About the same hour that the former was endeavouring to compass the destruction of Paul Bevan, Betty was on her knees in her little tented room, recalling the deeds, the omissions1, and the shortcomings of the past day, interceding2 alike for friends and foes3—if we may venture to assume that a rose without a thorn could have foes! Even the robber-chief was remembered among the rest, and you may be very sure that Tom Brixton was not forgotten.
Having slept the sleep of innocence4 and purity, Betty rose refreshed on the following day, and, before the Indian village was astir, went out to ramble5 along a favourite walk in a thicket6 on the mountain-side. It so fell out that Tom had selected the same thicket for his morning ramble. But poor Tom did not look like one who hoped to meet with his lady-love that morning. He had, under good nursing, recovered some of his former strength and vigour7 of body with wonderful rapidity, but his face was still haggard and careworn8 in an unusual degree for one so young. When the two met Tom did not pretend to be surprised. On the contrary, he said:—
“I expected to meet you here, Betty, because I have perceived that you are fond of the place, and, believe me, I would not have presumed to intrude9, were it not that I wish to ask one or two questions, the answers to which may affect my future movements.”
He paused, and Betty’s heart fluttered, for she could not help remembering former meetings when Tom had tried to win her affections, and when she had felt it her duty to discourage him. She made no reply to this rather serious beginning to the interview, but dropped her eyes on the turf, for she saw that the youth was gazing at her with a very mingled10 and peculiar11 expression.
“Tell me,” he resumed, after a few moments’ thought, “do you feel quite safe with these Indians?”
“Quite,” replied the girl with a slight elevation12 of the eyebrows13; “they are unusually gentle and good-natured people. Besides, their chief would lay down his life for my father—he is so grateful. Oh yes, I feel perfectly14 safe here.”
“But what does your father think. He is always so fearless—I might say reckless—that I don’t feel certain as to his real opinion. Have you heard him speaking about the chance of that rascal15 Stalker following him up?”
“Yes; he has spoken freely about that. He fully17 expects that Stalker will search for us, but considers that he will not dare to attack us while we live with so strong a band of Indians, and, as Stalker’s followers18 won’t hang about here very long for the mere19 purpose of pleasing their chief, especially when nothing is to be gained by it, father thinks that his enemy will be forced to go away. Besides, he has made up his mind to remain here for a long time—many months, it may be.”
“That will do,” returned Tom, with a sigh of relief; “then there will be no need for me to—”
“To what?” asked Betty, seeing that the youth paused.
“Forgive me if I do not say what I meant to. I have reasons for—” (he paused again)—“Then you are pleased with the way the people treat you?”
“Of course I am. They could not be kinder if I were one of themselves. And some of the women are so intelligent, too! You know I have picked up a good deal of the Indian language, and understand them pretty well, though I can’t speak much, and you’ve no idea what deep thinkers some of them are! There is Unaco’s mother, who looks so old and dried up and stupid—she is one of the dearest old things I ever knew. Why,” continued the girl, with increasing animation20, as she warmed with her subject, “that old creature led me, the other night, into quite an earnest conversation about religion, and asked me ever so many questions about the ways of God with man—speculative, difficult questions too, that almost puzzled me to answer. You may be sure I took the opportunity to explain to her God’s great love to man in and through Jesus, and—”
She stopped abruptly21, for Tom Brixton was at that moment regarding her with a steady and earnest gaze.
“Yes,” he said, slowly, almost dreamily, “I can well believe you took your opportunity to commend Jesus to her. You did so once to me, and—”
Tom checked himself, as if with a great effort. The girl longed to hear more, but he did not finish the sentence. “Well,” he said, with a forced air of gaiety, “I have sought you here to tell you that I am going off on—on—a long hunting expedition. Going at once—but I would not leave without bidding you good-bye.”
“Going away, Mr Brixton!” exclaimed Betty, in genuine surprise.
“Yes. As you see, I am ready for the field, with rifle and wallet, firebag and blanket.”
