We need scarcely say that Buck3 Tom was wise enough to put a bridle4 on his tongue after the warning hint he had received from the scout5. He found this all the easier that he had nothing to conceal6 save the Christian7 name of his friend Leather, and, as it turned out, this was never asked for by the commander of the troops. All that the dying outlaw1 could reveal was that Jake the Flint had suddenly made his appearance in the cave only a short time previously8, had warned his comrades, and, knowing that he (Buck) was mortally wounded, and that Leather was helplessly weak from a wound which had nearly killed him, had left them both to their fate. That, just after they had gone, an unusually broad powerful man, with his face concealed9, had suddenly entered the cave and carried Leather off, in spite of his struggles, and that, about half-an-hour later, Hunky Ben had arrived to find the cave deserted10 by all but himself. Where the other outlaws had gone to he could not tell—of course they would not reveal that to a comrade who was sure to fall into the hands of their enemies.
“And you have no idea,” continued the captain, “who the man is that carried your friend Leather so hurriedly away?”
“Not the slightest,” returned Buck. “Had my revolver been handy and an ounce of strength left in me, you wouldn’t have had to ask the question.”
“Passing strange!” murmured Captain Wilmot, glancing at the scout, who was at the moment seated on a keg before the fire lighting11 his pipe, and with a look of simple benignant stolidity12 on his grave countenance13. “Have you no idea, Ben, where these outlaws have taken themselves off to?”
“No more’n a lop-eared rabbit, Captain Wilmot,” answered the scout. “You see there’s a good many paths by which men who knows the place could git out o’ the Trap, an’ once out o’ it there’s the whole o’ the Rockie range where to pick an’ choose.”
“But how comes it, Ben, that you missed Jake? Surely the road is not so broad that you could pass him unseen! Yet you arrived here before him?”
“That’s true, sir, but sly coons like the Flint can retire into the brush when they don’t want to be overhauled14. That wasn’t the way of it, however. With such a splendid animal as your poor horse, Captain, an’ ridden to death as it was—an’ as I ’spected it would be—I knowed I had no chance o’ comin’ up wi’ the Flint, so I took advantage o’ my knowledge o’ the lay o’ the land, an’ pushed ahead by a straighter line—finishin’ the last bit on futt over the ridge16 of a hill. That sent me well ahead o’ the Flint, an’ so I got here before him. Havin’ ways of eavesdroppin’ that other people don’t know on, I peeped into the cave here, and saw and heard how matters stood. Then I thought o’ harkin’ back on my tracks an’ stoppin’ the Flint wi’ a bullet but I reflected ‘what good’ll that do? The shot would wake up the outlaws an’ putt them on the scent17 all the same.’ Then I tried to listen what their talk was about, so as I might be up to their dodges18; but I hadn’t bin19 listenin’ long when in tramps the Flint an’ sounds the alarm. Of course I might have sent him an p’r’aps one o’ the others to their long home from where I stood; but I’ve always had an objection to shoot a man behind his back. It has such a sneakin’ sort o’ feel about it! An’ then, the others—I couldn’t see how many there was—would have swarmed20 out on me, an’ I’d have had to make tracks for the scrub, an’ larn nothin’ more. So I fixed21 to keep quiet an’ hear and see all that I could—p’r’aps find out where they fixed to pull out to. But I heard nothin’ more worth tellin’. They only made some hurried, an’ by no means kindly22, observations about poor Buck an’ Leather an’ went off over the hills. I went into the woods a bit myself after that, just to be well out o’ the way, so to speak, an’ when I got back here Leather was gone!”
“And you didn’t see the man that carried him off?”
“No, I didn’t see him.”
“You’d have shot him, of course, if you had seen him?”
“No, indeed, captain, I wouldn’t.”
“Well, because,” answered the scout, with a look of great solemnity, “I wouldn’t shoot such a man on any account—no matter what he was doin’!”
“Indeed!” returned the other with a broadening smile. “I had no idea you were superstitious24, Ben. I thought you feared neither man nor devil.”
