On reaching a waterfall, therefore, where the navigable part of the river ended and its broken course through Bevan’s Gully began, he landed without any show of haste, drew the canoe up on the bank, where he left it concealed4 among bushes, and began quietly to descend2 by a narrow footpath5 with which he had been long familiar.
Up to that point the unhappy youth had entertained no definite idea as to why he was hurrying towards the hut of Paul Bevan, or what he meant to say for himself on reaching it. But towards noon, as he drew near to it, the thought of Betty in her innocence6 and purity oppressed him. She rose before his mind’s eye like a reproving angel.
How could he ever face her with the dark stain of a mean theft upon his soul? How could he find courage to confess his guilt7 to her? or, supposing that he did not confess it, how could he forge the tissue of lies that would be necessary to account for his sudden appearance, and in such guise—bloodstained, wounded, haggard, and worn out with fatigue8 and hunger? Such thoughts now drove him to the verge9 of despair. Even if Betty were to refrain from putting awkward questions, there was no chance whatever of Paul Bevan being so considerate. Was he then to attempt to deceive them, or was he to reveal all? He shrank from answering the question, for he believed that Bevan was an honest man, and feared that he would have nothing further to do with him when he learned that he had become a common thief. A thief! How the idea burned into his heart, now that the influence of strong drink no longer warped10 his judgment11!
“Has it really come to this?” he muttered, gloomily. Then, as he came suddenly in sight of Bevan’s hut, he exclaimed more cheerfully, “Come, I’ll make a clean breast of it.”
Paul Bevan had pitched his hut on the top of a steep rocky mound13, the front of which almost overhung a precipice14 that descended into a deep gully, where the tormented15 river fell into a black and gurgling pool. Behind the hut flowed a streamlet, which being divided by the mound into a fork, ran on either side of it in two deep channels, so that the hut could only be reached by a plank16 bridge thrown across the lower or western fork. The forked streamlet tumbled over the precipice and descended into the dark pool below in the form of two tiny silver threads. At least it would have done so if its two threads had not been dissipated in misty17 spray long before reaching the bottom of the cliff. Thus it will be seen that the gold-digger occupied an almost impregnable fortress18, though why he had perched himself in such a position no one could guess, and he declined to tell. It was therefore set down, like all his other doings, to eccentricity19.
Of course there was so far a pretext20 for his caution in the fact that there were scoundrels in those regions, who sometimes banded together and attacked people who were supposed to have gold-dust about them in large quantities, but as such assaults were not common, and as every one was equally liable to them, there seemed no sufficient ground for Bevan’s excessive care in the selection of his fortress.
On reaching it, Tom found its owner cutting up some firewood near his plank-bridge.
“Hallo, Brixton!” he cried, looking up in some surprise as the young man advanced; “you seem to have bin21 in the wars. What have ’e been fightin’ wi’, lad?”
“With a bear, Paul Bevan,” replied Tom, sitting down on a log, with a long-drawn22 sigh.
“You’re used up, lad, an’ want rest; mayhap you want grub also. Anyhow you look awful bad. No wounds, I hope, or bones broken, eh?”
“No, nothing but a broken heart,” replied Tom with a faint attempt to smile.
“Why, that’s a queer bit o’ you for a b’ar to break. If you had said it was a girl that broke it, now, I could have—”
“Where is Betty?” interrupted the youth, quickly, with an anxious expression.
“In the hut, lookin’ arter the grub. You’ll come in an’ have some, of course. But I’m coorious to hear about that b’ar. Was it far from here you met him?”
“Ay, just a short way this side o’ Pine Tree Diggings.”
“Pine Tree Diggin’s!” repeated Paul in surprise. “Why, then, didn’t you go back to Pine Tree Diggin’s to wash yourself an’ rest, instead o’ comin’ all the way here?”
“Because—because, Paul Bevan,” said Tom with sudden earnestness, as he gazed on the other’s face, “because I’m a thief!”
“You might be worse,” replied Bevan, while a peculiarly significant smile played for a moment on his rugged24 features.
“What do you mean?” exclaimed Tom, in amazement25.
“Why, you might have bin a murderer, you know,” replied Bevan, with a nod.