“But you are not yet strong enough,” said Betty.
“Oh! yes, I am—stronger than I look. Besides, that will mend every day. I don’t intend to say goodbye to Westly or any one, because I hate to have people try to dissuade22 me from a thing when my mind is made up. I only came to say good-bye to you, because I wish you to tell Fred and your father that I am grateful for all their kindness to me, and that it will be useless to follow me. Perhaps we may meet again, Betty,” he added, still in the forced tone of lightness, while he gently took the girl’s hand in his and shook it; “but the dangers of the wilderness23 are numerous, and, as you have once or twice told me, we ‘know not what a day or an hour may bring forth24.’” (His tone had deepened suddenly to that of intense earnestness)—“God bless you, Betty; farewell.”
He dropped her hand, turned sharply on his heel, and walked swiftly away, never once casting a look behind.
Poor Tom! It was a severe wrench25, but he had fought the battle manfully and gained the victory. In his new-born sense of personal unworthiness and strict Justice, he had come to the conclusion that he had forfeited26 the right to offer heart or hand to the Rose of Oregon. Whether he was right or wrong in his opinion we do not pretend to judge, but this does not alter the fact that a hard battle with self had been fought by him, and a great victory won.
But Tom neither felt nor looked very much like a conqueror27. His heart seemed to be made of lead, and the strength of which he had so recently boasted seemed to have deserted28 him altogether after he had walked a few miles, insomuch that he was obliged to sit down on a bank to rest. Fear lest Fred or Paul should follow up his trail, however, infused new strength into his limbs, and he rose and pushed steadily29 on, for he was deeply impressed with the duty that lay upon him—namely, to get quickly, and as far as possible, away from the girl whom he could no longer hope to wed30.
Thus, advancing at times with great animation, sitting down occasionally for short rests, and then resuming the march with renewed vigour, he travelled over the mountains without any definite end in view, beyond that to which we have already referred.
For some time after he was gone Betty stood gazing at the place in the thicket where he had disappeared, as if she half expected to see him return; then, heaving a deep sigh, and with a mingled expression of surprise, disappointment, and anxiety on her fair face, she hurried away to search for her father.
She found him returning to their tent with a load of firewood, and at once told him what had occurred.
“He’ll soon come back, Betty,” said Paul, with a significant smile. “When a young feller is fond of a lass, he’s as sure to return to her as water is sure to find its way as fast as it can to the bottom of a hill.”
Fred Westly thought the same, when Paul afterwards told him about the meeting, though he did not feel quite so sure about the return being immediate31; but Mahoghany Drake differed from them entirely32.
“Depend on’t,” he said to his friend Paul, when, in the privacy of a retired33 spot on the mountain-side, they discussed the matter—“depend on’t, that young feller ain’t made o’ butter. What he says he will do he’ll stick to, if I’m any judge o’ human natur. Of course it ain’t for me to guess why he should fling off in this fashion. Are ye sure he’s fond o’ your lass?”
“Sure? Ay, as sure as I am that yon is the sun an’ not the moon a-shinin’ in the sky.”
“H’m! that’s strange. An’ they’ve had no quarrel?”
“None that I knows on. Moreover, they ain’t bin34 used to quarrel. Betty’s not one o’ that sort—dear lass. She’s always fair an’ above board; honest an’ straight for’ard. Says ’zactly what she means, an’ means what she says. Mister Tom ain’t given to shilly-shallyin’, neither. No, I’m sure they’ve had no quarrel.”
“Well, it’s the old story,” said Drake, while a puzzled look flitted across his weather-beaten countenance35, and the smoke issued more slowly from his unflagging pipe, “the conduct o’ lovers is not to be accounted for. Howsever, there’s one thing I’m quite sure of—that he must be looked after.”
“D’ye think so?” said Paul. “I’d have thought he was quite able to look arter himself.”