“What I fear an’ what I don’t fear,” returned the scout with quiet dignity, “is a matter which has never given me much consarn.”
“Well, don’t be hurt, Hunky Ben, I don’t for one moment question your courage, only I fancied that if you saw any one rescuing an outlaw you would have tried to put a bullet into him whether he happened to be a man or a ghost.”
“But I have told you,” broke in Buck Tom with something of his old fire, “that Leather is not an outlaw.”
“I have only your word for that, and you know what that is worth,” returned the captain. “I don’t want to be hard on one apparently25 so near his end, and to say truth, I’m inclined to believe you, but we know that this man Leather has been for a long time in your company—whether a member of your band or not must be settled before another tribunal. If caught, he stands a good chance of being hanged. And now,” added the captain, turning to a sergeant26 who had entered the cave with him, “tell the men to put up their horses as best they may. We camp here for the night. We can do nothing while it is dark, but with the first gleam of day we will make a thorough search of the neighbourhood.”
While the troopers and their commander were busy making themselves as comfortable as possible in and around the cave, the scout went quietly up to the clump27 of wood where Leather was in hiding, and related to that unfortunate all that had taken place since he left him.
“It is very good of you, Hunky, to take so much interest in me, and incur28 so much risk and trouble; but do you know,” said Leather, with a look of surprise, not unmingled with amusement, “you are a puzzle to me, for I can’t understand how you could tell Captain Wilmot such a heap o’ lies—you that has got the name of bein’ the truest-hearted scout on the frontier!”
“You puzzle me more than I puzzle you, Leather,” returned the scout with a simple look. “What lies have I told?”
“Why, all you said about what you saw and heard when you said you were eavesdroppin’ must have been nonsense, you know, for how could you hear and see what took place in the cave through tons of rock and earth?”
“How I saw and heard, my son Leather, is a private affair of my own, but it was no lie.”
Leather looked incredulous.
“Then you said,” he continued, “that you didn’t see the man that carried me away.”
“No more I did, boy. I never saw him!”
“What! not even in a looking-glass?”
“Not even in a lookin’-glass,” returned Hunky. “I’ve seed his reflection there many a time,—an’ a pretty good-lookin’ reflection it was—but I’ve never see’d himself—that I knows on! No, Leather, if Captain Wilmot had axed me if I saw you carried off, I might ha’ been putt in a fix, but he didn’t ax me that. He axed if I’d seen the man that carried you off an’ I told the truth when I said I had not. Moreover I wasn’t bound to show him that he wasn’t fit to be a lawyer—specially when he was arter an innocent man, an’ might p’r’aps hang him without a trial. It was my duty to guide the captain in pursuit of outlaws, an’ it is my duty to shield an innocent man. Between the two perplexin’ duties I tried to steer30 as straight a course as I could, but I confess I had to steer pretty close to the wind.”
“Well, Hunky, it is my duty to thank you instead of criticising you as I have done, but how do you come to be so sure that I’m innocent?”
“P’r’aps because ye putt such an innocent question,” replied Ben, with a little smile. “D’ye raily think, Leather, that an old scout like me is goin’ to let you see through all the outs and ins by which I comes at my larnin’! It’s enough for you to know, boy, that I know a good deal more about you than ye think—more p’r’aps than ye know about yerself. I don’t go for to say that you’re a born angel, wantin’ nothin’ but a pair o’ wings to carry ye off to the better land—by no means, but I do know that as regards jinin’ Buck Tom’s boys, or takin’ a willin’ part in their devilish work, ye are innocent an’ that’s enough for me.”
“I’m glad you know it and believe it, Ben,” said Leather, earnestly, “for it is true. I followed Buck, because he’s an old, old chum, and I did it at the risk of my life, an’ then, as perhaps you are aware, we were chased and I got injured. So far I am innocent of acting31 with these men, but, O Ben, I don’t admit my innocence32 in anything else! My whole life—well, well—it’s of no use talkin’. Tell me, d’ye think there’s any chance o’ Buck getting over this?”