The youth was so utterly26 disgusted with this cool, indifferent way of regarding the matter, that he almost regretted having spoken. He had been condemning29 himself so severely30 during the latter part of his journey, and the meanness of his conduct as well as its wickedness had been growing so dark in colour, that Bevan’s unexpected levity31 took him aback, and for a few seconds he could not speak.
“Listen,” he said at last, seizing his friend by the arm and looking earnestly into his eyes. “Listen, and I will tell you all about it.”
The man became grave as Tom went on with his narrative32.
“Yes, it’s a bad business,” he said, at its conclusion, “an uncommon33 bad business. Got a very ugly look about it.”
“You are right, Paul,” said Tom, bowing his head, while a flush of shame covered his face. “No one, I think, can be more fully12 convinced of the meanness—the sin—of my conduct than I am now—”
“Oh! as to that,” returned Bevan, with another of his peculiar23 smiles, “I didn’t exactly mean that. You were tempted34, you know, pretty bad. Besides, Bully35 Gashford is a big rascal36, an’ richly deserves what he got. No, it wasn’t that I meant—but it’s a bad look-out for you, lad, if they nab you. I knows the temper o’ them Pine Tree men, an’ they’re in such a wax just now that they’ll string you up, as sure as fate, if they catch you.”
Again Tom was silent, for the lightness with which Bevan regarded his act of theft only had the effect of making him condemn28 himself the more.
“But I say, Brixton,” resumed Bevan, with an altered expression, “not a word of all this to Betty. You haven’t much chance with her as it is, although I do my best to back you up; but if she came to know of this affair, you’d not have the ghost of a chance at all—for you know the gal37 is religious, more’s the pity, though I will say it, she’s a good obedient gal, in spite of her religion, an’ a ’fectionate darter to me. But she’d never marry a thief, you know. You couldn’t well expect her to.”
The dislike with which Tom Brixton regarded his companion deepened into loathing38 as he spoke27, and he felt it difficult to curb39 his desire to fell the man to the ground, but the thought that he was Betty’s father soon swallowed up all other thoughts and feelings. He resolved in his own mind that, come of it what might, he would certainly tell all the facts to the girl, and then formally give her up, for he agreed with Bevan at least on one point, namely, that he could not expect a good religious girl to marry a thief!
“But you forget, Paul,” he said, after a few moments’ thought, “that Betty is sure to hear about this affair the first time you have a visitor from Pine Tree Diggings.”
“That’s true, lad, I did forget that. But you know you can stoutly40 deny that it was you who did it. Say there was some mistake, and git up some cock-an’-a-bull story to confuse her. Anyhow, say nothing about it just now.”
Tom was still meditating42 what he should say in reply to this, when Betty herself appeared, calling her father to dinner.
“Now, mind, not a word about the robbery,” he whispered as he rose, “and we’ll make as much as we can of the b’ar.”
“Yes, not a word about it,” thought Tom, “till Betty and I are alone, and then—a clean breast and good-bye to her, for ever!”
During dinner the girl manifested more than usual sympathy with Tom Brixton. She saw that he was almost worn out with fatigue, and listened with intense interest to her father’s embellished43 narrative of the encounter with the “b’ar,” which narrative Tom was forced to interrupt and correct several times, in the course of its delivery. But this sympathy did not throw her off her guard. Remembering past visits, she took special care that Tom should have no opportunity of being alone with her.
“Now, you must be off to rest,” said Paul Bevan, the moment his visitor laid down his knife and fork, “for, let me tell you, I may want your help before night. I’ve got an enemy, Tom, an enemy who has sworn to be the death o’ me, and who will be the death o’ me, I feel sure o’ that in the long-run. However, I’ll keep him off as long as I can. He’d have been under the sod long afore now, lad—if—if it hadn’t bin for my Betty. She’s a queer girl is Betty, and she’s made a queer man of her old father.”
“But who is this enemy, and when—what—? explain yourself.”
“Well, I’ve no time to explain either ‘when’ or ‘what’ just now, and you have no time to waste. Only I have had a hint from a friend, early this morning, that my enemy has discovered my whereabouts, and is following me up. But I’m ready for him, and right glad to have your stout41 arm to help—though you couldn’t fight a babby just now. Lie down, I say, an’ I’ll call you when you’re wanted.”
