“And now,” said Matcham, “forth to Holywood.”
“To Holywood!” cried Dick, “when good fellows stand shot? Not I! I would see you hanged first, Jack2!”
“Ye would leave me, would ye?” Matcham asked.
“Ay, by my sooth!” returned Dick. “An I be not in time to warn these lads, I will go die with them. What! would ye have me leave my own men that I have lived among. I trow not! Give me my windac.”
But there was nothing further from Matcham’s mind.
“Dick,” he said, “ye sware before the saints that ye would see me safe to Holywood. Would ye be forsworn? Would you desert me—a perjurer3?”
“Nay4, I sware for the best,” returned Dick. “I meant it too; but now! But look ye, Jack, turn again with me. Let me but warn these men, and, if needs must, stand shot with them; then shall all be clear, and I will on again to Holywood and purge5 mine oath.”
“Ye but deride6 me,” answered Matcham. “These men ye go to succour are the I same that hunt me to my ruin.”
Dick scratched his head.
“I cannot help it, Jack,” he said. “Here is no remedy. What would ye? Ye run no great peril7, man; and these are in the way of death. Death!” he added. “Think of it! What a murrain do ye keep me here for? Give me the windac. Saint George! shall they all die?”
“Richard Shelton,” said Matcham, looking him squarely in the face, “would ye, then, join party with Sir Daniel? Have ye not ears? Heard ye not this Ellis, what he said? or have ye no heart for your own kindly8 blood and the father that men slew9? ‘Harry10 Shelton,’ he said; and Sir Harry Shelton was your father, as the sun shines in heaven.”
“What would ye?” Dick cried again. “Would ye have me credit thieves?”
“Nay, I have heard it before now,” returned Matcham. “The fame goeth currently, it was Sir Daniel slew him. He slew him under oath; in his own house he shed the innocent blood. Heaven wearies for the avenging11 on’t; and you—the man’s son—ye go about to comfort and defend the murderer!”
“Jack,” cried the lad “I know not. It may be; what know I? But, see here: This man hath bred me up and fostered me, and his men I have hunted with and played among; and to leave them in the hour of peril—O, man, if I did that, I were stark12 dead to honour! Nay, Jack, ye would not ask it; ye would not wish me to be base.”
“But your father, Dick?” said Matcham, somewhat wavering. “Your father? and your oath to me? Ye took the saints to witness.”
“My father?” cried Shelton. “Nay, he would have me go! If Sir Daniel slew him, when the hour comes this hand shall slay13 Sir Daniel; but neither him nor his will I desert in peril. And for mine oath, good Jack, ye shall absolve14 me of it here. For the lives’ sake of many men that hurt you not, and for mine honour, ye shall set me free.”
“I, Dick? Never!” returned Matcham. “An ye leave me, y’ are forsworn, and so I shall declare it.”
“My blood heats,” said Dick. “Give me the windac! Give it me!”
“I’ll not,” said Matcham. “I’ll save you in your teeth.”
“Not?” cried Dick. “I’ll make you!”
“Try it,” said the other.
They stood, looking in each other’s eyes, each ready for a spring. Then Dick leaped; and though Matcham turned instantly and fled, in two bounds he was over-taken, the windac was twisted from his grasp, he was thrown roughly to the ground, and Dick stood across him, flushed and menacing, with doubled fist. Matcham lay where he had fallen, with his face in the grass, not thinking of resistance.
“I’ll teach you!” he cried, fiercely. “Oath or no oath, ye may go hang for me!”
And he turned and began to run. Matcham was on his feet at once, and began running after him.
“What d’ye want?” cried Dick, stopping. “What make ye after me? Stand off!”
“Will follow an I please,” said Matcham. “This wood is free to me.”
“Stand back, by ’r Lady!” returned Dick, raising his bow.
“Ah, y’ are a brave boy!” retorted Matcham. “Shoot!”
Dick lowered his weapon in some confusion.
“See here,” he said. “Y’ have done me ill enough. Go, then. Go your way in fair wise; or, whether I will or not, I must even drive you to it.”
“Well,” said Matcham, doggedly16, “y’ are the stronger. Do your worst. I shall not leave to follow thee, Dick, unless thou makest me,” he added.
Dick was almost beside himself. It went against his heart to beat a creature so defenceless; and, for the life of him, he knew no other way to rid himself of this unwelcome and, as he began to think, perhaps untrue companion.
“Y’ are mad, I think,” he cried. “Fool-fellow, I am hasting to your foes17; as fast as foot can carry me, go I thither18.”
