It looked good to Stubener. Beyond doubt there was a young Pat Glendon, as well as an old one, living out beyond. That night the manager spent at the logging camp of Alpine, and early the following morning he rode a mountain cayuse up Antelope Valley. He rode over the divide and down Bear Creek. He rode all day, through the wildest, [13]roughest country he had ever seen, and at sunset turned up Pinto Valley on a trail so stiff and narrow that more than once he elected to get off and walk.
It was eleven o’clock when he dismounted before a log cabin and was greeted by the baying of two huge deer-hounds. Then Pat Glendon opened the door, fell on his neck, and took him in.
“I knew ye’d come, Sam, me boy,” said Pat, the while he limped about, building a fire, boiling coffee, and frying a big bear-steak. “The young un ain’t home the night. We was gettin’ short of meat, and he went out about sundown to pick up a deer. But I’ll say no more. Wait till ye see him. He’ll be home in the morn, and then you can try him out. There’s the gloves. But wait till ye see him.
“As for me, I’m finished. Eighty-one come next January, an’ pretty good for [14]an ex-bruiser. But I never wasted meself, Sam, nor kept late hours an’ burned the candle at all ends. I had a damned good candle, an’ made the most of it, as you’ll grant at lookin’ at me. And I’ve taught the same to the young un. What do you think of a lad of twenty-two that’s never had a drink in his life nor tasted tobacco? That’s him. He’s a giant, and he’s lived natural all his days. Wait till he takes you out after deer. He’ll break your heart travelin’ light, him a carryin’ the outfit5 and a big buck6 deer belike. He’s a child of the open air, an’ winter nor summer has he slept under a roof. The open for him, as I taught him. The one thing that worries me is how he’ll take to sleepin’ in houses, an’ how he’ll stand the tobacco smoke in the ring. ‘Tis a terrible thing, that smoke, when you’re fighting hard an’ gaspin’ for air. But no more, Sam, me boy. You’re [15]tired an’ sure should be sleepin’. Wait till you see him, that’s all. Wait till you see him.”
But the garrulousness7 of age was on old Pat, and it was long before he permitted Stubener’s eyes to close.
“He can run a deer down with his own legs, that young un,” he broke out again. “’Tis the dandy trainin’ for the lungs, the hunter’s life. He don’t know much of else, though, he’s read a few books at times an’ poetry stuff. He’s just plain pure natural, as you’ll see when you clap eyes on him. He’s got the old Irish strong in him. Sometimes, the way he moons about, it’s thinkin’ strong I am that he believes in the fairies and such-like. He’s a nature lover if ever there was one, an’ he’s afeard of cities. He’s read about them, but the biggest he was ever in was Deer Lick. He misliked the many people, and his report was that [16]they’d stand weedin’ out. That was two years agone—the first and the last time he’s seen a locomotive and a train of cars.
“Sometimes it’s wrong I’m thinkin’ I am, bringin’ him up a natural. It’s given him wind and stamina8 and the strength o’ wild bulls. No city-grown man can have a look-in against him. I’m willin’ to grant that Jeffries at his best could ’a’ worried the young un a bit, but only a bit. The young un could ’a’ broke him like a straw. An’ he don’t look it. That’s the everlasting9 wonder of it. He’s only a fine-seeming young husky; but it’s the quality of his muscle that’s different. But wait till ye see him, that’s all.
“A strange liking10 the boy has for posies, an’ little meadows, a bit of pine with the moon beyond, windy sunsets, or the sun o’ morns from the top of old Baldy. An’ he has a hankerin’ for the drawin’ o’ pitchers11 of things, an’ of spouting13 [17]about ‘Lucifer or night’ from the poetry books he got from the red-headed school teacher. But ’tis only his youngness. He’ll settle down to the game once we get him started, but watch out for grouches14 when it first comes to livin’ in a city for him.
“A good thing; he’s woman-shy. They’ll not bother him for years. He can’t bring himself to understand the creatures, an’ damn few of them has he seen at that. ’Twas the school teacher over at Samson’s Flat that put the poetry stuff in his head. She was clean daffy over the young un, an’ he never a-knowin’. A warm-haired girl she was—not a mountain girl, but from down in the flat-lands—an’ as time went by she was fair desperate, an’ the way she went after him was shameless. An’ what d’ye think the boy did when he tumbled to it? He was scared as a jackrabbit. He took blankets [18]an’ ammunition15 an’ hiked for tall timber. Not for a month did I lay eyes on him, an’ then he sneaked17 in after dark and was gone in the morn. Nor would he as much as peep at her letters. ‘Burn ’em,’ he said. An’ burn ’em I did. Twice she rode over on a cayuse all the way from Samson’s Flat, an’ I was sorry for the young creature. She was fair hungry for the boy, and she looked it in her face. An’ at the end of three months she gave up school an’ went back to her own country, an’ then it was that the boy came home to the shack18 to live again.