Ceasing to press the matter, Tom entered a small room, in one corner of which a narrow bed, or bunk44, was fixed45. Flinging himself on this, he was fast asleep in less than two minutes. “Kind nature’s sweet restorer” held him so fast, that for three hours he lay precisely46 as he fell, without the slightest motion, save the slow and regular heaving of his broad chest.
At the end of that time he was rudely shaken by a strong hand. The guilty are always easily startled. Springing from his couch he had seized Bevan by the throat before he was quite awake.
“Hist! man, not quite so fast” gasped47 his host shaking him off. “Come, they’ve turned up sooner than I expected.”
“What—who?” said Brixton, looking round.
“My enemy, of coorse, an’ a gang of redskins to help him. They expect to catch us asleep, but they’ll find out their mistake soon enough. That lad there brought me the news, and, you see, he an’ Betty are getting things ready.”
Tom glanced through the slightly opened doorway48, as he tightened49 his belt, and saw Betty and a boy of about fourteen years of age standing50 at a table, busily engaged loading several old-fashioned horse-pistols with buckshot.
“Who’s the boy?” asked Tom.
“They call him Tolly. I saved the little chap once from a grizzly51 b’ar, an’ he’s a grateful feller, you see—has run a long way to give me warnin’ in time. Come, here’s a shot-gun for you, charged wi’ slugs. I’m not allowed to use ball, you must know, ’cause Betty thinks that balls kill an’ slugs only wound! I humour the little gal, you see, for she’s a good darter to me. We’ve both on us bin lookin’ forward to this day, for we knowed it must come sooner or later, an’ I made her a promise that, when it did come, I’d only defend the hut wi’ slugs. But slugs ain’t bad shots at a close range, when aimed low.”
The man gave a sly chuckle52 and a huge wink53 as he said this, and entered the large room of the hut.
Betty was very pale and silent. She did not even look up from the pistol she was loading when Tom entered. The boy Tolly, however, looked at his tall, strong figure with evident satisfaction.
“Ha!” he exclaimed, ramming54 down a charge of slugs with great energy; “we’ll be able to make a good fight without your services, Betty. Won’t we, old man?”
The pertly-put question was addressed to Paul Bevan, between whom and the boy there was evidently strong affection.
“Yes, Tolly,” replied Bevan, with a pleasant nod, “three men are quite enough for the defence of this here castle.”
“But, I say, old man,” continued the boy, shaking a powder-horn before his face, “the powder’s all done. Where’ll I git more?”
A look of anxiety flitted across Bevan’s face.
“It’s in the magazine. I got a fresh keg last week, an’ thought it safest to put it there till required—an’ haven’t I gone an’ forgot to fetch it in!”
“Well, that don’t need to trouble you,” returned the boy, “just show me the magazine, an’ I’ll go an’ fetch it in!”
“The magazine’s over the bridge,” said Bevan. “I dug it there for safety. Come, Tom, the keg’s too heavy for the boy. I must fetch it myself, and you must guard the bridge while I do it.”
He went out quickly as he spoke, followed by Tom and Tolly.
It was a bright moonlight night, and the forks of the little stream glittered like two lines of silver, at the bottom of their rugged bed on either side of the hut. The plank-bridge had been drawn up on the bank. With the aid of his two allies Bevan quickly thrust it over the gulf55, and, without a moment’s hesitation56, sprang across. While Tom stood at the inner end, ready with a double-barrelled gun to cover his friend’s retreat if necessary, he saw Bevan lift a trap-door not thirty yards distant and disappear. A few seconds, and he re-appeared with a keg on his shoulder.
All remained perfectly57 quiet in the dark woods around. The babbling58 rivulet59 alone broke the silence of the night. Bevan seemed to glide60 over the ground, he trod so softly.
