When he went into the barn to see the horses, the first creatures to meet his eye were the two big mules3 that had run away with him, standing4 in the stalls next the door. It flashed upon Claude that these muscular quadrupeds were the actual authors of his fate. If they had not bolted with him and thrown him into the wire fence that morning, Enid would not have felt sorry for him and come to see him every day, and his life might have turned out differently. Perhaps if older people were a little more honest, and a boy were not taught to idealize in women the very qualities which can make him utterly5 unhappy — But there, he had got away from those regrets. But wasn’t it just like him to be dragged into matrimony by a pair of mules!
He laughed as he looked at them. “You old devils, you’re strong enough to play such tricks on green fellows for years to come. You’re chock full of meanness!”
One of the animals wagged an ear and cleared his throat threateningly. Mules are capable of strong affections, but they hate snobs6, are the enemies of caste, and this pair had always seemed to detect in Claude what his father used to call his “false pride.” When he was a young lad they had been a source of humiliation7 to him, braying8 and balking9 in public places, trying to show off at the lumber10 yard or in front of the post office.
At the end manger Claude found old Molly, the grey mare11 with the stiff leg, who had grown a second hoof12 on her off forefoot, an achievement not many horses could boast of. He was sure she recognized him; she nosed his hand and arm and turned back her upper lip, showing her worn, yellow teeth.
“Mustn’t do that, Molly,” he said as he stroked her. “A dog can laugh, but it makes a horse look foolish. Seems to me Dan might curry13 you about once a week!” He took a comb from its niche14 behind a joist and gave her old coat a rubbing. Her white hair was flecked all over with little rust-coloured dashes, like India ink put on with a fine brush, and her mane and tail had turned a greenish yellow. She must be eighteen years old, Claude reckoned, as he polished off her round, heavy haunches. He and Ralph used to ride her over to the Yoeders’ when they were barefoot youngsters, guiding her with a rope halter, and kicking at the leggy colt that was always running alongside.
When he entered the kitchen and asked Mahailey for warm water to wash his hands, she sniffed15 him disapprovingly16.
“Why, Mr. Claude, you’ve been curryin’ that old mare, and you’ve got white hairs all over your soldier-clothes. You’re jist covered!”
If his uniform stirred feeling in people of sober judgment17, over Mahailey it cast a spell. She was so dazzled by it that all the time Claude was at home she never once managed to examine it in detail. Before she got past his puttees, her powers of observation were befogged by excitement, and her wits began to jump about like monkeys in a cage. She had expected his uniform to be blue, like those she remembered, and when he walked into the kitchen last night she scarcely knew what to make of him. After Mrs. Wheeler explained to her that American soldiers didn’t wear blue now, Mahailey repeated to herself that these brown clothes didn’t show the dust, and that Claude would never look like the bedraggled men who used to stop to drink at her mother’s spring.
“Them leather leggins is to keep the briars from scratchin’ you, ain’t they? I ‘spect there’s an awful lot of briars over there, like them long blackberry vines in the fields in Virginia. Your madder says the soldiers git lice now, like they done in our war. You jist carry a little bottle of coal-oil in your pocket an’ rub it on your head at night. It keeps the nits from hatchin’.”
Over the flour barrel in the corner Mahailey had tacked18 a Red Cross poster; a charcoal19 drawing of an old woman poking20 with a stick in a pile of plaster and twisted timbers that had once been her home. Claude went over to look at it while he dried his hands.
“Where did you get your picture?”
“She’s over there where you’re goin’, Mr. Claude. There she is, huntin’ for somethin’ to cook with; no stove nor no dishes nor nothin’ — everything all broke up. I reckon she’ll be mighty21 glad to see you comin’.”
Heavy footsteps sounded on the stairs, and Mahailey whispered hastily, “Don’t forgit about the coal-oil, and don’t you be lousy if you can help it, honey.” She considered lice in the same class with smutty jokes, — things to be whispered about.