“Women ha’ ben the ruination of many a good fighter, but they won’t be of him. He blushes like a girl if anything young in skirts looks at him a second time or too long the first one. An’ they all look at him. But when he fights, when he fights!—God! it’s the old savage19 Irish that flares20 in him, an’ drives the fists of [19]him. Not that he goes off his base. Don’t walk away with that. At my best I was never as cool as he. I misdoubt ’twas the wrath21 of me that brought the accidents. But he’s an iceberg22. He’s hot an’ cold at the one time, a live wire in an ice-chest.”
Stubener was dozing23, when the old man’s mumble24 aroused him. He listened drowsily25.
“I made a man o’ him, by God! I made a man o’ him, with the two fists of him, an’ the upstanding legs of him, an’ the straight-seein’ eyes. And I know the game in my head, an’ I’ve kept up with the times and the modern changes. The crouch26? Sure, he knows all the styles an’ economies. He never moves two inches when an inch and a half will do the turn. And when he wants he can spring like a buck kangaroo. In-fightin’? Wait till you see. Better than his out-fightin’, [20]and he could sure ’a’ sparred with Peter Jackson an’ outfooted Corbett in his best. I tell you, I’ve taught’m it all, to the last trick, and he’s improved on the teachin’. He’s a fair genius at the game. An’ he’s had plenty of husky mountain men to try out on. I gave him the fancy work and they gave him the sloggin’. Nothing shy or delicate about them. Roarin’ bulls an’ big grizzly27 bears, that’s what they are, when it comes to huggin’ in a clinch28 or swingin’ rough-like in the rushes. An’ he plays with ’em. Man, d’ye hear me?—he plays with them, like you an’ me would play with little puppy-dogs.”
Another time Stubener awoke, to hear the old man mumbling29:
“’Tis the funny think he don’t take fightin’ seriously. It’s that easy to him he thinks it play. But wait till he’s tapped a swift one. That’s all, wait. An’ you’ll see’m throw on the juice in [21]that cold storage plant of his an’ turn loose the prettiest scientific wallopin’ that ever you laid eyes on.”
In the shivery gray of mountain dawn, Stubener was routed from his blankets by old Pat.
“He’s comin’ up the trail now,” was the hoarse30 whisper. “Out with ye an’ take your first peep at the biggest fightin’ man the ring has ever seen, or will ever see in a thousand years again.”
The manager peered through the open door, rubbing the sleep from his heavy eyes, and saw a young giant walk into the clearing. In one hand was a rifle, across his shoulders a heavy deer under which he moved as if it were weightless. He was dressed roughly in blue overalls31 and woolen32 shirt open at the throat. Coat he had none, and on his feet, instead of brogans, were moccasins. Stubener noted33 that his walk was smooth and catlike, [22]without suggestion of his two hundred and twenty pounds of weight to which that of the deer was added. The fight manager was impressed from the first glimpse. Formidable the young fellow certainly was, but the manager sensed the strangeness and unusualness of him. He was a new type, something different from the run of fighters. He seemed a creature of the wild, more a night-roaming figure from some old fairy story or folk tale than a twentieth-century youth.
A thing Stubener quickly discovered was that young Pat was not much of a talker. He acknowledged old Pat’s introduction with a grip of the hand but without speech, and silently set to work at building the fire and getting breakfast. To his father’s direct questions he answered in monosyllables, as, for instance, when asked where he had picked up the deer. [23]
“South Fork,” was all he vouchsafed34.
“Eleven miles across the mountains,” the old man exposited pridefully to Stubener, “an’ a trail that’d break your heart.”
Breakfast consisted of black coffee, sourdough bread, and an immense quantity of bear-meat broiled35 over the coals. Of this the young fellow ate ravenously36, and Stubener divined that both the Glendons were accustomed to an almost straight meat diet. Old Pat did all the talking, though it was not till the meal was ended that he broached37 the subject he had at heart.