“I care not, Dick,” replied the lad. “If y’ are bound to die, Dick, I’ll die too. I would liever go with you to prison than to go free without you.”
“Well,” returned the other, “I may stand no longer prating19. Follow me, if ye must; but if ye play me false, it shall but little advance you, mark ye that. Shalt have a quarrel in thine inwards, boy.”
So saying, Dick took once more to his heels, keeping in the margin20 of the thicket21 and looking briskly about him as he went. At a good pace he rattled22 out of the dell, and came again into the more open quarters of the wood. To the left a little eminence23 appeared, spotted24 with golden gorse, and crowned with a black tuft of firs.
“I shall see from there,” he thought, and struck for it across a heathy clearing.
He had gone but a few yards, when Matcham touched him on the arm, and pointed25. To the eastward26 of the summit there was a dip, and, as it were, a valley passing to the other side; the heath was not yet out; all the ground was rusty27, like an unscoured buckler, and dotted sparingly with yews29; and there, one following another, Dick saw half a score green jerkins mounting the ascent30, and marching at their head, conspicuous31 by his boar-spear, Ellis Duckworth in person. One after another gained the top, showed for a moment against the sky, and then dipped upon the further side, until the last was gone.
Dick looked at Matcham with a kindlier eye.
“So y’ are to be true to me, Jack?” he asked. “I thought ye were of the other party.”
“Ye hurt me,” sobbed34 Matcham. “Ye hurt me when ye threw me down. Y’ are a coward to abuse your strength.”
“Nay, that is fool’s talk,” said Dick, roughly. “Y’ had no title to my windac, Master John. I would ’a’ done right to have well basted35 you. If ye go with me, ye must obey me; and so, come.”
Matcham had half a thought to stay behind; but, seeing that Dick continued to scour28 full-tilt towards the eminence and not so much as looked across his shoulder, he soon thought better of that, and began to run in turn. But the ground was very difficult and steep; Dick had already a long start, and had, at any rate, the lighter36 heels, and he had long since come to the summit, crawled forward through the firs, and ensconced himself in a thick tuft of gorse, before Matcham, panting like a deer, rejoined him, and lay down in silence by his side.
Below, in the bottom of a considerable valley, the short cut from Tunstall hamlet wound downwards37 to the ferry. It was well beaten, and the eye followed it easily from point to point. Here it was bordered by open glades39; there the forest closed upon it; every hundred yards it ran beside an ambush40. Far down the path, the sun shone on seven steel salets, and from time to time, as the trees opened, Selden and his men could be seen riding briskly, still bent upon Sir Daniel’s mission. The wind had somewhat fallen, but still tussled merrily with the trees, and, perhaps, had Appleyard been there, he would have drawn41 a warning from the troubled conduct of the birds.
“Now, mark,” Dick whispered. “They be already well advanced into the wood; their safety lieth rather in continuing forward. But see ye where this wide glade38 runneth down before us, and in the midst of it, these two score trees make like an island? There were their safety. An they but come sound as far as that, I will make shift to warn them. But my heart misgiveth me; they are but seven against so many, and they but carry cross-bows. The long-bow, Jack, will have the uppermost ever.”
Meanwhile, Selden and his men still wound up the path, ignorant of their danger, and momently drew nearer hand. Once, indeed, they paused, drew into a group, and seemed to point and listen. But it was something from far away across the plain that had arrested their attention—a hollow growl42 of cannon43 that came, from time to time, upon the wind, and told of the great battle. It was worth a thought, to be sure; for if the voice of the big guns were thus become audible in Tunstall Forest, the fight must have rolled ever eastward, and the day, by consequence, gone sore against Sir Daniel and the lords of the dark rose.
But presently the little troop began again to move forward, and came next to a very open, heathy portion of the way, where but a single tongue of forest ran down to join the road. They were but just abreast44 of this, when an arrow shone flying. One of the men threw up his arms, his horse reared, and both fell and struggled together in a mass. Even from where the boys lay they could hear the rumour45 of the men’s voices crying out; they could see the startled horses prancing46, and, presently, as the troop began to recover from their first surprise, one fellow beginning to dismount. A second arrow from somewhat farther off glanced in a wide arch; a second rider bit the dust. The man who was dismounting lost hold upon the rein47, and his horse fled galloping48, and dragged him by the foot along the road, bumping from stone to stone, and battered49 by the fleeing hoofs50. The four who still kept the saddle instantly broke and scattered51; one wheeled and rode, shrieking52, towards the ferry; the other three, with loose rein and flying raiment, came galloping up the road from Tunstall. From every clump53 they passed an arrow sped. Soon a horse fell, but the rider found his feet and continued to pursue his comrades till a second shot despatched him. Another man fell; then another horse; out of the whole troop there was but one fellow left, and he on foot; only, in different directions, the noise of the galloping of three riderless horses was dying fast into the distance.