“Not just now,” returned the trapper; “he’s not yet got the better of his touch o’ starvation, an’ there’s a chance o’ your friend Stalker, or Buxley, which d’ye call him?”
“Whichever you like; he answers to either, or neither, as the case may be. He’s best known as Stalker in these parts, though Buxley is his real name.”
“Well, then,” resumed Drake, “there’s strong likelihood o’ him prowlin’ about here, and comin’ across the tracks o’ young Brixton; so, as I said before, he must be looked after, and I’ll take upon myself to do it.”
“Well, I’ll jine ye,” said Paul, “for of course ye’ll have to make up a party.”
“Not at all,” returned the trapper, with decision. “I’ll do it best alone; leastwise I’ll take only little Tolly Trevor an’ Leapin’ Buck36 with me, for they’re both smart an’ safe lads, and are burnin’ keen to learn somethin’ o’ woodcraft.”
In accordance with this determination, Mahoghany Drake, Leaping Buck, and little Trevor set off next day and followed Tom Brixton’s trail into the mountains. It was a broad trail and very perceptible, at least to an Indian or a trapper, for Tom had a natural swagger, which he could not shake off, even in the hour of his humiliation37, and, besides, he had never been an adept38 at treading the western wilderness with the care which the red man finds needful in order to escape from, or baffle, his foes.
“’Tis as well marked, a’most” said Drake, pausing to survey the trail, “as if he’d bin draggin’ a toboggan behind him.”
“Yet a settlement man wouldn’t see much of it,” remarked little Trevor; “eh! Buckie?”
The Indian boy nodded gravely. He emulated39 his father in this respect, and would have been ashamed to have given way to childish levity40 on what he was pleased to consider the war-path, but he had enough of the humorous in his nature to render the struggle to keep grave in Tolly’s presence a pretty severe one. Not that Tolly aimed at being either witty41 or funny, but he had a peculiarly droll42 expression of face, which added much point to whatever he said.
“Ho!” exclaimed the trapper, after they had gone a little farther; “here’s a trail that even a settlement man could hardly fail to see. There’s bin fifty men or more. D’ye see it Tolly?”
“See it? I should think so. D’you suppose I carry my eyes in my pocket?”
“Come now, lad,” said Drake, turning to Leaping Buck, “you want to walk in your father’s tracks, no doubt. Read me this trail if ye can.”
The boy stepped forward with an air of dignity that Drake regarded as sublime43 and Tolly thought ludicrous, but the latter was too fond of his red friend to allow his feelings to betray themselves.
“As the white trapper has truly said,” he began, “fifty men or more have passed this way. They are most of them white men, but three or four are Indians.”
“Good!” said Drake, with an approving nod; “I thought ye’d notice that. Well, go on.”
“They were making straight for my father’s camp,” continued the lad, bending a stern look on the trail, “but they turned sharp round, like the swallow, on coming to the trail of the white man Brixton, and followed it.”
“How d’ye know that, lad?” asked the trapper.
“Because I see it” returned the boy, promptly44, pointing at the same time to a spot on the hill-side considerably45 above them, where the conformation of the land at a certain spot revealed enough of the trail of the “fifty men or more,” to show the change of direction.
“Good again, lad. A worthy46 son of your father. I didn’t give ’e credit for sharpness enough to perceive that. Can you read anything more?”
“One man was a horseman, but he left his horse behind on getting to the rough places of the hills and walked with the rest. He is Paul Bevan’s enemy.”
“And how d’ye know all that?” said Drake, regarding the little fellow with a look of pride.
“By the footprints,” returned Leaping Buck. “He wears boots and spurs.”
“Just so,” returned the trapper, “and we’ve bin told by Paul that Stalker was the only man of his band who wouldn’t fall in wi’ the ways o’ the country, but sticks to the clumsy Jack-boots and spurs of old England. Yes, the scoundrel has followed you up, Tolly, as Paul Bevan said he would, and, havin’ come across Brixton’s track, has gone after him, from all which I now come to the conclusion that your friend Mister Tom is a prisoner, an’ stands in need of our sarvices. What say you, Tolly?”
