Joe had stayed away so long that the town seemed to be new to him. The playground in front of the old school-house was full of dingy5 hospital huts; the stores with which he had been familiar had been put to new and strange uses; and there were strange faces everywhere. Squads7 of soldiers were marching briskly here and there; men with crutches8 at their sides, or bandages on their heads, or with their arms in slings9, were sunning themselves on every corner. Everything was strange. Even the old china-trees under which Joe had played hundreds of times had an unfamiliar10 look. Dazed and confused, the lad sat down on one of the long benches that were placed along the wall in front of some of the stores. The bench was tilted11 back against the wall, and one end of it was occupied by two men who were engaged in earnest conversation. Joe paid little attention to them at first, but a word or two that he heard caused him to observe them more closely. One of them was Mr. Deometari, the Greek exile and lawyer; the other was a man whom Joe did not know. He noticed that, although Mr. Deometari wore a faded and shabby uniform, his linen12 was spotless. His cuffs13 and shirt-bosom shone in the sun, and the setting of a heavy ring on his chubby14 finger sparkled like a star. “He has forgotten me,” Joe thought, and he sat there determined15 not to make himself known, although he and Mr. Deometari had been great friends before the lad left Hillsborough.
“There’s another thing I’m troubled about,” Joe heard Mr. Deometari say to his companion. “Pruitt has come home.”
“What’s the matter with him?” asked the other.
“Well,” said the other, “it’s a big risk for a grown man to take. If he’s caught, he’ll have to pay the penalty.”
“No!” exclaimed Mr. Deometari, bringing his fist down on his broad knee. “He’ll be caught, but he won’t pay the penalty.”
“Why, what do you mean, Deo?” asked his companion.
“Don’t you know him?” exclaimed Mr. Deometari. “He belongs to the Relief Committee!”
“Phew!” whistled the other, raising both his hands in the air, and letting them fall again.
“Don’t you know him?” Deometari went on, with increasing earnestness. “He’s the man that shot the otter17.”
“The identical man,” said Deometari. “And do you know who this provost-marshal here is—this Captain Johnson?”
0187
“Oh, yes,” said the other; “he’s the chap that stole the last dust of meal we had been saving to make soup for poor Tom Henderson.”
“And what happened then?” inquired Mr. Deometari, as if trying to refresh his own memory instead of that of his companion. “Didn’t Jack Pruitt give him a whipping?”
“Why, bless my life!” exclaimed the other. “What am I thinking about? Why, of course he did!” Saying this, Mr. Deometari’s companion rose to his feet, and caught sight of Joe Maxwell as he did so. Instantly he laid his hand on Mr. Deometari’s shoulder and remarked:
“It is fine weather for birds and boys.”
Joe was not at all disconcerted. He was not eavesdropping20, though he was very much interested in what he had heard. The way to interest a boy thoroughly21 is to puzzle him, and Joe was puzzled.
“I saw Mr. Pruitt last night,” he remarked, and then, as his old friend turned, he said:
“How do you do, Mr. Deo? You haven’t forgotten me, have you?”
Joe advanced and offered his hand. As Mr. Deometari took it, the frown cleared away from his face.
“Why, my dear boy!” he exclaimed, pulling the lad toward him and giving him a tremendous hugging, “I am delighted to see you! I could count on my ten fingers the people who are left to call me Deo. And if I counted, my boy, you may be sure I’d call your name long before I got to my little finger. Why, I’m proud of you, my boy! They tell me you write the little paragraphs in the paper credited to ‘The Countryman’s Devil’? Not all of them! Ah, well! it is honor enough if you only write some of them. Forget you, indeed!”
Mr. Deometari’s greeting was not only cordial but affectionate, and the sincerity22 that shone in his face and echoed in his words brought tears to Joe Maxwell’s eyes.
“Blandford,” said Mr. Deometari, “you ought to know this boy. Don’t you remember Joe Maxwell?”
“Why, yes!” said Mr. Blandford, showing his white teeth and fixing his big black eyes on Joe. “He used to fight shy of me, but I remember him very well. He used to stand at the back of my chair and give me luck when I played draughts23.”
Mr. Blandford had changed greatly since Joe had seen him last. His black hair, which once fell over his shoulders in glossy24 curls, was now gray, and the curls were shorn away. The shoulders that were once straight and stalwart were slightly stooped. Of the gay and gallant25 young man whom Joe Maxwell had known as Archie Blandford nothing remained unchanged except his brilliant eyes and his white teeth. Mr. Blandford had, in fact, seen hard service. He had been desperately26 shot in one of the battles, and had lain for months in a Richmond hospital. He was now, as he said, just beginning to feel his oats again.
“Come!” said Mr. Deometari, “we must go to my room. It is the same old room, in the same old tavern27,” he remarked.
