The next afternoon, after the day's writing and prospecting1 were finished, Bennington resolved to go deer hunting. He had skipped thirteen chapters of his work to describe the heroine, Rhoda. She had wonderful eyes, and was, I believe, dressed in a garment whose colour was pink.
"Keep yore moccasins greased," Old Mizzou advised at parting; by which he meant that the young man was to step softly.
This he found to be difficult. His course lay along the top of the ridge2 where the obstructions3 were many. There were outcrops, boulders4, ravines, broken twigs5, old leaves, and dikes, all of which had to be surmounted8 or avoided. They were all aggravating9, but the dikes possessed10 some intellectual interest which the others lacked.
A dike7, be it understood, is a hole in the earth made visible. That is to say, in old days, when mountains were much loftier than they are now, various agencies brought it to pass that they split and cracked and yawned down to the innermost cores of their being in such hideous11 fashion that chasms12 and holes of great depth and perpendicularity13 were opened in them. Thereupon the interior fires were released, and these, vomiting14 up a vast supply of molten material, filled said chasms and holes to the very brim. The molten material cooled into fire-hardened rock. The rains descended15 and the snows melted. Under their erosive influence the original mountains were cut down somewhat, but the erstwhile molten material, being, as we have said, fire-hardened, wasted very little, or not at all, and, as a consequence, stands forth16 above its present surroundings in exact mould of the ancient cracks or holes.
Now, some dikes are long and narrow, others are short and wide, and still others are nearly round. All, however, are highest points, and, head and shoulders above the trees, look abroad over the land.
When Bennington came to one of these dikes he was forced to pick his way carefully in a detour17 around its base. Between times he found hobnails much inclined to click against unforeseen stones. The broken twig6 came to possess other than literary importance. After a little his nerves asserted themselves. Unconsciously he relaxed his attention and began to think.
The subject of his thoughts was the girl he had seen just twenty-four hours before. He caught himself remembering little things he had not consciously noticed at the time, as, for instance, the strange contrast between the mischief18 in her eyes and the austerity of her brow, or the queer little fashion she had of winking19 rapidly four or five times, and then opening her eyes wide and looking straight into the depths of his own. He considered it quite a coincidence that he had unconsciously returned to the spot on which they had met the day before--the rich Crazy Horse lode20.
As though in answer to his recognition of this fact, her voice suddenly called to him from above.
"Hullo, little boy!" it cried.
He felt at once that he was pleased at the encounter.
"Hullo!" he answered; "where are you?"
"Right here."
He looked up, and then still up, until, at the flat top of the castellated dike that stood over him, he caught a gleam of pink. The contrast between it, the blue of the sky, and the dark green of the trees, was most beautiful and unusual. Nature rarely uses pink, except in sunsets and in flowers. Bennington thought pleasedly how every impression this girl made upon him was one of grace or beauty or bright colour. The gleam of pink disappeared, and a great pine cone21, heavy with pitch, came buzzing through the air to fall at his feet.
"That's to show you where I am," came the clear voice. "You ought to feel honoured. I've only three cones22 left."
The dike before which Bennington had paused was one of the round variety. It rose perhaps twenty feet above the _debris_ at its base, sheer, gray, its surface almost intact except for an insignificant24 number of frost fissures25. From its base the hill fell rapidly, so that, even from his own inferior elevation26, he was enabled to look over the tops of trees standing27 but a few rods away from him. He could see that the summit of this dike was probably nearly flat, and he surmised28 that, once up there, one would become master of a pretty enough little plateau on which to sit; but his careful circumvallation could discover no possible method of ascent29. The walls afforded no chance for a squirrel's foothold even. He began to doubt whether he had guessed aright as to the girl's whereabouts, and began carefully to examine the tops of the trees. Discovering nothing in them, he cast another puzzled glance at the top of the dike. A pair of violet eyes was scrutinizing30 him gravely over the edge of it.
"How in the world did you get up there?" he cried.
"Flew," she explained, with great succinctness31.
"Look out you don't fall," he warned hastily; her attitude was alarming.
"I am lying flat," said she, "and I can't fall."
"You haven't told me how you got up. I want to come up, too."
"How do you know I want you?"
"I have such a lot of things to say!" cried Bennington, rather at a loss for a valid32 reason, but feeling the necessity keenly.
"Well, sit down and say them. There's a big flat rock just behind you."
This did not suit him in the least. "I wish you'd let me up," he begged petulantly33. "I can't say what I want from here."
"I can hear you quite well. You'll have to talk from there, or else keep still."