After breakfast Mr. Wheeler took Claude out to the fields, where Ralph was directing the harvesters. They watched the binder22 for a while, then went over to look at the haystacks and alfalfa, and walked along the edge of the cornfield, where they examined the young ears. Mr. Wheeler explained and exhibited the farm to Claude as if he were a stranger; the boy had a curious feeling of being now formally introduced to these acres on which he had worked every summer since he was big enough to carry water to the harvesters. His father told him how much land they owned, and how much it was worth, and that it was unencumbered except for a trifling23 mortgage he had given on one quarter when he took over the Colorado ranch24.
“When you come back,” he said, “you and Ralph won’t have to hunt around to get into business. You’ll both be well fixed25. Now you’d better go home by old man Dawson’s and drop in to see Susie. Everybody about here was astonished when Leonard went.” He walked with Claude to the corner where the Dawson land met his own. “By the way,” he said as he turned back, “don’t forget to go in to see the Yoeders sometime. Gus is pretty sore since they had him up in court. Ask for the old grandmother. You remember she never learned any English. And now they’ve told her it’s dangerous to talk German, she don’t talk at all and hides away from everybody. If I go by early in the morning, when she’s out weeding the garden, she runs and squats26 down in the gooseberry bushes till I’m out of sight.”
Claude decided27 he would go to the Yoeders’ today, and to the Dawsons’ tomorrow. He didn’t like to think there might be hard feeling toward him in a house where he had had so many good times, and where he had often found a refuge when things were dull at home. The Yoeder boys had a music-box long before the days of Victrolas, and a magic lantern, and the old grandmother made wonderful shadow-pictures on a sheet, and told stories about them. She used to turn the map of Europe upside down on the kitchen table and showed the children how, in this position, it looked like a jungfrau; and recited a long German rhyme which told how Spain was the maiden’s head, the Pyrenees her lace ruff, Germany her heart and bosom28, England and Italy were two arms, and Russia, though it looked so big, was only a hoopskirt. This rhyme would probably be condemned29 as dangerous propaganda now!
As he walked on alone, Claude was thinking how this country that had once seemed little and dull to him, now seemed large and rich in variety. During the months in camp he had been wholly absorbed in new work and new friendships, and now his own neighbourhood came to him with the freshness of things that have been forgotten for a long while, — came together before his eyes as a harmonious30 whole. He was going away, and he would carry the whole countryside in his mind, meaning more to him than it ever had before. There was Lovely Creek, gurgling on down there, where he and Ernest used to sit and lament31 that the book of History was finished; that the world had come to avaricious32 old age and noble enterprise was dead for ever. But he was going away. . . .
That afternoon Claude spent with his mother. It was the first time she had had him to herself. Ralph wanted terribly to stay and hear his brother talk, but understanding how his mother felt, he went back to the wheat field. There was no detail of Claude’s life in camp so trivial that Mrs. Wheeler did not want to hear about it. She asked about the mess, the cooks, the laundry, as well as about his own duties. She made him describe the bayonet drill and explain the operation of machine guns and automatic rifles.
“I hardly see how we can bear the anxiety when our transports begin to sail,” she said thoughtfully. “If they can once get you all over there, I am not afraid; I believe our boys are as good as any in the world. But with submarines reported off our own coast, I wonder how the Government can get our men across safely. The thought of transports going down with thousands of young men on board is something so terrible — ” she put her hands quickly over her eyes.
Claude, sitting opposite his mother, wondered what it was about her hands that made them so different from any others he had ever seen. He had always known they were different, but now he must look closely and see why. They were slender, and always white, even when the nails were stained at preserving time. Her fingers arched back at the joints33, as if they were shrinking from contacts. They were restless, and when she talked often brushed her hair or her dress lightly. When she was excited she sometimes put her hand to her throat, or felt about the neck of her gown, as if she were searching for a forgotten brooch. They were sensitive hands, and yet they seemed to have nothing to do with sense, to be almost like the groping fingers of a spirit.
“How do you boys feel about it?”