“There’s another,” he whispered, placing the keg at Tom’s feet, and springing back towards the magazine. Again he disappeared, and, as before, re-issued from the hole with the second keg on his shoulder. Suddenly a phantom61 seemed to glide from the bushes, and fell him to the earth. He dropped without even a cry, and so swift was the act that his friends had not time to move a finger to prevent it. Tom, however, discharged both barrels of his gun at the spot where the phantom seemed to disappear, and Tolly Trevor discharged a horse pistol in the same direction. Instantly a rattling62 volley was fired from the woods, and balls whistled all round the defenders63 of the hut.
Most men in the circumstances would have sought shelter, but Tom Brixton’s spirit was of that utterly reckless character that refuses to count the cost before action. Betty’s father lay helpless on the ground in the power of his enemies! That was enough for Tom. He leaped across the bridge, seized the fallen man, threw him on his shoulder, and had almost regained64 the bridge, when three painted Indians uttered a hideous65 war-whoop and sprang after him.
Fortunately, having just emptied their guns, they could not prevent the fugitive66 from crossing the bridge, but they reached it before there was time to draw in the plank, and were about to follow, when Tolly Trevor planted himself in front of them with a double-barrelled horse-pistol in each band.
“We don’t want you here, you—red-faced—baboons!” he cried, pausing between each of the last three words to discharge a shot and emphasising the last word with one of the pistols, which he hurled67 with such precision that it took full effect on the bridge of the nearest red man’s nose. All three fell, but rose again with a united screech68 and fled back to the bushes.
A few moments more and the bridge was drawn back, and Paul Bevan was borne into the hut, amid a scattering69 fire from the assailants, which, however, did no damage.
To the surprise and consternation70 of Tolly, who entered first, Betty was found sitting on a chair with blood trickling71 from her left arm. A ball entering through the window had grazed her, and she sank down, partly from the shock, coupled with alarm. She recovered, however, on seeing her father carried in, sprang up, and ran to him.
“Only stunned72, Betty,” said Tom; “will be all right soon, but we must rouse him, for the scoundrels will be upon us in a minute. What—what’s this—wounded?”
“Only a scratch. Don’t mind me. Father! dear father—rouse up! They will be here—oh! rouse up, dear father!”
But Betty shook him in vain.
“Out o’ the way, I know how to stir him up,” said Tolly, coming forward with a pail of water and sending the contents violently into his friend’s face—thus drenching73 him from head to foot.
The result was that Paul Bevan sneezed, and, sitting up, looked astonished.
“Ha! I thought that ’ud fetch you,” said the boy, with a grin. “Come, you’d better look alive if you don’t want to lose yer scalp.”
“Ho! ho!” exclaimed Bevan, rising with a sudden look of intelligence and staggering to the door, “here, give me the old sword, Betty, and the blunderbuss. Now then.”
He went out at the door, and Tom Brixton was following, when the girl stopped him.
“Oh! Mr Brixton,” she said, “do not kill any one, if you can help it.”
“I won’t if I can help it. But listen, Betty,” said the youth, hurriedly seizing the girl’s hand. “I have tried hard to speak with you alone to-day, to tell you that I am guilty, and to say good-bye for ever.”
“Guilty! what do you mean?” she exclaimed in bewildered surprise.
“No time to explain. I may be shot, you know, or taken prisoner, though the latter’s not likely. In any case remember that I confess myself guilty! God bless you, dear, dear girl.”
Without waiting for a reply, he ran to a hollow on the top of the mound where his friend and Tolly were already ensconced, and whence they could see every part of the clearing around the little fortress.
“I see the reptiles,” whispered Bevan, as Tom joined them. “They are mustering74 for an attack on the south side. Just what I wish,” he added, with a suppressed chuckle, “for I’ve got a pretty little arrangement of cod-hooks and man-traps in that direction.”
As he spoke several dark figures were seen gliding75 among the trees. A moment later, and these made a quick silent rush over the clearing to gain the slight shelter of the shrubs76 that fringed the streamlet.
“Just so,” remarked Bevan, in an undertone, when a crash of branches told that one of his traps had taken effect; “an’ from the row I should guess that two have gone into the hole at the same time. Ha! that’s a fish hooked!” he added, as a short sharp yell of pain, mingled77 with surprise, suddenly increased the noise.
“An’ there goes another!” whispered Tolly, scarcely able to contain himself with delight at such an effective yet comparatively bloodless way of embarrassing their foes78.
