner by the fireplace. Obviously he was intending it for his bed....
"You must lie on the bunk," she cried impulsively. "You are worse hurt than you seem to know. In any case, I give you my word I'll not use it!"
"Why should I care what you do, girl?" he demanded, staring at her fiercely. "The bunk is there; take it or leave it."
Defiantly84 she snatched up a second blanket and folded it into the opposite corner, sitting down on it with her feet tucked under her, beginning swiftly to rebraid her
[Pg 230]
loose hair. He turned from her to lie down. But since he had chosen the corner which he had, and since because of his wounds he was forced to lie on his right side, he faced toward her. She appeared not to notice him, having brooding eyes only for the fire; and yet she had had her clear view of his haggard face. Thor came to lie close to his master's feet.
There were three blankets. Lynette, only asking herself curiously what explosion of wrath85 she might bring upon herself, rose and went for the third, and, without saying anything, spread it over Standing. He looked at her amazed. But he did not speak. Instead, after the briefest of hesitations86, he floundered to his feet, set one boot heel upon the edge of the blanket while in his good hand he gripped a corner; with one sudden effort he ripped the blanket fairly in two. He tramped across the small room and dropped half by her side; he went back to his own corner and lay down, dragging the other fragment up over his shoulders, like a shawl....
Lynette was tired almost to the end of endurance; further, this night had been no less a tax upon her than had the other nights. Now, suddenly, she burst into that inimitable laughter of hers, sounding as light and gay and mirthful as the laugh of a delighted child....
"Behold87! The acme88 of politeness!" she cried merrily. "A perfectly89 good bunk and the two travellers going to sleep on the floor!"
He stared at her unsmilingly for a long time.
"I haven't thanked you, girl, for what you've done for me to-night. I am not without gratitude90, but I'm no man for pretty speeches, I am afraid. At any rate here's this: I came hunting a cowardly sneak91 of a she-cat and I found a true sport. And I think I'm done with making war on you!... Unless...."
"Unless ... what?" asked Lynette.
[Pg 231]
But he was lying back now, his eyes closed. He did not appear to have heard. She, too, lay down with a little weary sigh. Her last thoughts were three; they mingled92 and grew confused as all thoughts faded. But before they blurred they were these: Bruce Standing had dropped his rifle outside and had not gone out for it; Babe Deveril had not returned for her, but no doubt was still seeking her; and Bruce Standing was done making war on her, unless....
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1
abruptness
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| n. 突然，唐突 | |
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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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yelping
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| v.发出短而尖的叫声( yelp的现在分词 ) | |
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4
solitudes
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| n.独居( solitude的名词复数 )；孤独；荒僻的地方；人迹罕至的地方 | |
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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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exertion
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| n.尽力，努力 | |
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custody
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| n.监护，照看，羁押，拘留 | |
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8
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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aloof
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| adj.远离的；冷淡的，漠不关心的 | |
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lurking
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| 潜在 | |
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hawk
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| n.鹰，骗子；鹰派成员 | |
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brute
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| n.野兽，兽性 | |
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appreciation
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| n.评价；欣赏；感谢；领会，理解；价格上涨 | |
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14
gainsaid
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| v.否认，反驳( gainsay的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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abode
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| n.住处，住所 | |
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chivalry
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| n.骑士气概，侠义；（男人）对女人彬彬有礼，献殷勤 | |
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brutally
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| adv.残忍地，野蛮地，冷酷无情地 | |
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chivalrous
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| adj.武士精神的；对女人彬彬有礼的 | |
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jeered
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| v.嘲笑( jeer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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bruised
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| [医]青肿的，瘀紫的 | |
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shuddered
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| v.战栗( shudder的过去式和过去分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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insinuating
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| adj.曲意巴结的，暗示的v.暗示( insinuate的现在分词 )；巧妙或迂回地潜入；（使）缓慢进入；慢慢伸入 | |
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23
odds
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| n.让步，机率，可能性，比率；胜败优劣之别 | |
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axe
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| n.斧子；v.用斧头砍，削减 | |
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groove
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| n.沟，槽；凹线，（刻出的）线条，习惯 | |
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vainglorious
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| adj.自负的；夸大的 | |
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defiant
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| adj.无礼的，挑战的 | |
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overrode
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| 越控( override的过去式 )； （以权力）否决； 优先于； 比…更重要 | |
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restitution
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| n.赔偿；恢复原状 | |
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abide
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| vi.遵守；坚持；vt.忍受 | |
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gushed
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| v.喷，涌( gush的过去式和过去分词 )；滔滔不绝地说话 | |
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prerogative
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| n.特权 | |
