While hunting together in the woods near Traitor’s Trap one day Charlie Brooke and Hunky Ben came to a halt on the summit of an eminence2 that commanded a wide view over the surrounding country.
“’Tis a glorious place, Ben,” said Brooke, leaning his rifle against a tree and mounting on a piece of rock, the better to take in the beautiful prospect3 of woodland, river, and lake. “When I think of the swarms4 of poor folk in the old country who don’t own a foot of land, have little to eat and only rags to cover them, I long to bring them out here and plant them down where God has spread His blessings5 so bountifully, where there is never lack of work, and where Nature pays high wages to those who obey her laws.”
“No doubt there’s room enough here,” returned the scout6 sitting down and laying his rifle across his knees. “I’ve often thowt on them subjects, but my thowts only lead to puzzlement; for, out here in the wilderness7, a man can’t git all the information needful to larn him about things in the old world. Dear, dear, it do seem strange to me that any man should choose to starve in the cities when there’s the free wilderness to roam about in. I mind havin’ a palaver8 once wi’ a stove-up man when I was ranchin’ down in Kansas on the Indian Territory Line. Screw was his name, an’ a real kind-hearted fellow he was too—only he couldn’t keep his hand off that curse o’ mankind, the bottle. I mentioned to him my puzzlements about this matter, an’ he up fist an’ come down on the table wi’ a crack that made the glasses bounce as if they’d all come alive, an’ caused a plate o’ mush in front of him to spread itself all over the place—but he cared nothin’ for that, he was so riled up by the thowts my obsarvation had shook up.
“‘Hunky Ben,’ says he, glowerin’ at me like a bull wi’ the measles9, ‘the reason we stay there an’ don’t come out here or go to the other parts o’ God’s green ’arth is ’cause we can’t help ourselves an’ don’t know how—or what—don’t know nothin’ in fact!’
“‘That’s a busted-up state o’ ignorance, no doubt’ said I, in a soothin’ sort o’ way, for I see’d the man was riled pretty bad by ancient memories, an’ looked gittin’ waxier. He wore a black eye, too, caught in a free fight the night before, which didn’t improve his looks. ‘You said we just now,’ says I. ‘Was you one o’ them?’
“‘Of course I was,’ says he, tamin’ down a little, ‘an’ I’d bin11 one o’ them yet—if not food for worms by this time—if it hadn’t bin for a dook as took pity on me.’
“‘What’s a dook?’ says I.
“‘A dook?’ says he. ‘Why, he’s a dook, you know; a sort o’ markis—somewheres between a lord an’ a king. I don’t know zackly where, an hang me if I care; but they’re a bad lot are some o’ them dooks—rich as Pharaoh, king o’ J’rus’lem, an’ hard as nails—though I’m bound for to say they ain’t all alike. Some on ’em’s no better nor costermongers, others are men; men what keeps in mind that the same God made us all an’ will call us all to the same account, an’ that the same kind o’ worms ’ll finish us all off at last. But this dook as took pity on me was a true blue. He wasn’t one o’ the hard sort as didn’t care a rush for us so long as his own stummick was full. Neether was he one o’ the butter-mouths as dursen’t say boo to a goose. He spoke12 out to me like a man, an’ he knew well enough that I’d bin born in the London slums, an’ that my daddy had bin born there before me, an that my mother had caught her death o’ cold through havin’ to pawn13 her only pair o’ boots to pay my school fees an’ then walk barefutt to the court in a winter day to answer for not sendin’ her boy to the board school—her send me to school!—she might as well have tried to send daddy himself; an’ him out o’ work, too, an’ all on us starvin’. My dook, when he hear about it a’most bust10 wi’ passion. I hear ’im arterwards talkin’ to a overseer, or somebody, “confound it,” says he—no, not quite that, for my dook he never swore, only he said somethin’ pretty stiff—“these people are starvin’,” says he, “an’ pawnin’ their things for food to keep ’em alive, an’ they can’t git work nohow,” says he, “an’ yet you worry them out o’ body an’ soul for school fees!” I didn’t hear no more, for the overseer smoothed ’im down somehows. But that dook—that good man, Hunky Ben, paid my passage to Ameriky, an’ sent me off wi’ his blessin’ an’ a Bible. Unfortnitly I took a bottle wi’ me, an when I got to the other side I got hold of another bottle, an’ another—an’ there stands the last of ’em.’