All this time not one of the assailants had for a moment shown himself. Here and there along the path, horse or man rolled, undespatched, in his agony; but no merciful enemy broke cover to put them from their pain.
The solitary54 survivor55 stood bewildered in the road beside his fallen charger. He had come the length of that broad glade, with the island of timber, pointed out by Dick. He was not, perhaps, five hundred yards from where the boys lay hidden; and they could see him plainly, looking to and fro in deadly expectation. But nothing came; and the man began to pluck up his courage, and suddenly unslung and bent his bow. At the same time, by something in his action, Dick recognised Selden.
At this offer of resistance, from all about him in the covert56 of the woods there went up the sound of laughter. A score of men, at least, for this was the very thickest of the ambush, joined in this cruel and untimely mirth. Then an arrow glanced over Selden’s shoulder; and he leaped and ran a little back. Another dart57 struck quivering at his heel. He made for the cover. A third shaft58 leaped out right in his face, and fell short in front of him. And then the laughter was repeated loudly, rising and reechoing from different thickets59.
It was plain that his assailants were but baiting him, as men, in those days, baited the poor bull, or as the cat still trifles with the mouse. The skirmish was well over; farther down the road, a fellow in green was already calmly gathering60 the arrows; and now, in the evil pleasure of their hearts, they gave themselves the spectacle of their poor fellow-sinner in his torture.
Selden began to understand; he uttered a roar of anger, shouldered his cross-bow, and sent a quarrel at a venture into the wood. Chance favoured him, for a slight cry responded. Then, throwing down his weapon, Selden began to run before him up the glade, and almost in a straight line for Dick and Matcham.
The companions of the Black Arrow now began to shoot in earnest. But they were properly served; their chance had past; most of them had now to shoot against the sun; and Selden, as he ran, bounded from side to side to baffle and deceive their aim. Best of all, by turning up the glade he had defeated their preparations; there were no marksmen posted higher up than the one whom he had just killed or wounded; and the confusion of the foresters’ counsels soon became apparent. A whistle sounded thrice, and then again twice. It was repeated from another quarter. The woods on either side became full of the sound of people bursting through the underwood; and a bewildered deer ran out into the open, stood for a second on three feet, with nose in air, and then plunged61 again into the thicket.
Selden still ran, bounding; ever and again an arrow followed him, but still would miss. It began to appear as if he might escape. Dick had his bow armed, ready to support him; even Matcham, forgetful of his interest, took sides at heart for the poor fugitive62; and both lads glowed and trembled in the ardour of their hearts.
He was within fifty yards of them, when an arrow struck him and he fell. He was up again, indeed, upon the instant; but now he ran staggering, and, like a blind man, turned aside from his direction.
Dick leaped to his feet and waved to him.
“Here!” he cried. “This way! here is help! Nay, run, fellow—run!”
But just then a second arrow struck Selden in the shoulder, between the plates of his brigandine, and, piercing through his jack, brought him, like a stone, to earth.
“O, the poor heart!” cried Matcham, with clasped hands.
Ten to one he had speedily been shot—for the foresters were furious with themselves, and taken unawares by Dick’s appearance in the rear of their position—but instantly, out of a quarter of the wood surprisingly near to the two lads, a stentorian64 voice arose, the voice of Ellis Duckworth.
“Hold!” it roared. “Shoot not! Take him alive! It is young Shelton—Harry’s son.”
And immediately after a shrill65 whistle sounded several times, and was again taken up and repeated farther off. The whistle, it appeared, was John Amend-All’s battle trumpet66, by which he published his directions.
And the pair turned and ran back through the open pine clump that covered the summit of the hill.