“He may. Nobody can tell. I’ll do my best for him. I never lose hope of a man, after what I’ve see’d in my experience, till the breath is fairly out of him.”
“Thank God for these words, Ben.”
“Yes,” continued the scout, “and your friend Brooke is at this moment sunk in the blue dumps because you have been carried off by a great mysterious monster!”
“Then he doesn’t know it was you?” exclaimed Leather.
“In course not. An’ he doesn’t know you are within five hundred yards of him. An’ what’s more, you mustn’t let him know it was me, for that must be kept a dead secret, else it’ll ruin my character on the frontiers. We must surround it wi’ mystery, my boy, till all is safe. But I didn’t come up here to enjoy an evenin’s conversation. You’re not safe where you are, Leather. They’ll be scourin’ all round for you long before sun-up, so I must putt you where you’ll be able to look on an’ grin at them.”
“Where will that be?” asked Leather, with some curiosity.
“You know the cliff about five hundred feet high that rises just over on the other side o’ the valley—where the water-shoot comes down?”
“Ay, it’s likely I do, for I’ve seen it every mornin’ for months past.”
“An’ you remember the hole near the top o’ the cliff?”
“Yes—that looks about the size of a crow?”
“Whatever it looks like it’s three times the size of a man, an’ it’s the mouth of a cave,” returned the scout. “Now, I’ll lead you to the track that’ll let you up to that cave. It’s a splendid place, full of all sorts o’ holes an’ places where a man couldn’t find you even if he know’d you was there. Once up, you may sit down, smoke your pipe in the mouth o’ the cave, an’ enjoy yourself lookin’ on at the hunt arter yourself. Here’s a bit o’ chuck I’ve brought to keep you from wearyin’, for they may keep it up all day. When all danger is past I’ll come up for ye. You needn’t show more o’ yourself, however, than the top o’ your head. A man can never be over-cautious when he’s bein’ hunted down. An’ mind, don’t leave the place till I come for you.”
Handing a cold roast fowl33 and a loaf to his companion, the scout got up and led him away to the spot which he had just described. It was by that time quite dark, but as Hunky Ben knew every inch of the ground he glided34 along almost as quickly as if it had been broad day, followed, with some difficulty, by poor Leather, who was still in a state of great prostration35, partly because of his injury and partly in consequence of his previous dissipation. As the place, however, was not much more than half-a-mile distant his powers of endurance were not much tried. The scout led him across the narrow valley just above the outlaws’ cave, and then, entering a steep rocky defile36, he began to ascend37 a place that was more suitable for goats than men. After half-an-hour of upward toil38 they reached a plateau where the track—if it may be so styled—seemed to run in a zig-zag manner until it reached a small hole in the solid rock. Through this they entered and found themselves within a cavern39 and in total darkness.
“We may rest a bit now,” said the scout. “There’s a ledge15 hereabouts. There you are. Sit down. I’ll have to take your hand here lest you fall off the bridge into the holes on each side o’ the track.”
“Are the holes dangerous?” asked Leather.
“They’re dangerous enough to be worth takin’ care of, anyhow, for if ye was to tumble into one you’d never come out again. There, now, let’s go on, for if I don’t git back soon, they’ll be wonderin’ if the monster hasn’t run away wi’ me too, as well as you!”
After advancing a short distance in total darkness—Ben feeling his way carefully step by step—they came suddenly to the hole in the front of the cave to which reference has been already made. The place had evidently been used before as a place of refuge and temporary abode40, for, near this front-mouth of the cave was found a litter of pine branches which had plainly been used as a bed.
“Sit ye down there, Leather,” said the scout, “see, or, rather, hear—for the eyes aren’t of much use just now—I’ve set down the grub an’ a flask41 o’ water beside ye. Don’t strike a light unless you want to have your neck stretched. Daylight won’t be long o’ lettin’ ye see what’s goin’ on. You won’t weary, for it’ll be as good as a play, yourself bein’ chief actor an’ audience all at the same time!”