"That isn't fair!" persisted the young man, adopting a tone of argument. "You're a girl----"
"Stop there! You are wrong to start with. Did you think that a creature who could fly to the tops of the rocks was a mere35 girl? Not at all."
"What do you mean?" asked the easily bewildered Bennington.
"What I say. I'm not a girl."
"What are you then?"
"A sun fairy."
"A sun fairy?"
"Yes; a real live one. See that cloud over toward the sun? The nice downy one, I mean. That's my couch. I sleep on it all night. I've got it near the sun so that it will warm up, you see."
"I see," cried Bennington. He could recognise foolery--provided it were ticketed plainly enough. He sat down on the flat rock before indicated, and clasped his knee with his hands, prepared to enjoy more. "Is that your throne up there, Sun Fairy?" he asked. She had withdrawn36 her head from sight.
"It is," her voice came down to him in grave tones.
"It must be a very nice one."
"The nicest throne you ever saw."
"I never saw one, but I've often heard that thrones were unpleasant things."
"I am sitting, foolish mortal," said she, in tones of deep commiseration38, "on a soft, thick cushion of moss39--much more comfortable, I imagine, than hard, flat rocks. And the nice warm sun is shining on me--it must be rather chilly40 in the woods to-day. And there is a breeze blowing from the Big Horn--old rocks are always damp and stuffy41 in the shade. And I am looking away out over the Hills--I hope some people enjoy the sight of piles of quartzite."
"Cruel sun fairy!" cried Bennington. "Why do you tantalize42 me so with the delights from which you debar me? What have I done?"
There was a short silence.
"Can't you think of anything you've done?" asked the voice, insinuatingly43.
Bennington's conscience-stricken memory stirred. It did not seem so ridiculous, under the direct charm of the fresh young voice that came down through the summer air from above, like a dove's note from a treetop, to apologize to Lawton's girl. The incongruity44 now was in forcing into this Arcadian incident anything savouring of conventionality at all. It had been so idyllic45, this talk of the sun fairy and the cloud; so like a passage from an old book of legends, this dainty episode in the great, strong, Western breezes, under the great, strong, Western sky. Everything should be perfect, not to be blamed.
"Do sun fairies accept apologies?" he asked presently, in a subdued46 voice.
"They might."
"This particular sun fairy is offered one by a man who is sorry."
"Is it a good big one?"
"Indeed, yes."
The head appeared over the edge of the rock, inspected him gravely for a moment, and was withdrawn.
"Then it is accepted," said the voice.
"Thank you!" he replied sincerely. "And now are you going to let down your rope ladder, or whatever it is? I really want to talk to you."
"You are so persistent47!" cried the petulant34 voice, "and so foolish! It is like a man to spoil things by questionings!"
He suddenly felt the truth of this. One can not talk every day to a sun fairy, and the experience can never be repeated. He settled back on the rock.
"Pardon me, Sun Fairy!" he cried again. "Rope ladders, indeed, to one who has but to close her eyes and she finds herself on a downy cloud near the sun. My mortality blinded me!"
"Now you are a nice boy," she approved more contentedly48, "and as a reward you may ask me one question."
"All right," he agreed; and then, with instinctive49 tact23, "What do you see up there?"
He could hear her clap her hands with delight, and he felt glad that he had followed his impulse to ask just this question instead of one more personal and more in line with his curiosity.
"Listen!" she began. "I see pines, many pines, just the tops of them, and they are all waving in the breeze. Did you ever see trees from on top? They are quite different. And out from the pines come great round hills made all of stone. I think they look like skulls50. Then there are breathless descents where the pines fall away. Once in a while a little white road flashes out."
"Yes," urged Bennington, as the voice paused. "And what else do you see?"
"I see the prairie, too," she went on half dreamily. "It is brown now, but the green is beginning to shine through it just a very little. And out beyond there is a sparkle. That is the Cheyenne. And beyond that there is something white, and that is the Bad Lands."
The voice broke off with a happy little laugh.
Bennington saw the scene as though it lay actually spread out before him. There was something in the choice of the words, clearcut, decisive, and descriptive; but more in the exquisite51 modulations of the voice, adding here a tint52, there a shade to the picture, and casting over the whole that poetic53 glamour54 which, rarely, is imitated in grosser materials by Nature herself, when, just following sunset, she suffuses55 the landscape with a mellow56 afterglow.
The head, sunbonneted, reappeared perked57 inquiringly sideways.
"Hello, stranger!" it called with a nasal inflection, "how air ye? Do y' think minin' is goin' t' pan out well this yar spring?" Then she caught sight of his weapon. "What are you going to shoot?" she asked with sudden interest.
"I thought I might see a deer."