“An’ wi’ that, Mr Brooke, he fetched the bottle in front of him such a crack wi’ his fist as sent it all to smash against the opposite wall.
“‘Well done, Screw!’ cried the boy at the bar, laughin’; ‘have another bottle?’
“Poor Screw smiled in a sheepish way, for the rile was out of him by that time, an’, says he, ‘Well, I don’t mind if I do. A shot like that deserves another!’
“Ah me!” continued the scout, “it do take the manhood out of a fellow, that drink. Even when his indignation’s roused and he tries to shake it off, he can’t do it.”
“Well do I know that, Ben. It is only God who can help a man in such a case.”
The scout gravely shook his head. “Seems to me, Mr Brooke, that there’s a screw loose some wheres in our theology, for I’ve heard parsons as well as you say that—as if the Almighty14 condescended15 to help us only when we’re in bad straits. Now, though I’m but a scout and pretend to no book larnin’, it comes in strong upon me that if God made us an’ measures our movements, an’ gives us every beat o’ the pulse, an’ counts the very hairs of our heads, we stand in need of His help in every case and at all times; that we can’t save ourselves from mischief16 under any circumstances, great or small, without Him.”
“I have thought of that too, sometimes,” said Charlie, sitting down on the rock beside his companion, and looking at him in some perplexity, “but does not the view you take savour somewhat of fatalism, and seek to free us from responsibility in regard to what we do?”
“It don’t seem so to me,” replied the scout, “I’m not speakin’, you see, so much of doin’ as of escapin’. No doubt we are perfectly17 free to will, but it don’t follow that we are free to act. I’m quite free to will to cut my leg off or to let it stay on; an’ if I carry out my will an’ do it, why, I’m quite free there too—an’ also responsible. But I ain’t free to sew it on again however much I may will to do so—leastwise if I do it won’t stick. The consekinces o’ my deed I must bear, but who will deny that the Almighty could grow on another leg if He chose? Why, some creeters He does allow to get rid of a limb or two, an’ grow new ones! So, you see, I’m responsible for my deeds, but, at the same time, I must look to God for escape from the consekinces, if He sees fit to let me escape. A man, bein’ free, may drink himself into a drunkard, but he’s not free to cure himself. He can’t do it. The demon18 Crave19 has got him by the throat, forces him to open his mouth, and pours the fiery20 poison down. The thing that he is free to do is to will. He may, if he chooses, call upon God the Saviour21 to help him; an’ my own belief is that no man ever made such a call in vain.”
“How, if that be so, are we to account for the failure of those who try, honestly strive, struggle, and agonise, yet obviously fail?”
“It’s not for the like o’ me, Mr Brooke, to expound22 the outs an’ ins o’ all mysteries. Yet I will p’int out that you, what they call, beg the question, when you say that such people ‘honestly’ strive. If a man tries to unlock a door with all his might and main, heart and soul, honestly tries, by turnin’ the key the wrong way, he’ll strive till doomsday without openin’ the door! It’s my opinion that a man may get into difficulties of his own free-will. He can get out of them only by applyin’ to his Maker23.”
During the latter part of this conversation the hunters had risen and were making their way through the trackless woods, when the scout stopped suddenly and gazed for a few seconds intently at the ground. Then he kneeled and began to examine the spot with great care. “A footprint here,” he said, “that tells of recent visitors.”
“Friends, Ben, or foes24?” asked our hero, also going on his knees to examine the marks. “Well, now, I see only a pressed blade or two of grass, but nothing the least like a footprint. It puzzles me more than I can tell how you scouts25 seem so sure about invisible marks.”
“Truly, if they was invisible you would have reason for surprise, but my wonder is that you don’t see them. Any child in wood-craft might read them. See, here is the edge o’ the right futt making a faint impression where the ground is soft—an’ the heel; surely ye see the heel!”
“A small hollow I do see, but as to its being a heel-print I could not pronounce on that. Has it been made lately, think you?”
“Ay, last night or this morning at latest; and it was made by the futt of Jake the Flint. I know it well, for I’ve had to track him more than once an’ would spot it among a thousand.”
“If Jake is in the neighbourhood, wouldn’t it be well to return to the cave? He and some of his gang might attack it in our absence.”