“Go at ’em at once,” replied the warlike Trevor, “an’ set him free.”
“What! us three attack fifty men?”
“Why not?” responded Tolly, “We’re more than a match for ’em. Paul Bevan has told me oftentimes that honest men are, as a rule, ten times more plucky47 than dishonest ones. Well, you are one honest man, that’s equal to ten; an’ Buckie and I are two honest boys, equal, say, to five each, that’s ten more, making twenty among three of us. Three times twenty’s sixty, isn’t it? so, surely that’s more than enough to fight fifty.”
“Ah, boy,” answered the trapper, with a slightly puzzled expression, “I never could make nothin’ o’ ’rithmetic, though my mother put me to school one winter with a sort o’ half-mad parson that came to the head waters o’ the Yellowstone river, an’ took to teachin’—dear me, how long ago was it now? Well, I forget, but somehow you seem to add up the figgurs raither faster than I was made to do. Howsever, we’ll go an’ see what’s to be done for Tom Brixton.”
The trapper, who had been leaning on his gun, looking down at his bold little comrades during the foregoing conversation, once more took the lead, and, closely following the trail of the robber-band, continued the ascent48 of the mountains.
The Indian village was by that time far out of sight behind them, and the scenery in the midst of which they were travelling was marked by more than the average grandeur49 and ruggedness51 of the surrounding region.
On their right arose frowning precipices52 which were fringed and crowned with forests of pine, intermingled with poplar, birch, maple53, and other trees. On their left a series of smaller precipices, or terraces, descended54 to successive levels, like giant steps, till they reached the bottom of the valley up which our adventurers were moving, where a brawling55 river appeared in the distance like a silver thread. The view both behind and in advance was extremely wild, embracing almost every variety of hill scenery, and in each case was shut in by snow-capped mountains. These, however, were so distant and so soft in texture56 as to give the impression of clouds rather than solid earth.
Standing57 on one of the many jutting58 crags from which could be had a wide view of the vale lying a thousand feet below, Tolly Trevor threw up his arms and waved them to and fro as if in an ecstasy59, exclaiming— “Oh, if I had only wings, what a swoop60 I’d make—down there!”
“Ah, boy, you ain’t the first that’s wished for wings in the like circumstances. But we’ve bin denied these advantages. P’r’aps we’d have made a bad use of ’em. Sartinly we’ve made a bad use o’ sich powers as we do possess. Just think, now, if men could go about through the air as easy as the crows, what a row they’d kick up all over the ’arth! As it is, when we want to fight we’ve got to crawl slowly from place to place, an’ make roads for our wagins, an’ big guns, an’ supplies, to go along with us; but if we’d got wings—why, the first fire eatin’ great man that could lead his fellows by the nose would only have to give the word, when up would start a whole army o’ men, like some thousand Jack-in-the-boxes, an’ away they’d go to some place they’d took a fancy to, an’ down they’d come, all of a heap, quite onexpected—take their enemy by surprise, sweep him off the face o’ the ’arth, and enter into possession.”
“Well, it would be a blue lookout,” remarked Tolly, “if that was to be the way of it. There wouldn’t be many men left in the world before long.”
“That’s true, lad, an’ sitch as was left would be the worst o’ the race. No, on the whole I think we’re better without wings.”
While he was talking to little Trevor, the trapper had been watching the countenance of the Indian boy with unusual interest. At last he turned to him and asked—
“Has Leaping Buck nothin’ to say?”
“When the white trapper speaks, the Indian’s tongue should be silent,” replied the youth.
“A good sentiment and does you credit, lad. But I am silent now. Has Leaping Buck no remark to make on what he sees?”
“He sees the smoke of the robber’s camp far up the heights,” replied the boy, pointing as he spoke16.
“Clever lad!” exclaimed the trapper, “I know’d he was his father’s son.”