When the two men and Joe Maxwell reached the room, which was one of the series opening on the long veranda28 of the old tavern, Mr. Deometari carefully closed the door, although the weather was pleasant enough—it was the early fall of 1864.
“Now, then,” said he, drawing his chair in front of Joe, and placing his hands on his knees, “I heard you mention a name out yonder when you first spoke29 to me. What was it?”
“Pruitt,” said Joe.
“Precisely so,” said Mr. Deometari, smiling in a satisfied way. “John Pruitt. Now, what did you say about John Pruitt?”
“Late of said county, deceased,” dryly remarked Mr. Blandford, quoting from the form of a legal advertisement.
“I said I saw him last night,” said Joe, and then he went on to explain the circumstances.
“Very good! and now what did you hear me say about Pruitt?”
“You said he would be caught and not punished because he belonged to the Relief Committee.”
“Hear that!” exclaimed Mr. Deometari. “If any but these friendly ears had heard all that, we’d have been put on Johnson’s black list, and maybe we’d have been transferred from the black list to the guard-house. Now, then,” continued Mr. Deometari, “you don’t know anything about the Relief Committee, of course, and as you might be inquiring around about it, and asking what John Pruitt, the deserter, has to do with the Relief Committee, I’ll tell you. But, my dear boy, you must remember this: It’s not a matter to be joked about or talked of anywhere outside of this room. Now, don’t forget. It isn’t much of a secret; it is simply a piece of business that concerns only a few people. Do you remember reading or hearing about the retreat from Laurel Hill?” asked Mr. Deometari, moving his chair back and unwinding the stem of his Turkish pipe. “That was in the early part of the war, and it will never cut much of a figure in history, but some of those who were in that retreat will never forget it. In the confusion of getting away a little squad6 of us, belonging mostly to the First Georgia Regiment30, were cut off from the main body. When we halted to get our bearings there were not more than a dozen of us.”
“Seventeen, all told,” remarked Mr. Blandford.
“Yes,” said Mr. Deometari, “seventeen. We were worse than lost. We were on the mountains in a strange country. Behind us was the enemy and before us was a forest of laurel that stretched away as far as the eye could reach. To the right or to the left was the same uncertainty31. We could hear nothing of the rest of the command. To fire a gun was to invite capture, and there was nothing for us to do but push ahead through the scrubby growth.”
“The commissary was absent on a furlough,” remarked Mr. Blandford.
“Yes,” said Mr. Deometari, laughing. “The commissary was missing, and rations32 were scanty33. Some of the men had none at all. Some had a little hard-tack, and others had a handful or so of meal. Though the weather was bitter cold, we built no fire the first night, for fear of attracting the attention of the enemy. The next day and the next we struggled on. We saved our rations the best we could, but they gave out after a while, and there was nothing left but a little meal which John Pruitt was saving up for Tom Henderson, who was ill and weak with fever. Every day, when we’d stop to breathe awhile, Pruitt would make Henderson a little cupful of gruel34, while the rest of us ate corn, or roots, or chewed the inside bark of the trees.‘’
“And nobody begrudged36 Tom his gruel,” said Mr. Blandford, “though I’ll swear the sight of it gave me the all-overs.”
“Oh, yes!” exclaimed Mr. Deometari. “Somebody did begrudge35 Tom the gruel. One night this Captain Johnson, who is lording it around here now, thought Pruitt and the rest of us were asleep, and he made an effort to steal the little meal that was left. Well, Pruitt was very wide awake, and he caught Johnson and gave him a tremendous flogging; but the villain37 had already got into the haversack, and in the struggle the meal was spilled.”
Mr. Deometari coiled the stem of his pipe around his neck, and blew a great cloud of smoke toward the ceiling.
“But what about the Relief Committee, Mr. Deo?” inquired Joe.
“Why, to be sure! A nice story-teller am I!” exclaimed Mr. Deometari. “I had forgotten the Relief Committee entirely38. Well, we went forward, growing weaker and weaker every day, until finally we came to a ravine.”
“It was a gorge39,” observed Mr. Blandford, stretching himself out on Mr. Deometari’s bed, “and a deep one too.”
“Yes, a gorge,” said Mr. Deometari. “When we reached that gorge we were in a famished40 condition. Not a bird could be seen except crows and buzzards. The crows would have made good eating, no doubt, but they were very shy. We had lived in the hope of finding a hog41, or a sheep, or a cow, but not a sign of a four-footed creature did we see. I don’t know how it was, but that gorge seemed to stretch across our path like the Gulf42 of Despair. Some of the men dropped on the ground and declared that they would go no farther.