"Deer! hoh!" she cried in lofty scorn, reassuming her nasal tone. "You is shore a tenderfoot! Don' you-all know that blastin' scares all th' deer away from a minin' camp?"
Bennington looked confused. "No, I hadn't thought of that," he confessed stoutly58 enough.
"I kind of like to shoot!" said she, a little wistfully. "What sort of a gun is it?"
"A Savage59 smokeless," answered Bennington perfunctorily.
"One of the thirty-calibres?" inquired the sunbonnet with new interest.
"Yes," gasped60 Bennington, astonished at so much feminine knowledge of firearms.
"Oh! I'd like to see it. I never saw any of those. May I shoot it, just once?"
"Of course you may. More than once. Shall I come up?"
"No. I'll come down. You sit right still on that rock."
The sunbonnet disappeared, and there ensued a momentary61 commotion62 on the other side of the dike. In an instant the girl came around the corner, picking her way over the loose blocks of stone. With the finger-tips of either hand she held the pink starched63 skirt up, displaying a neat little foot in a heavy little shoe. Diagonally across the skirt ran two irregular brown stains. She caught him looking at them.
"Naughty, naughty!" said she, glancing down at them with a grimace64.
She dropped her skirt, and stood up beside him with a pretty shake of the shoulders.
"Now let's see it," she begged.
She examined the weapon with much interest, throwing down and back the lever in a manner that showed she was accustomed at least to the old-style arm.
"How light it is!" she commented, squinting65 through the sights. "Doesn't it kick awfully66?"
"Not a bit. Smokeless powder, you know."
"Of course. What'll we shoot at?"
Bennington fumbled67 in his pockets and produced an envelope.
"How's this?" he asked.
She seized it and ran like an antelope--with the same _gliding_ motion--to a tree about thirty paces distant, on which she pinned the bit of paper. They shot. Bennington hit the paper every time. The girl missed it once. At this she looked a little vexed68.
"You are either very rude or very sincere," was her comment.
"You're the best shot I ever saw----"
"Now don't dare say 'for a girl!'" she interrupted quickly. "What's the prize?"
"Was this a match?"
"Of course it was, and I insist on paying up."
Bennington considered.
"I think I would like to go to the top of the rock there, and see the pines, and the skull-stones, and the prairies."
She glanced toward him, knitting her brows. "It is my very own," she said doubtfully. "I've never let anybody go up there before."
One of the diminutive69 chipmunks71 of the hills scampered72 out from a cleft73 in the rocks and perched on a moss-covered log, chattering74 eagerly and jerking his tail in the well-known manner of chipmunks.
"Oh, see! see!" she cried, all excitement in a moment. She seized the rifle, and taking careful aim, fired. The chattering ceased; the chipmunk70 disappeared.
Bennington ran to the log. Behind it lay the little animal. The long steel-jacketed bullet had just grazed the base of its brain. He picked it up gently in the palm of his hand and contemplated75 it.
It was such a diminutive beast, not as large as a good-sized rat, quite smaller than our own fence-corner chipmunks of the East. It's little sides were daintily striped, its little whiskers were as perfect as those of the great squirrels in the timber bottom. In its pouches76 were the roots of pine cones. Bennington was not a sentimentalist, but the incident, against the background of the light-hearted day, seemed to him just a little pathetic. Something of the feeling showed in his eyes.
The girl, who had drawn37 near, looked from him to the dead chipmunk, and back again. Then she burst suddenly into tears.
"Oh, cruel, cruel!" she sobbed77. "What did I do it for? What did you _let_ me do it for?"
Her distress78 was so keen that the young man hastened to relieve it.
"There," he reassured79 her lightly, "don't do that! Why, you are a great hunter. You got your game. And it was a splendid shot. We'll have him skinned when we get back home, and we'll cure the skin, and you can make something out of it--a spectacle case," he suggested at random80. "I know how you feel," he went on, to give her time to recover, "but all hunters feel that way occasionally. See, I'll put him just here until we get ready to go home, where nothing can get him."
He deposited the squirrel in the cleft of a rock, quite out of sight, and stood back as though pleased. "There, that's fine!" he concluded.
With one of those instantaneous transitions, which seemed so natural to her, and yet which appeared to reach not at all to her real nature, she had changed from an aspect of passionate81 grief to one of solemn inquiry82. Bennington found her looking at him with the soul brimming to the very surface of her great eyes.
"I think you may come up on my rock," she said simply after a moment.