Saying this the scout melted, as it were, into the darkness of the cavern, and, with noiseless moccasined feet, retraced42 his steps to the rear entrance.
Left to himself the poor wanderer found both time and food for reflection, for he did not dare in the darkness to move from the spot where he had seated himself. At first an eerie43 feeling of indefinable fear oppressed him, but this passed away as the busy thoughts went rambling44 back to home and the days of comparative innocence gone by. Forgetting the dark surroundings and the threatening dangers, he was playing again on the river banks, drinking liquorice-water, swimming, and rescuing kittens with Charlie Brooke. Anon, he was wandering on the sea-beach with his sister, brown-eyed Mary, or watching the manly45 form of his old friend and chum buffeting46 the waves towards the wreck47 on the Sealford Rocks. Memory may not be always faithful, but she is often surprisingly prompt. In the twinkling of an eye Shank Leather had crossed the Atlantic again and was once more in the drinking and gambling48 saloons—the “Hells” of New York—with his profoundly admired “friend” and tempter Ralph Ritson. It was a wild whirl and plunge49 from bad to worse through which Memory led him now—scenes at which he shuddered50 and on which he would fain have closed his eyes if possible, but Memory knows not the meaning of mercy. She tore open his eyes and, becoming unusually strict at this point, bade him look particularly at all the minute details of his reckless life—especially at the wrecks51 of other lives that had been caused by the wreck of his own. Then the deepest deep of all seemed to be reached when he rose—or rather fell—from the condition of tempted52 to that of tempter, and, somehow, managed for a time to lead even the far stronger-minded Ralph Ritson on the road to ruin. But he did not lead him long. The stronger nature soon re-asserted itself; seized the reins53; led the yielding Leather to the cities of the far west; from gambling took to robbing, till at last the gay and handsome Ritson became transformed into the notorious Buck Tom, and left his weaker chum to care for himself.
It was at this point—so Memory recalled to him—that he, Leather, was stopped, in mid54 and mad, career, by a man of God with the love of Jesus in his heart and on his lips. And at this point Memory seemed to change her action and proved herself, although unmerciful, pre-eminently faithful. She reminded him of the deep contrition55 that God wrought56 in his heart; of the horror that overwhelmed him when he thought of what he was, and what he had done; of the sudden resolve he had formed to follow Ritson, and try to stop him in the fearful career on which he had entered. Then came the memory of failure; of desperate anxieties; of futile57 entreaties58; of unaccountably resolute59 perseverance60; of joining the outlaw band to be near his friend; of being laughed to scorn by them all of being chased by US troops at the very commencement of his enterprise; of being severely61 wounded, rescued, and carried off during the flight by Buck Tom, and then—a long blank, mingled29 with awful dreams and scenes, and ribald songs, and curses—some of all which was real, and some the working of a fevered brain.
So terribly vivid were these pictures of memory, that one of the shouts of dreamland absolutely awoke him to the fact that he had extended his wearied limbs on his couch of pine brush and fallen asleep. He also awake to the perception that it was broad daylight, and that a real shout had mingled with that of dreamland, for after he had sat up and listened intently for a few moments, the shout was repeated as if at no great distance.