“Pat, boy,” he began, “you know who the gentleman is?”
Young Pat nodded, and cast a quick, comprehensive glance at the manager.
“Well, he’ll be takin’ you away with him and down to San Francisco.” [24]
“I’d sooner stay here, dad,” was the answer.
Stubener felt a prick38 of disappointment. It was a wild goose chase after all. This was no fighter, eager and fretting39 to be at it. His huge brawn40 counted for nothing. It was nothing new. It was the big fellows that usually had the streak41 of fat.
But old Pat’s Celtic wrath flared42 up, and his voice was harsh with command.
“You’ll go down to the cities an’ fight, me boy. That’s what I’ve trained you for, an’ you’ll do it.”
“All right,” was the unexpected response, rumbled43 apathetically44 from the deep chest.
“And fight like hell,” the old man added.
Again Stubener felt disappointment at the absence of flash and fire in the young man’s eyes as he answered: [25]
“All right. When do we start?”
“Oh, Sam, here, he’ll be wantin’ a little huntin’ and to fish a bit, as well as to try you out with the gloves.” He looked at Sam, who nodded. “Suppose you strip and give’m a taste of your quality.”
An hour later, Sam Stubener had his eyes opened. An ex-fighter himself, a heavyweight at that, he was even a better judge of fighters, and never had he seen one strip to like advantage.
“See the softness of him,” old Pat chanted. “’Tis the true stuff. Look at the slope of the shoulders, an’ the lungs of him. Clean, all clean, to the last drop an’ ounce of him. You’re lookin’ at a man, Sam, the like of which was never seen before. Not a muscle of him bound. No weight-lifter or Sandow exercise artist there. See the fat snakes of muscles a-crawlin’ soft an’ lazy-like. Wait till [26]you see them flashin’ like a strikin’ rattler. He’s good for forty rounds this blessed instant, or a hundred. Go to it! Time!”
They went to it, for three-minute rounds with a minute rests, and Sam Stubener was immediately undeceived. Here was no streak of fat, no apathy45, only a lazy, good-natured play of gloves and tricks, with a brusk stiffness and harsh sharpness in the contacts that he knew belonged only to the trained and instinctive46 fighting man.
“Easy, now, easy,” old Pat warned. “Sam’s not the man he used to be.”
This nettled47 Sam, as it was intended to do, and he played his most famous trick and favorite punch—a feint for a clinch and a right rip to the stomach. But, quickly as it was delivered, young Pat saw it, and, though it landed, his body was going away. The next time, his [27]body did not go away. As the rip started, he moved forward and twisted his left hip48 to meet it. It was only a matter of several inches, yet it blocked the blow. And thereafter, try as he would, Stubener’s glove got no farther than that hip.
Stubener had roughed it with big men in his time, and, in exhibition bouts49, had creditably held his own. But there was no holding his own here. Young Pat played with him, and in the clinches50 made him feel as powerful as a baby, landing on him seemingly at will, locking and blocking with masterful accuracy, and scarcely noticing or acknowledging his existence. Half the time young Pat seemed to spend in gazing off and out at the landscape in a dreamy sort of way. And right here Stubener made another mistake. He took it for a trick of old Pat’s training, tried to sneak16 in a short-arm jolt51, found [28]his arm in a lightning lock, and had both his ears cuffed52 for his pains.
“The instinct for a blow,” the old man chortled. “’Tis not put on, I’m tellin’ you. He is a wiz. He knows a blow without the lookin’, when it starts an’ where, the speed, an’ space, an’ niceness of it. An’ ’tis nothing I ever showed him. ’Tis inspiration. He was so born.”
Once, in a clinch, the fight manager heeled his glove on young Pat’s mouth, and there was just a hint of viciousness in the manner of doing it. A moment later, in the next clinch, Sam received the heel of the other’s glove on his own mouth. There was nothing snappy about it, but the pressure, stolidly53 lazy as it was, put his head back till the joints54 cracked and for the moment he thought his neck was broken. He slacked his body and dropped his arms in token that [29]the bout1 was over, felt the instant release, and staggered clear.
“He’ll—he’ll do,” he gasped55, looking the admiration56 he lacked the breath to utter.
Old Pat’s eyes were brightly moist with pride and triumph.
“An’ what will you be thinkin’ to happen when some of the gay an’ ugly ones tries to rough it on him?” he asked.