They skirted the base of the dike together until they had reached the westernmost side. There Bennington was shown the means of ascent, which he had overlooked before because of his too close examination of the cliff itself. At a distance of about twenty feet from the dike grew a large pine tree, the lowest branch of which extended directly over the little plateau and about a foot above it. Next to the large pine stood two smaller saplings side by side and a few inches apart. These had been converted into a ladder by the nailing across of rustic83 rounds.
"That's how I get up," explained the girl. "Now you go back around the corner again, and when I'm ready I'll call."
Bennington obeyed. In a few moments he heard again the voice in the air summoning him to approach and climb.
He ascended84 the natural ladder easily, but when within six or eight feet of the large branch that reached across to the dike, the smaller of the two saplings ceased, and so, naturally, the ladder terminated.
"Hi!" he called, "how did you get up this?"
He looked across the intervening space expectantly, and then, to his surprise, he observed that the girl was blushing furiously.
"I--I," stammered85 a small voice after a moment's hesitation86, "I guess I--_shinned_!"
A light broke across Bennington's mind as to the origin of the two dark streaks87 on the gown, and he laughed. The girl eyed him reproachfully for a moment or so; then she too began to laugh in an embarrassed manner. Whereupon Bennington laughed the harder. He shinned up the tree, to find that an ingenious hand rope had been fitted above the bridge limb, so that the crossing of the short interval88 to the rock was a matter of no great difficulty. In another instant he stood upon the top of the dike.
It was, as he had anticipated, nearly flat. Under the pine branch, which might make a very good chair back, grew a thick cushion of moss. The one tree broke the freedom of the eye's sweep toward the west, but in all other directions it was uninterrupted. As the girl had said, the tops of pines alone met the view, miles on miles of them, undulating, rising, swelling89, breaking against the barrier of a dike, or lapping the foot of a great round boulder-mountain. Here and there a darker spot suggested a break for a mountain peak; rarely a fleck90 of white marked a mountain road. Back of them all--ridge, mountain, cavernous valley--towered old Harney, sun-browned, rock-diademed, a few wisps of cloud streaming down the wind from his brow, locks heavy with the age of the great Manitou whom he was supposed to represent. Eastward91, the prairie like a peaceful sea. Above, the alert sky of the west. And through all the air a humming--vast, murmurous92, swelling--as the mountain breeze touched simultaneously93 with strong hand the chords, not of one, but a thousand pine harps94.
Bennington drew in a deep breath, and looked about in all directions. The girl watched him.
"Ah! it is beautiful!" he murmured at last with a half sigh, and looked again.
She seized his hand eagerly.
"Oh, I'm so glad you said that--and no more than that!" she cried. "I feel the sun fairy can make you welcome now."
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prospecting
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| n.探矿 | |
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ridge
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| n.山脊；鼻梁；分水岭 | |
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obstructions
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| n.障碍物( obstruction的名词复数 )；阻碍物；阻碍；阻挠 | |
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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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twigs
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| 细枝，嫩枝( twig的名词复数 ) | |
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twig
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| n.小树枝，嫩枝；v.理解 | |
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dike
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| n.堤，沟；v.开沟排水 | |
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surmounted
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| 战胜( surmount的过去式和过去分词 )； 克服（困难）； 居于…之上； 在…顶上 | |
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aggravating
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| adj.恼人的，讨厌的 | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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chasms
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| 裂缝( chasm的名词复数 )； 裂口； 分歧； 差别 | |
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perpendicularity
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| n.垂直，直立；垂直度 | |
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vomiting
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| 吐 | |
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descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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detour
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| n.绕行的路，迂回路；v.迂回，绕道 | |
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mischief
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| n.损害，伤害，危害；恶作剧，捣蛋，胡闹 | |
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winking
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| n.瞬眼，目语v.使眼色( wink的现在分词 )；递眼色（表示友好或高兴等）；（指光）闪烁；闪亮 | |
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lode
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| n.矿脉 | |
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cone
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| n.圆锥体，圆锥形东西，球果 | |
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cones
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| n.（人眼）圆锥细胞；圆锥体( cone的名词复数 )；球果；圆锥形东西；（盛冰淇淋的）锥形蛋卷筒 | |
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tact
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| n.机敏，圆滑，得体 | |
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insignificant
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| adj.无关紧要的，可忽略的，无意义的 | |
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fissures
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| n.狭长裂缝或裂隙( fissure的名词复数 )；裂伤；分歧；分裂v.裂开( fissure的第三人称单数 ) | |
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elevation
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| n.高度；海拔；高地；上升；提高 | |
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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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surmised
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| v.臆测，推断( surmise的过去式和过去分词 )；揣测；猜想 | |
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ascent
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| n.(声望或地位)提高；上升，升高；登高 | |
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scrutinizing
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| v.仔细检查，详审( scrutinize的现在分词 ) | |
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succinctness
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| n.简洁；简要；简明 | |
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valid
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| adj.有确实根据的；有效的；正当的，合法的 | |
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petulantly
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petulant
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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withdrawn
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| vt.收回；使退出；vi.撤退，退出 | |
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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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commiseration
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| n.怜悯，同情 | |
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moss
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| n.苔，藓，地衣 | |
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chilly