“Where? I can see nothing,” cried Tolly, who understood the Indian tongue sufficiently61 to make out the drift of the conversation.
“Of course ye can’t; the smoke is too far off an’ too thin for eyes not well practised in the signs o’ the wilderness. But come; we shall go and pay the robbers a visit; mayhap disturb their rest a little—who knows!”
With a quiet laugh, Mahoghany Drake withdrew from the rocky ledge62, and, followed by his eager satellites, continued to wend his way up the rugged50 mountain-sides, taking care, however, that he did not again expose himself to view, for well did he know that sharp eyes and ears would be on the qui vive that night.
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1
omissions
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| n.省略( omission的名词复数 )；删节；遗漏；略去或漏掉的事（或人） | |
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interceding
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| v.斡旋，调解( intercede的现在分词 )；说情 | |
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foes
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| 敌人，仇敌( foe的名词复数 ) | |
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innocence
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| n.无罪；天真；无害 | |
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ramble
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| v.漫步，漫谈，漫游；n.漫步，闲谈，蔓延 | |
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thicket
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| n.灌木丛，树林 | |
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vigour
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| （=vigor）n.智力，体力，精力 | |
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careworn
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| adj.疲倦的，饱经忧患的 | |
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intrude
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| vi.闯入；侵入；打扰，侵扰 | |
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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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peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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elevation
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| n.高度；海拔；高地；上升；提高 | |
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eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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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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rascal
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| n.流氓；不诚实的人 | |
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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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fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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followers
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| 追随者( follower的名词复数 )； 用户； 契据的附面； 从动件 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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animation
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| n.活泼，兴奋，卡通片／动画片的制作 | |
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abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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dissuade
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| v.劝阻，阻止 | |
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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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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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wrench
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| v.猛拧；挣脱；使扭伤；n.扳手；痛苦，难受 | |
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forfeited
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| （因违反协议、犯规、受罚等）丧失，失去( forfeit的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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conqueror
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| n.征服者，胜利者 | |
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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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steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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wed
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| v.娶，嫁，与…结婚 | |
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immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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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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retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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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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35
countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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buck
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| n.雄鹿，雄兔；v.马离地跳跃 | |
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humiliation
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| n.羞辱 | |
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adept
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| adj.老练的，精通的 | |
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emulated
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| v.与…竞争( emulate的过去式和过去分词 )；努力赶上；计算机程序等仿真；模仿 | |
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40
levity
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| n.轻率，轻浮，不稳定，多变 | |
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witty
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| adj.机智的，风趣的 | |
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42
droll
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| adj.古怪的，好笑的 | |
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43
sublime
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| adj.崇高的，伟大的；极度的，不顾后果的 | |
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promptly
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| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
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45
considerably
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| adv.极大地；相当大地；在很大程度上 | |
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46
worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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47
plucky
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| adj.勇敢的 | |
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48
ascent
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| n.(声望或地位)提高；上升，升高；登高 | |
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49
grandeur
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| n.伟大，崇高，宏伟，庄严，豪华 | |
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50
rugged
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| adj.高低不平的，粗糙的，粗壮的，强健的 | |
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51
ruggedness
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| 险峻，粗野； 耐久性； 坚固性 | |
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52
precipices
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| n.悬崖，峭壁( precipice的名词复数 ) | |
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53
maple
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| n.槭树，枫树，槭木 | |
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54
descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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55
brawling
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| n.争吵，喧嚷 | |
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56
texture
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| n.(织物)质地；(材料)构造；结构；肌理 | |
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57
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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58
jutting
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| v.（使）突出( jut的现在分词 )；伸出；（从…）突出；高出 | |
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59
ecstasy
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| n.狂喜，心醉神怡，入迷 | |
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60
swoop
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| n.俯冲，攫取；v.抓取，突然袭击 | |
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61
sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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62
ledge
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| n.壁架，架状突出物；岩架，岩礁 | |
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