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“They said they had no desire to live; they were as weak and as foolish as children. Of the seventeen men in the squad, there were but five who had any hope, any spunk43, or any spirit—Blandford there, Pruitt, Henderson, this Captain Johnson, and myself.”
“You ought to put yourself first,” said Mr. Blandford. “You were as fat as a pig all the time, and as full of life as a grasshopper44 in July.”
“This ravine or gorge,” continued Mr. Deometari, paying no attention to the interruption, “was our salvation45. Mr. Blandford and Pruitt explored it for a little distance, and they found a little stream of water running at the bottom. It was what you call a branch. When they came back there was considerable disagreement among the men. The poor creatures, weak and irritable46 from hunger, had lost all hope, and would listen to no argument that didn’t suit their whims47. There was this question to settle: Should we cross the gorge and continue in the course we had been going, or should we’ follow the gorge? It was a very serious question. We had not the slightest idea where we were. We had been wandering about in the mountains for eight days, and if we were going to get out at all it was necessary to be in a hurry about it.
“Then there was another question. If the gorge was to be followed, which way should we go? Should we follow the running water or should we go the other way? Blandford and Pruitt had already made up their minds to follow the running water, and of course I was going with them.”
“That’s because it was down hill,” remarked Mr. Blandford, laughing. “Deo always said his legs were never made for going up hill.”
“We had a great discussion. My dear boy, if you want to see how peevish48 and ill-natured and idiotic49 a grown man can be, just starve him for a matter of eight or nine days. Some wanted to go one way and some wanted to go another, while others wanted to stay where they were. Actually, Blandford and I had to cut hickories and pretend that we were going to flog the men who wanted to stay there and die, and when we got them on their feet we had to drive them along like a drove of sheep, while Pruitt led the way.
“Pruitt’s idea was that the running water led somewhere. This may seem to be a very simple matter now, but in our weak and confused condition it was a very fortunate thing that he had the idea and stuck to it. We found out afterward50 that if we had continued on the course we had been going, or if we had followed the gorge in the other direction, we would have buried ourselves in a wilderness51 more than a hundred miles in extent.
“The next day a couple of hawks52 and two jay-birds were shot, and, though they made small rations for seventeen men, yet they were refreshing53, and the very sight of them made us feel better. The walls of the gorge grew wider apart, and the branch became larger as we followed it. The third day after we had changed our course Pruitt, who was ahead, suddenly paused and lifted his hand. Some of the men were so weak that they swayed from side to side as they halted. The sight of them was pitiful. We soon saw what had attracted Pruitt’s attention. On the rocks, above a pool of water, an otter lay sunning himself. He was as fat as butter. We stood speechless a moment and then sank to the ground. There was no fear that the otter could hear our voices, for the branch, which had now grown into a creek54, fell noisily into the pool. If he had heard us—if he had slipped off the rocks and disappeared—” Mr. Deometari paused and looked into his pipe.
“Great heavens, Deo!” exclaimed Mr. Blandford, jumping up from the bed. “I’ll never forget that as long as I live! I never had such feelings before, and I’ve never had such since.”
“Yes,” continued Mr. Deometari, “it was an awful moment. Each man knew that we must have the otter, but how could we get him? He must be shot, but who could shoot him? Who would have nerve enough to put the ball in the right spot? The man who held the gun would know how much depended on him; he would be too excited to shoot straight. I looked at the men, and most of them were trembling. Those who were not trembling were as white as a sheet with excitement. I looked at Pruitt, and he was standing55 up, watching the otter, and whistling a little jig56 under his breath. So I said to him, as quietly as I could:
“‘Take your gun, man, and give it to him. You can’t miss. He’s as big as a barn-door.’
“Pruitt dropped on one knee, put a fresh cap on his gun, shook his hand loose from his sleeve, leveled his piece, and said, ‘Pray for it, boys!’
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“Then he fired. He was so weak that the gun kicked him over. When I looked at the otter it seemed that the creature had never moved, but presently I saw a leg quivering, and then we rushed forward as fast as we could, the happiest lot of men you ever saw on this earth. The otter was shot through the head. The men were so ravenous57 they acted like maniacs58. It was all that Blandford and Pruitt and I could do to keep them from falling on the otter with their knives and eating it raw, hide and all.
“But it saved us,” Mr. Deometari went on, “and we had something to spare. The next day we met with a farmer hunting his stray sheep, and we soon got back to the army. Four of us formed the Relief Committee before we parted. Blandford, Pruitt, Tom Henderson, and myself—the men who had never lost hope—promised each other, and shook hands on it, that whenever one got in trouble the others would help him out without any questions.
“Now, it isn’t necessary to ask any questions about Pruitt He deserted because his family were in a starving condition.”
“Yes,” said Mr. Blandford, bringing his heavy jaws59 together with a snap, “and I believe in my soul that Johnson has kept food and clothes away from them!”