“He’ll kill them, sure,” was Stubener’s verdict.
“No; he’s too cool for that. But he’ll just hurt them some for their dirtiness.”
“Let’s draw up the contract,” said the manager.
“Wait till you know the whole worth of him!” Old Pat answered. “’Tis strong terms I’ll be makin’ you come to. Go for a deer-hunt with the boy over the hills an’ learn the lungs and the legs of [30]him. Then we’ll sign up iron-clad and regular.”
Stubener was gone two days on that hunt, and he learned all and more than old Pat had promised, and came back a very weary and very humble57 man. The young fellow’s innocence58 of the world had been startling to the case-hardened manager, but he had found him nobody’s fool. Virgin59 though his mind was, untouched by all save a narrow mountain experience, nevertheless he had proved possession of a natural keenness and shrewdness far beyond the average. In a way he was a mystery to Sam, who could not understand his terrible equanimity60 of temper. Nothing ruffled61 him or worried him, and his patience was of an enduring primitiveness62. He never swore, not even the futile63 and emasculated cuss-words of sissy-boys.
“I’d swear all right if I wanted to,” [31]he had explained, when challenged by his companion. “But I guess I’ve never come to needing it. When I do, I’ll swear, I suppose.”
Old Pat, resolutely64 adhering to his decision, said good-by at the cabin.
“It won’t be long, Pat, boy, when I’ll be readin’ about you in the papers. I’d like to go along, but I’m afeard it’s me for the mountains till the end.”
And then, drawing the manager aside, the old man turned loose on him almost savagely65.
“Remember what I’ve ben tellin’ ye over an’ over. The boy’s clean an’ he’s honest. He knows nothing of the rottenness of the game. I kept it all away from him, I tell you. He don’t know the meanin’ of fake. He knows only the bravery, an’ romance an’ glory of fightin’, and I’ve filled him up with tales of the old ring heroes, though little enough, God [32]knows, it’s set him afire. Man, man, I’m tellin’ you that I clipped the fight columns from the newspapers to keep it ’way from him—him a-thinkin’ I was wantin’ them for me scrap66 book. He don’t know a man ever lay down or threw a fight. So don’t you get him in anything that ain’t straight. Don’t turn the boy’s stomach. That’s why I put in the null and void clause. The first rottenness and the contract’s broke of itself. No snide division of stake-money; no secret arrangements with the movin’ pitcher12 men for guaranteed distance. There’s slathers o’ money for the both of you. But play it square or you lose. Understand?
“And whatever you’ll be doin’ watch out for the women,” was old Pat’s parting admonishment67, young Pat astride his horse and reining68 in dutifully to hear. “Women is death an’ damnation, remember that. But when you do find the one, [33]the only one, hang on to her. She’ll be worth more than glory an’ money. But first be sure, an’ when you’re sure, don’t let her slip through your fingers. Grab her with the two hands of you and hang on. Hang on if all the world goes to smash an’ smithereens. Pat, boy, a good woman is … a good woman. ’Tis the first word and the last.”
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收听单词发音
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1
bout
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| n.侵袭，发作；一次(阵，回)；拳击等比赛 | |
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alpine
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| adj.高山的；n.高山植物 | |
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antelope
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| n.羚羊；羚羊皮 | |
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creek
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| n.小溪，小河，小湾 | |
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outfit
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| n.（为特殊用途的）全套装备，全套服装 | |
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6
buck
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| n.雄鹿，雄兔；v.马离地跳跃 | |
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garrulousness
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stamina
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| n.体力；精力；耐力 | |
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everlasting
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| adj.永恒的，持久的，无止境的 | |
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10
liking
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| n.爱好；嗜好；喜欢 | |
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11
pitchers
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| 大水罐( pitcher的名词复数 ) | |
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pitcher
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| n.(有嘴和柄的)大水罐；(棒球)投手 | |
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spouting
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| n.水落管系统v.（指液体）喷出( spout的现在分词 )；滔滔不绝地讲；喋喋不休地说；喷水 | |
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14
grouches
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| n.爱抱怨的人( grouch的名词复数 )；脾气坏的人；牢骚；生气 | |
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ammunition
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| n.军火，弹药 | |
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sneak
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| vt.潜行(隐藏,填石缝)；偷偷摸摸做；n.潜行；adj.暗中进行 | |
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sneaked
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| v.潜行( sneak的过去式和过去分词 )；偷偷溜走；（儿童向成人）打小报告；告状 | |
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shack
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| adj.简陋的小屋，窝棚 | |
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savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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flares
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| n.喇叭裤v.（使）闪耀( flare的第三人称单数 )；（使）（船舷）外倾；（使）鼻孔张大；（使）（衣裙、酒杯等）呈喇叭形展开 | |
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wrath
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| n.愤怒，愤慨，暴怒 | |
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iceberg
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| n.冰山，流冰，冷冰冰的人 | |
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dozing
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| v.打瞌睡,假寐 n.瞌睡 | |
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mumble
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| n./v.喃喃而语，咕哝 | |