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收听单词发音
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1
outlaw
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| n.歹徒，亡命之徒；vt.宣布…为不合法 | |
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outlaws
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| 歹徒，亡命之徒( outlaw的名词复数 )； 逃犯 | |
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3
buck
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| n.雄鹿，雄兔；v.马离地跳跃 | |
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4
bridle
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| n.笼头，束缚；vt.抑制，约束；动怒 | |
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scout
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| n.童子军，侦察员；v.侦察，搜索 | |
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conceal
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
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Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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8
previously
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| adv.以前，先前（地） | |
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9
concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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10
deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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11
lighting
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| n.照明，光线的明暗，舞台灯光 | |
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12
stolidity
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| n.迟钝，感觉麻木 | |
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13
countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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14
overhauled
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| v.彻底检查( overhaul的过去式和过去分词 )；大修；赶上；超越 | |
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15
ledge
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| n.壁架，架状突出物；岩架，岩礁 | |
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16
ridge
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| n.山脊；鼻梁；分水岭 | |
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scent
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| n.气味，香味，香水，线索，嗅觉；v.嗅，发觉 | |
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18
dodges
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| n.闪躲( dodge的名词复数 )；躲避；伎俩；妙计v.闪躲( dodge的第三人称单数 )；回避 | |
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19
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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20
swarmed
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| 密集( swarm的过去式和过去分词 )； 云集； 成群地移动； 蜜蜂或其他飞行昆虫成群地飞来飞去 | |
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21
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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22
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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peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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superstitious
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| adj.迷信的 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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sergeant
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| n.警官，中士 | |
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27
clump
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| n.树丛，草丛；vi.用沉重的脚步行走 | |
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incur
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| vt.招致，蒙受，遭遇 | |
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29
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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30
steer
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| vt.驾驶，为…操舵；引导；vi.驾驶 | |
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31
acting
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| n.演戏，行为，假装；adj.代理的，临时的，演出用的 | |
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32
innocence
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| n.无罪；天真；无害 | |
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33
fowl
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| n.家禽，鸡，禽肉 | |
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34
glided
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| v.滑动( glide的过去式和过去分词 )；掠过；（鸟或飞机 ） 滑翔 | |
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35
prostration
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| n. 平伏, 跪倒, 疲劳 | |
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36
defile
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| v.弄污，弄脏；n.(山间)小道 | |
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37
ascend
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| vi.渐渐上升，升高；vt.攀登，登上 | |
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38
toil
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| vi.辛劳工作，艰难地行动；n.苦工，难事 | |
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39
cavern
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| n.洞穴，大山洞 | |
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40
abode
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| n.住处，住所 | |
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41
flask
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| n.瓶，火药筒，砂箱 | |
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42
retraced
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| v.折回( retrace的过去式和过去分词 )；回忆；回顾；追溯 | |
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43
eerie
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| adj.怪诞的；奇异的；可怕的；胆怯的 | |
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44
rambling
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| adj.[建]凌乱的，杂乱的 | |
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45
manly
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| adj.有男子气概的；adv.男子般地，果断地 | |
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46
buffeting
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| 振动 | |
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47
wreck
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| n.失事，遇难；沉船；vt.(船等)失事，遇难 | |
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48
gambling
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| n.赌博；投机 | |
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49
plunge
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| v.跳入，(使)投入，(使)陷入；猛冲 | |
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50
shuddered
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| v.战栗( shudder的过去式和过去分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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51
wrecks
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| n.沉船( wreck的名词复数 )；（事故中）遭严重毁坏的汽车（或飞机等）；（身体或精神上）受到严重损伤的人；状况非常糟糕的车辆（或建筑物等）v.毁坏[毁灭]某物( wreck的第三人称单数 )；使（船舶）失事，使遇难，使下沉 | |
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52
tempted
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| v.怂恿（某人）干不正当的事；冒…的险（tempt的过去分词） | |
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53
reins
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| 感情，激情； 缰( rein的名词复数 )； 控制手段； 掌管； （成人带着幼儿走路以防其走失时用的）保护带 | |
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54
mid
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| adj.中央的，中间的 | |
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55
contrition
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| n.悔罪，痛悔 | |
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56
wrought
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| v.引起；以…原料制作；运转；adj.制造的 | |
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futile
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| adj.无效的，无用的，无希望的 | |
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entreaties
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| n.恳求，乞求( entreaty的名词复数 ) | |
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59
resolute
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| adj.坚决的，果敢的 | |
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60
perseverance
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| n.坚持不懈，不屈不挠 | |
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severely
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| adv.严格地；严厉地；非常恶劣地 | |
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