“And another,” added Bevan; “but look out now; they’ll retreat presently. Give ’em a dose o’ slug as they go back, but take ’em low, lads—about the feet and ankles. It’s only a fancy of my dear little gal, but I like to humour her fancies.”
Bevan was right. Finding that they were not only surrounded by hidden pit-falls, but caught by painfully sharp little instruments, and entangled79 among cordage, the Indians used their scalping-knives to free themselves, and rushed back again towards the wood, but before gaining its shelter they received the slug-dose above referred to, and instantly filled the air with shrieks80 of rage, rather than of pain. At that moment a volley was fired from the other side of the fortress, and several balls passed close over the defenders’ heads.
“Surrounded and outnumbered!” exclaimed Bevan, with something like a groan81.
As he spoke another, but more distant, volley was heard, accompanied by shouts of anger and confusion among the men who were assaulting the fortress.
“The attackers are attacked,” exclaimed Bevan, in surprise; “I wonder who by.”
He looked round for a reply, but only saw the crouching82 figure of Tolly beside him.
“Where’s Brixton?” he asked.
“Bolted into the hut,” answered the boy.
“Betty,” exclaimed Tom, springing into the little parlour or hall, where he found the poor girl on her knees, “you are safe now. I heard the voice of Gashford, and the Indians are flying. But I too must fly. I am guilty, as I have said, but my crime is not worthy83 of death, yet death is the award, and, God knows, I am not fit to die. Once more—farewell!”
He spoke rapidly, and was turning to go without even venturing to look at the girl, when she said—
“Whatever your crime may be, remember that there is a Saviour84 from sin. Stay! You cannot leap the creek85, and, even if you did, you would be caught, for I hear voices near us. Come with me.”
She spoke in a tone of decision that compelled obedience86. Lifting a trap-door in the floor she bade her lover descend. He did so, and found himself in a cellar half full of lumber87 and with several casks ranged round the walls. The girl followed, removed one of the casks, and disclosed a hole behind it.
“It is small,” she said, quickly, “but you will be able to force yourself through. Inside it enlarges at once to a low tunnel, along which you will creep for a hundred yards, when you will reach open air in a dark, rocky dell, close to the edge of the precipice above the river. Descend to its bed, and, when free, use your freedom to escape from death—but much more, to escape from sin. Go quickly!”
Tom Brixton would fain have delayed to seize and kiss his preserver’s hand, but the sound of voices overhead warned him to make haste. Without a word he dropped on hands and knees and thrust himself through the aperture88. Betty replaced the cask, returned to the upper room, and closed the trap-door just a few minutes before her father ushered89 Gashford and his party into the hut.
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descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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descend
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| vt./vi.传下来，下来，下降 | |
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partially
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| adv.部分地，从某些方面讲 | |
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concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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footpath
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| n.小路，人行道 | |
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innocence
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| n.无罪；天真；无害 | |
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guilt
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| n.犯罪；内疚；过失，罪责 | |
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fatigue
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| n.疲劳，劳累 | |
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verge
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| n.边，边缘；v.接近，濒临 | |
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warped
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| adj.反常的；乖戾的；（变）弯曲的；变形的v.弄弯，变歪( warp的过去式和过去分词 )；使（行为等）不合情理，使乖戾， | |
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judgment
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fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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mound
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| n.土墩，堤，小山；v.筑堤，用土堆防卫 | |
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precipice
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tormented
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plank
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| n.板条，木板，政策要点，政纲条目 | |
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misty
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| adj.雾蒙蒙的，有雾的 | |
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fortress
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| n.堡垒，防御工事 | |
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eccentricity
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| n.古怪，反常，怪癖 | |
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pretext
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bin
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| n.箱柜；vt.放入箱内；[计算机] DOS文件名:二进制目标文件 | |
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drawn
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peculiar
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rugged
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amazement
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utterly
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spoke
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condemn
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| vt.谴责，指责；宣判(罪犯)，判刑 | |
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condemning
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| v.（通常因道义上的原因而）谴责( condemn的现在分词 )；宣判；宣布…不能使用；迫使…陷于不幸的境地 | |
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severely
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levity
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narrative
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uncommon
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tempted
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bully
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rascal
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gal
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| n.姑娘，少女 | |
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loathing
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| n.厌恶，憎恨v.憎恨，厌恶( loathe的现在分词)；极不喜欢 | |
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curb
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stoutly