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drowsily
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| adv.睡地，懒洋洋地，昏昏欲睡地 | |
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crouch
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| v.蹲伏，蜷缩，低头弯腰；n.蹲伏 | |
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grizzly
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| adj.略为灰色的，呈灰色的；n.灰色大熊 | |
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clinch
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| v.敲弯，钉牢；确定；扭住对方 [参]clench | |
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mumbling
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| 含糊地说某事，叽咕，咕哝( mumble的现在分词 ) | |
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hoarse
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| adj.嘶哑的，沙哑的 | |
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overalls
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| n.（复）工装裤；长罩衣 | |
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woolen
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| adj.羊毛(制)的；毛纺的 | |
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noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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vouchsafed
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| v.给予，赐予( vouchsafe的过去式和过去分词 )；允诺 | |
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broiled
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| a.烤过的 | |
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ravenously
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| adv.大嚼地，饥饿地 | |
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broached
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| v.谈起( broach的过去式和过去分词 )；打开并开始用；用凿子扩大（或修光）；（在桶上）钻孔取液体 | |
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prick
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| v.刺伤，刺痛，刺孔；n.刺伤，刺痛 | |
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fretting
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| n. 微振磨损 adj. 烦躁的, 焦虑的 | |
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40
brawn
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| n.体力 | |
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streak
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| n.条理，斑纹，倾向，少许，痕迹；v.加条纹，变成条纹，奔驰，快速移动 | |
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42
Flared
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| adj. 端部张开的, 爆发的, 加宽的, 漏斗式的 动词flare的过去式和过去分词 | |
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43
rumbled
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| 发出隆隆声，发出辘辘声( rumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 轰鸣着缓慢行进； 发现…的真相； 看穿（阴谋） | |
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44
apathetically
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| adv.不露感情地；无动于衷地；不感兴趣地；冷淡地 | |
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45
apathy
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| n.漠不关心，无动于衷；冷淡 | |
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46
instinctive
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| adj.(出于)本能的；直觉的；(出于)天性的 | |
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47
nettled
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| v.拿荨麻打，拿荨麻刺（nettle的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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48
hip
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| n.臀部，髋；屋脊 | |
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49
bouts
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| n.拳击（或摔跤）比赛( bout的名词复数 )；一段（工作）；（尤指坏事的）一通；（疾病的）发作 | |
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50
clinches
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| n.（尤指两人）互相紧紧抱[扭]住( clinch的名词复数 )；解决（争端、交易），达成（协议）v.（尤指两人）互相紧紧抱[扭]住( clinch的第三人称单数 )；解决（争端、交易），达成（协议） | |
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51
jolt
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| v.（使）摇动，（使）震动，（使）颠簸 | |
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52
cuffed
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| v.掌打，拳打( cuff的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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53
stolidly
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| adv.迟钝地，神经麻木地 | |
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54
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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55
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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56
admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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57
humble
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| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
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58
innocence
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| n.无罪；天真；无害 | |
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59
virgin
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| n.处女，未婚女子；adj.未经使用的；未经开发的 | |
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60
equanimity
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| n.沉着，镇定 | |
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61
ruffled
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| adj. 有褶饰边的, 起皱的 动词ruffle的过去式和过去分词 | |
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62
primitiveness
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| 原始，原始性 | |
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63
futile
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| adj.无效的，无用的，无希望的 | |
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64
resolutely
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| adj.坚决地，果断地 | |
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65
savagely
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| adv. 野蛮地，残酷地 | |
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66
scrap
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| n.碎片；废料；v.废弃，报废 | |
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admonishment
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| n.警告 | |
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reining
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| 勒缰绳使（马）停步( rein的现在分词 )； 驾驭； 严格控制； 加强管理 | |
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