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1
constraint
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| n.(on)约束，限制；限制(或约束)性的事物 | |
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2
jack
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| n.插座，千斤顶，男人；v.抬起，提醒，扛举；n.（Jake）杰克 | |
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3
perjurer
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| n.伪誓者，伪证者 | |
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4
nay
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| adv.不；n.反对票，投反对票者 | |
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5
purge
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| n.整肃，清除，泻药，净化；vt.净化，清除，摆脱；vi.清除，通便，腹泻，变得清洁 | |
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6
deride
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| v.嘲弄，愚弄 | |
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peril
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| n.(严重的)危险；危险的事物 | |
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8
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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9
slew
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| v.（使）旋转；n.大量，许多 | |
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harry
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| vt.掠夺，蹂躏，使苦恼 | |
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11
avenging
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| adj.报仇的，复仇的v.为…复仇，报…之仇( avenge的现在分词 )；为…报复 | |
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12
stark
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| adj.荒凉的；严酷的；完全的；adv.完全地 | |
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13
slay
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| v.杀死，宰杀，杀戮 | |
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14
absolve
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| v.赦免，解除（责任等） | |
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15
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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16
doggedly
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| adv.顽强地，固执地 | |
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foes
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| 敌人，仇敌( foe的名词复数 ) | |
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18
thither
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| adv.向那里；adj.在那边的，对岸的 | |
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prating
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| v.（古时用语）唠叨，啰唆( prate的现在分词 ) | |
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margin
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| n.页边空白；差额；余地，余裕；边，边缘 | |
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21
thicket
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| n.灌木丛，树林 | |
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22
rattled
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| 慌乱的，恼火的 | |
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eminence
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| n.卓越，显赫；高地，高处；名家 | |
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24
spotted
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| adj.有斑点的，斑纹的，弄污了的 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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26
eastward
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| adv.向东；adj.向东的；n.东方，东部 | |
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rusty
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| adj.生锈的；锈色的；荒废了的 | |
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28
scour
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| v.搜索；擦，洗，腹泻，冲刷 | |
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yews
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| n.紫杉( yew的名词复数 ) | |
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30
ascent
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| n.(声望或地位)提高；上升，升高；登高 | |
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31
conspicuous
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| adj.明眼的，惹人注目的；炫耀的，摆阔气的 | |
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32
sob
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| n.空间轨道的轰炸机；呜咽，哭泣 | |
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33
behold
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| v.看，注视，看到 | |
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34
sobbed
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| 哭泣，啜泣( sob的过去式和过去分词 )； 哭诉，呜咽地说 | |
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35
basted
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| v.打( baste的过去式和过去分词 )；粗缝；痛斥；（烤肉等时）往上抹[浇]油 | |
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36
lighter
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| n.打火机，点火器；驳船；v.用驳船运送；light的比较级 | |
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37
downwards
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| adj./adv.向下的（地），下行的（地） | |
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38
glade
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| n.林间空地，一片表面有草的沼泽低地 | |
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39
glades
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| n.林中空地( glade的名词复数 ) | |
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40
ambush
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| n.埋伏(地点)；伏兵；v.埋伏；伏击 | |
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41
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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42
growl
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| v.（狗等）嗥叫，（炮等）轰鸣；n.嗥叫，轰鸣 | |
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43
cannon
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| n.大炮，火炮；飞机上的机关炮 | |
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44
abreast
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| adv.并排地；跟上(时代)的步伐，与…并进地 | |
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45
rumour
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| n.谣言，谣传，传闻 | |
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46
prancing
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| v.（马）腾跃( prance的现在分词 ) | |
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47
rein
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| n.疆绳，统治，支配；vt.以僵绳控制，统治 | |
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48
galloping
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| adj. 飞驰的, 急性的 动词gallop的现在分词形式 | |
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49
battered
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| adj.磨损的；v.连续猛击；磨损 | |
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50
hoofs
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| n.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的名词复数 )v.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的第三人称单数 ) | |
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51
scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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52
shrieking
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| v.尖叫( shriek的现在分词 ) | |
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53
clump
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| n.树丛，草丛；vi.用沉重的脚步行走 | |
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54
solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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55
survivor
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| n.生存者，残存者，幸存者 | |
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56
covert
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| adj.隐藏的；暗地里的 | |
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57
dart
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| v.猛冲，投掷；n.飞镖，猛冲 | |
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58
shaft
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| n.(工具的)柄，杆状物 | |
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59
thickets
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| n.灌木丛( thicket的名词复数 )；丛状物 | |
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60
gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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61
plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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62
fugitive
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| adj.逃亡的，易逝的；n.逃犯，逃亡者 | |
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63
petrified
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| adj.惊呆的；目瞪口呆的v.使吓呆，使惊呆；变僵硬；使石化(petrify的过去式和过去分词) | |
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64
stentorian
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| adj.大声的，响亮的 | |
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65
shrill
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| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
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66
trumpet
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| n.喇叭，喇叭声；v.吹喇叭，吹嘘 | |
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67
foul
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| adj.污秽的；邪恶的；v.弄脏；妨害；犯规；n.犯规 | |
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68
undone
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| a.未做完的，未完成的 | |
参考例句： |
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