Claude started. “About what, Mother? Oh, the transportation! We don’t worry about that. It’s the Government’s job to get us across. A soldier mustn’t worry about anything except what he’s directly responsible for. If the Germans should sink a few troop ships, it would be unfortunate, certainly, but it wouldn’t cut any figure in the long run. The British are perfecting an enormous dirigible, built to carry passengers. If our transports are sunk, it will only mean delay. In another year the Yankees will be flying over. They can’t stop us.”
Mrs. Wheeler bent34 forward. “That must be boys’ talk, Claude. Surely you don’t believe such a thing could be practicable?”
“Absolutely. The British are depending on their aircraft designers to do just that, if everything else fails. Of course, nobody knows yet how effective the submarines will be in our case.”
Mrs. Wheeler again shaded her eyes with her hand. “When I was young, back in Vermont, I used to wish that I had lived in the old times when the world went ahead by leaps and bounds. And now, I feel as if my sight couldn’t bear the glory that beats upon it. It seems as if we would have to be born with new faculties35, to comprehend what is going on in the air and under the sea.”
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1
creek
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| n.小溪，小河，小湾 | |
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crunch
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| n.关键时刻；艰难局面；v.发出碎裂声 | |
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3
mules
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| 骡( mule的名词复数 )； 拖鞋； 顽固的人； 越境运毒者 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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6
snobs
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| （谄上傲下的）势利小人( snob的名词复数 )； 自高自大者，自命不凡者 | |
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7
humiliation
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| n.羞辱 | |
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8
braying
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| v.发出驴叫似的声音( bray的现在分词 )；发嘟嘟声；粗声粗气地讲话（或大笑）；猛击 | |
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9
balking
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| n.慢行，阻行v.畏缩不前，犹豫( balk的现在分词 )；（指马）不肯跑 | |
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10
lumber
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| n.木材，木料；v.以破旧东西堆满；伐木；笨重移动 | |
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mare
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| n.母马，母驴 | |
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hoof
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| n.(马，牛等的)蹄 | |
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13
curry
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| n.咖哩粉，咖哩饭菜；v.用咖哩粉调味，用马栉梳，制革 | |
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14
niche
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| n.壁龛；合适的职务(环境、位置等) | |
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15
sniffed
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| v.以鼻吸气，嗅，闻( sniff的过去式和过去分词 )；抽鼻子（尤指哭泣、患感冒等时出声地用鼻子吸气）；抱怨，不以为然地说 | |
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disapprovingly
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| adv.不以为然地，不赞成地，非难地 | |
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judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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18
tacked
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| 用平头钉钉( tack的过去式和过去分词 )； 附加，增补； 帆船抢风行驶，用粗线脚缝 | |
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19
charcoal
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| n.炭，木炭，生物炭 | |
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poking
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| n. 刺，戳，袋 vt. 拨开，刺，戳 vi. 戳，刺，捅，搜索，伸出，行动散慢 | |
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21
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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binder
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| n.包扎物，包扎工具；[法]临时契约；粘合剂；装订工 | |
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trifling
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| adj.微不足道的；没什么价值的 | |
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ranch
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| n.大牧场，大农场 | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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26
squats
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| n.蹲坐，蹲姿( squat的名词复数 )；被擅自占用的建筑物v.像动物一样蹲下( squat的第三人称单数 )；非法擅自占用（土地或房屋）；为获得其所有权；而占用某片公共用地。 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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29
condemned
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| adj. 被责难的, 被宣告有罪的 动词condemn的过去式和过去分词 | |
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30
harmonious
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| adj.和睦的，调和的，和谐的，协调的 | |
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lament
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| n.悲叹，悔恨，恸哭；v.哀悼，悔恨，悲叹 | |
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32
avaricious
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| adj.贪婪的，贪心的 | |
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33
joints
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| 接头( joint的名词复数 )； 关节； 公共场所（尤指价格低廉的饮食和娱乐场所） （非正式）； 一块烤肉 （英式英语） | |
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34
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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35
faculties
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| n.能力( faculty的名词复数 )；全体教职员；技巧；院 | |
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