“I know he has,” said Mr. Deometari, calmly. “Tom Henderson is one of Johnson’s clerks, and he keeps the run of things. He is to meet us to-night, and then you’ll see a man who has been blazing mad for three months.—Now, my boy,” continued Mr. Deometari, “forget all about this. You are too young to be troubled with such things. We’re just watching to see how Captain Johnson proposes to pay off the score he owes Pruitt. Should you chance to see John, just tell him that the Relief Committee has taken charge of Hillsborough for a few weeks. Another thing,” said Mr. Deometari, laying his hand kindly60 on the boy’s shoulder, “if you should be sent for some day or some night, just drop everything and come with the messenger. A bright chap like you is never too small to do good.”
The two men shook hands with Joe, and Mr. Blandford gravely took off his hat when he bade the boy good-by.
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1
runaways
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| （轻而易举的）胜利( runaway的名词复数 ) | |
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joyfully
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| adv. 喜悦地, 高兴地 | |
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martial
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| adj.战争的，军事的，尚武的，威武的 | |
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convalescing
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| v.康复( convalesce的现在分词 ) | |
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dingy
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| adj.昏暗的，肮脏的 | |
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squad
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| n.班，小队，小团体；vt.把…编成班或小组 | |
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squads
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| n.（军队中的）班( squad的名词复数 )；（暗杀）小组；体育运动的运动（代表）队；（对付某类犯罪活动的）警察队伍 | |
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crutches
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| n.拐杖, 支柱 v.支撑 | |
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slings
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| 抛( sling的第三人称单数 )； 吊挂； 遣送； 押往 | |
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unfamiliar
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| adj.陌生的，不熟悉的 | |
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tilted
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| v. 倾斜的 | |
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linen
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| n.亚麻布，亚麻线，亚麻制品；adj.亚麻布制的，亚麻的 | |
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13
cuffs
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| n.袖口( cuff的名词复数 )v.掌打，拳打( cuff的第三人称单数 ) | |
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14
chubby
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| adj.丰满的，圆胖的 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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otter
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| n.水獭 | |
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astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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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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eavesdropping
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| n. 偷听 | |
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thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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sincerity
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| n.真诚，诚意；真实 | |
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draughts
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| n. <英>国际跳棋 | |
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24
glossy
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| adj.平滑的；有光泽的 | |
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gallant
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| adj.英勇的，豪侠的；(向女人)献殷勤的 | |
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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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tavern
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| n.小旅馆，客栈；小酒店 | |
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veranda
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| n.走廊；阳台 | |
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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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regiment
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| n.团，多数，管理；v.组织，编成团，统制 | |
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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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rations
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| 定量( ration的名词复数 )； 配给量； 正常量； 合理的量 | |
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scanty
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| adj.缺乏的，仅有的，节省的，狭小的，不够的 | |
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gruel
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| n.稀饭，粥 | |
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begrudge
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| vt.吝啬，羡慕 | |
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begrudged
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| 嫉妒( begrudge的过去式和过去分词 )； 勉强做； 不乐意地付出； 吝惜 | |
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villain
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| n.反派演员，反面人物；恶棍；问题的起因 | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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gorge
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| n.咽喉，胃，暴食，山峡；v.塞饱，狼吞虎咽地吃 | |
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famished
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| adj.饥饿的 | |
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hog
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| n.猪；馋嘴贪吃的人；vt.把…占为己有，独占 | |
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gulf
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| n.海湾；深渊，鸿沟；分歧，隔阂 | |
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spunk
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| n.勇气，胆量 | |
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grasshopper
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| n.蚱蜢，蝗虫，蚂蚱 | |
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45
salvation
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| n.（尤指基督）救世，超度，拯救，解困 | |
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irritable
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| adj.急躁的；过敏的；易怒的 | |
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47
WHIMS
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| 虚妄，禅病 | |
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48
peevish
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| adj.易怒的，坏脾气的 | |
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49
idiotic
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| adj.白痴的 | |
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50
afterward
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| adv.后来；以后 | |
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51
wilderness
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| n.杳无人烟的一片陆地、水等，荒漠 | |
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52
hawks
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| 鹰( hawk的名词复数 )； 鹰派人物，主战派人物 | |
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53
refreshing
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| adj.使精神振作的，使人清爽的，使人喜欢的 | |
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54
creek
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| n.小溪，小河，小湾 | |
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55
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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56
jig
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| n.快步舞（曲）；v.上下晃动；用夹具辅助加工；蹦蹦跳跳 | |
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57
ravenous
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| adj.极饿的，贪婪的 | |
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58
maniacs
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| n.疯子（maniac的复数形式） | |
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59
jaws
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| n.口部；嘴 | |
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60
kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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