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liar
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| n.说谎的人 | |
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passionate
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
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passionately
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| ad.热烈地，激烈地 | |
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darting
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| v.投掷，投射( dart的现在分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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inevitably
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| adv.不可避免地；必然发生地 | |
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retraced
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| v.折回( retrace的过去式和过去分词 )；回忆；回顾；追溯 | |
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40
whining
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| n. 抱怨，牢骚 v. 哭诉，发牢骚 | |
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distressed
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| 痛苦的 | |
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42
smear
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| v.涂抹；诽谤，玷污；n.污点；诽谤，污蔑 | |
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43
gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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44
joyousness
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| 快乐，使人喜悦 | |
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45
jaw
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| n.颚，颌，说教，流言蜚语；v.喋喋不休，教训 | |
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46
trifling
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| adj.微不足道的；没什么价值的 | |
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steadfastly
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| adv.踏实地，不变地；岿然；坚定不渝 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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succor
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| n.援助，帮助；v.给予帮助 | |
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flickering
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| adj.闪烁的，摇曳的，一闪一闪的 | |
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rosy
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| adj.美好的，乐观的，玫瑰色的 | |
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semblance
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| n.外貌，外表 | |
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rigid
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| adj.严格的，死板的；刚硬的，僵硬的 | |
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clinched
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| v.（尤指两人）互相紧紧抱[扭]住( clinch的过去式和过去分词 )；解决（争端、交易），达成（协议） | |
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liars
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| 说谎者( liar的名词复数 ) | |
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ambush
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| n.埋伏(地点)；伏兵；v.埋伏；伏击 | |
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uncertainty
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| n.易变，靠不住，不确知，不确定的事物 | |
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jeering
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| adj.嘲弄的，揶揄的v.嘲笑( jeer的现在分词 ) | |
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vehemence
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| n.热切；激烈；愤怒 | |
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acting
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| n.演戏，行为，假装；adj.代理的，临时的，演出用的 | |
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savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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streak
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| n.条理，斑纹，倾向，少许，痕迹；v.加条纹，变成条纹，奔驰，快速移动 | |
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warp
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| vt.弄歪，使翘曲，使不正常，歪曲，使有偏见 | |
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curbed
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| v.限制，克制，抑制( curb的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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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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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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curtly
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| adv.简短地 | |
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cleansed
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| 弄干净，清洗( cleanse的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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liking
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| n.爱好；嗜好；喜欢 | |
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curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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overhauling
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| n.大修；拆修；卸修；翻修v.彻底检查( overhaul的现在分词 )；大修；赶上；超越 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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jaws
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| n.口部；嘴 | |
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bulged
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| 凸出( bulge的过去式和过去分词 )； 充满； 塞满（某物） | |
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impulsively
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| adv.冲动地 | |
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acrid
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| adj.辛辣的，尖刻的，刻薄的 | |
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sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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83
bunk
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| n.(车、船等倚壁而设的)铺位；废话 | |
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defiantly
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| adv.挑战地，大胆对抗地 | |
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85
wrath
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| n.愤怒，愤慨，暴怒 | |
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86
hesitations
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| n.犹豫( hesitation的名词复数 )；踌躇；犹豫（之事或行为）；口吃 | |
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behold
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| v.看，注视，看到 | |
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acme
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| n.顶点，极点 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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gratitude
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| adj.感激，感谢 | |
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sneak
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| vt.潜行(隐藏,填石缝)；偷偷摸摸做；n.潜行；adj.暗中进行 | |
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92
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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