“No fear o’ that,” replied the scout, rising from his inspection26, “the futt p’ints away from the cave. I should say that the Flint has bin there durin’ the night, an’ found that we kep’ too sharp a look-out to be caught sleepin’. Where he went to arter that no one can tell, but we can hoof27 it an’ see. Like enough he went to spy us out alone, an’ then returned to his comrades.”
So saying, the scout “hoofed it” through the woods at a pace that tested Charlie Brooke’s powers of endurance, exceptionally good though they were. After a march of about four miles in comparative silence they were conducted by the footprints to an open space in the midst of dense28 thicket29 where the fresh ashes of a camp fire indicated that a party had spent some time.
“Just so. They came to see what was up and what could be done, found that nothin’ partiklar was up an’ nothin’ at all could be done, so off they go, mounted, to fish in other waters. Just as well for us.”
“But not so well for the fish in the other waters,” remarked Charlie.
“True, but we can’t help that. Come, we may as well return now.”
While Charlie and the scout were thus following the trail, Buck Tom, lying in the cave, became suddenly much worse. It seemed as if some string in his system had suddenly snapped and let the poor human wreck30 run down.
Poor Shank, who never left him, and who was preparing food for him at the time, was at his side in a moment, and bent32 anxiously over him.
“D’you want anything?” he asked.
“Nothing, Shank. Where’s Dick?”
“Outside; cutting some firewood.”
“Don’t call him. I’m glad we are alone,” said the outlaw33, seizing his friend’s hand with a feeble, tremulous grasp. “I’m dying, Shank, dear boy. You forgive me?”
“Forgive you, Ralph! Ay—long, long ago I—” He could not finish the sentence.
“I know you did, Shank,” returned the dying man, with a faint smile. “How it will fare with me hereafter I know not. I’ve but one word to say when I get there, and that is—guilty! I—I loved your sister, Shank. Ay—you never guessed it. I only tell you now that I may send her a message. Tell her that the words she once said to me about a Saviour have never left me. They are like a light in the darkness now. God bless you—Shank—and—May.”
With a throbbing34 heart and listening ear Shank waited for more; but no more came. The hand he still held was lifeless, and the spirit of the outlaw had entered within the veil of that mysterious Hereafter.
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1
buck
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| n.雄鹿，雄兔；v.马离地跳跃 | |
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2
eminence
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| n.卓越，显赫；高地，高处；名家 | |
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3
prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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4
swarms
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| 蜂群，一大群( swarm的名词复数 ) | |
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5
blessings
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| n.（上帝的）祝福( blessing的名词复数 )；好事；福分；因祸得福 | |
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6
scout
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| n.童子军，侦察员；v.侦察，搜索 | |
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7
wilderness
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| n.杳无人烟的一片陆地、水等，荒漠 | |
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8
palaver
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| adj.壮丽堂皇的；n.废话，空话 | |
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9
measles
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| n.麻疹，风疹，包虫病，痧子 | |
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10
bust
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| vt.打破；vi.爆裂；n.半身像；胸部 | |
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11
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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12
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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13
pawn
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| n.典当，抵押，小人物，走卒；v.典当，抵押 | |
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14
almighty
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| adj.全能的，万能的；很大的，很强的 | |
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15
condescended
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| 屈尊，俯就( condescend的过去式和过去分词 )； 故意表示和蔼可亲 | |
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16
mischief
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| n.损害，伤害，危害；恶作剧，捣蛋，胡闹 | |
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17
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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18
demon
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| n.魔鬼，恶魔 | |
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19
crave
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| vt.渴望得到，迫切需要，恳求，请求 | |
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fiery
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| adj.燃烧着的，火红的；暴躁的；激烈的 | |
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saviour
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| n.拯救者，救星 | |
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22
expound
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| v.详述；解释；阐述 | |
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23
maker
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| n.制造者，制造商 | |
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24
foes
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| 敌人，仇敌( foe的名词复数 ) | |
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25
scouts
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| 侦察员[机，舰]( scout的名词复数 )； 童子军； 搜索； 童子军成员 | |
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26
inspection
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| n.检查，审查，检阅 | |
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27
hoof
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| n.(马，牛等的)蹄 | |
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28
dense
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| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
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29
thicket
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| n.灌木丛，树林 | |
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30
wreck
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| n.失事，遇难；沉船；vt.(船等)失事，遇难 | |
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31
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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32
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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33
outlaw
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| n.歹徒，亡命之徒；vt.宣布…为不合法 | |
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throbbing
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| a. 跳动的,悸动的 | |
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