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| adj.凉快的，寒冷的 | |
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stuffy
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| adj.不透气的，闷热的 | |
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tantalize
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| vt.使干着急，逗弄 | |
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insinuatingly
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incongruity
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| n.不协调，不一致 | |
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idyllic
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| adj.质朴宜人的，田园风光的 | |
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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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persistent
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| adj.坚持不懈的，执意的；持续的 | |
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contentedly
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| adv.心满意足地 | |
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instinctive
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| adj.(出于)本能的；直觉的；(出于)天性的 | |
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skulls
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| 颅骨( skull的名词复数 )； 脑袋； 脑子； 脑瓜 | |
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exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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tint
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| n.淡色，浅色；染发剂；vt.着以淡淡的颜色 | |
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poetic
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| adj.富有诗意的，有诗人气质的，善于抒情的 | |
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glamour
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| n.魔力，魅力；vt.迷住 | |
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suffuses
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| v.（指颜色、水气等）弥漫于，布满( suffuse的第三人称单数 ) | |
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mellow
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| adj.柔和的；熟透的；v.变柔和；(使)成熟 | |
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perked
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| （使）活跃( perk的过去式和过去分词 )； （使）增值； 使更有趣 | |
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stoutly
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| adv.牢固地，粗壮的 | |
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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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gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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momentary
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| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
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commotion
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| n.骚动，动乱 | |
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starched
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| adj.浆硬的，硬挺的，拘泥刻板的v.把（衣服、床单等）浆一浆( starch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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grimace
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| v.做鬼脸，面部歪扭 | |
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squinting
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| 斜视( squint的现在分词 )； 眯着眼睛； 瞟； 从小孔或缝隙里看 | |
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awfully
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| adv.可怕地，非常地，极端地 | |
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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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vexed
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| adj.争论不休的；（指问题等）棘手的；争论不休的问题；烦恼的v.使烦恼( vex的过去式和过去分词 )；使苦恼；使生气；详细讨论 | |
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diminutive
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| adj.小巧可爱的，小的 | |
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chipmunk
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| n.花栗鼠 | |
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chipmunks
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| n.金花鼠( chipmunk的名词复数 ) | |
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scampered
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| v.蹦蹦跳跳地跑，惊惶奔跑( scamper的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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cleft
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| n.裂缝；adj.裂开的 | |
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chattering
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| n. （机器振动发出的）咔嗒声，(鸟等)鸣，啁啾 adj. 喋喋不休的，啾啾声的 动词chatter的现在分词形式 | |
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contemplated
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| adj. 预期的 动词contemplate的过去分词形式 | |
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pouches
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| n.（放在衣袋里或连在腰带上的）小袋( pouch的名词复数 )；（袋鼠等的）育儿袋；邮袋；（某些动物贮存食物的）颊袋 | |
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sobbed
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| 哭泣，啜泣( sob的过去式和过去分词 )； 哭诉，呜咽地说 | |
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distress
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| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
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reassured
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| adj.使消除疑虑的；使放心的v.再保证，恢复信心( reassure的过去式和过去分词) | |
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random
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| adj.随机的；任意的；n.偶然的(或随便的)行动 | |
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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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inquiry
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| n.打听，询问，调查，查问 | |
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rustic
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| adj.乡村的，有乡村特色的；n.乡下人，乡巴佬 | |
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ascended
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| v.上升，攀登( ascend的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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stammered
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| v.结巴地说出( stammer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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hesitation
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| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
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streaks
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| n.（与周围有所不同的）条纹( streak的名词复数 )；（通常指不好的）特征（倾向）；（不断经历成功或失败的）一段时期v.快速移动( streak的第三人称单数 )；使布满条纹 | |
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interval
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| n.间隔，间距；幕间休息，中场休息 | |
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swelling
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| n.肿胀 | |
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fleck
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| n.斑点，微粒 vt.使有斑点，使成斑驳 | |
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eastward
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| adv.向东；adj.向东的；n.东方，东部 | |
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murmurous
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| adj.低声的 | |
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simultaneously
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| adv.同时发生地，同时进行地 | |
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harps
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| abbr.harpsichord 拨弦古钢琴n.竖琴( harp的名词复数 ) | |
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