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meditating
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| a.沉思的，冥想的 | |
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embellished
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| v.美化( embellish的过去式和过去分词 )；装饰；修饰；润色 | |
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bunk
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| n.(车、船等倚壁而设的)铺位；废话 | |
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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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precisely
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| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
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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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doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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tightened
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| 收紧( tighten的过去式和过去分词 )； （使）变紧； （使）绷紧； 加紧 | |
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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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grizzly
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| adj.略为灰色的，呈灰色的；n.灰色大熊 | |
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52
chuckle
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| vi.／n.轻声笑，咯咯笑 | |
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53
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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54
ramming
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| n.打结炉底v.夯实（土等）( ram的现在分词 )；猛撞；猛压；反复灌输 | |
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gulf
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| n.海湾；深渊，鸿沟；分歧，隔阂 | |
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hesitation
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| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
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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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babbling
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| n.胡说，婴儿发出的咿哑声adj.胡说的v.喋喋不休( babble的现在分词 )；作潺潺声（如流水）；含糊不清地说话；泄漏秘密 | |
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rivulet
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| n.小溪，小河 | |
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glide
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| n./v.溜，滑行；(时间)消逝 | |
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phantom
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| n.幻影，虚位，幽灵；adj.错觉的，幻影的，幽灵的 | |
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rattling
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| adj. 格格作响的, 活泼的, 很好的 adv. 极其, 很, 非常 动词rattle的现在分词 | |
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defenders
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| n.防御者( defender的名词复数 )；守卫者；保护者；辩护者 | |
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regained
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| 复得( regain的过去式和过去分词 )； 赢回； 重回； 复至某地 | |
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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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fugitive
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| adj.逃亡的，易逝的；n.逃犯，逃亡者 | |
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hurled
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| v.猛投，用力掷( hurl的过去式和过去分词 )；大声叫骂 | |
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68
screech
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| n./v.尖叫；(发出)刺耳的声音 | |
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scattering
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| n.[物]散射；散乱，分散；在媒介质中的散播adj.散乱的；分散在不同范围的；广泛扩散的；（选票）数量分散的v.散射(scatter的ing形式)；散布；驱散 | |
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70
consternation
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| n.大为吃惊，惊骇 | |
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trickling
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| n.油画底色含油太多而成泡沫状突起v.滴( trickle的现在分词 )；淌；使)慢慢走；缓慢移动 | |
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stunned
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| adj. 震惊的，惊讶的 动词stun的过去式和过去分词 | |
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drenching
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| n.湿透v.使湿透( drench的现在分词 )；在某人（某物）上大量使用（某液体） | |
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74
mustering
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| v.集合，召集，集结（尤指部队）( muster的现在分词 )；（自他人处）搜集某事物；聚集；激发 | |
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75
gliding
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| v. 滑翔 adj. 滑动的 | |
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shrubs
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| 灌木( shrub的名词复数 ) | |
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mingled
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| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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foes
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| 敌人，仇敌( foe的名词复数 ) | |
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entangled
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| adj.卷入的；陷入的；被缠住的；缠在一起的v.使某人（某物/自己）缠绕，纠缠于（某物中），使某人（自己）陷入（困难或复杂的环境中）( entangle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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80
shrieks
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| n.尖叫声( shriek的名词复数 )v.尖叫( shriek的第三人称单数 ) | |
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81
groan
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| vi./n.呻吟，抱怨；(发出)呻吟般的声音 | |
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82
crouching
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的现在分词 ) | |
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83
worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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84
saviour
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| n.拯救者，救星 | |
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85
creek
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| n.小溪，小河，小湾 | |
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86
obedience
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| n.服从，顺从 | |
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87
lumber
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| n.木材，木料；v.以破旧东西堆满；伐木；笨重移动 | |
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88
aperture
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| n.孔，隙，窄的缺口 | |
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89
ushered
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| v.引，领，陪同( usher的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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