Poets are prone6 to sing of the autumn as the melancholy7 time of the year. Rather is it nature’s social season, the time when all wild things gather to celebrate with gorgeous pageantry, and to feast on the good things Mother Nature spreads before them.
Wild ducks and geese and cranes and swans filled the air or swam on pond and rivers. Partridges whirred through the groves8; sage9 hens flocked upon the flats. Deer and elk10 gathered out of their retreats far up among the{148} snowy peaks to come down into the less frosty canyons11. Herds12 of antelope14 fed and frolicked over the rolling hills. It was the time of peace and plenty that precedes the gloomy days when “all wild things lie down to sleep.”
The Indians, alive to their needs for the oncoming winter, made the most of the time to lay in an ample store of meat and skins. The hunters scoured15 the hills for game. Nixon, fearing the outcome of his attack on Alta, held his band of marauders in check for a time. Fred kept closer watch of his herd13, grazing them nearer home until, when haying was over, they were turned into the fenced meadows and he was set at other work. All hands were needed now for the roundup.
Nixon knew that his thieving business was about over, so to finish his work with a flourish that would give him added glory in the eyes of the Indians, and at the same time glut16 his desire for revenge, he made his final scheme. This worked out, he would “quit the hole forever.” His evil thought proved prophetic.
All the ranches17 were astir with preparation for the roundup. Getting ready the outfit19, broncho-breaking, roping contests were the order of the day. The old rangers20 welcomed the change. They did not take kindly21 to fol{149}lowing the “hay basket,” hauling timber, and doing the other “greaser” jobs.
“I’d a heap ruther be aboard a horse trailin’ steers23,” said Jim. “If this fencin’ business keeps up, there won’t be any use for cow-punchers in a few years. I hate them horse-murderin’ wires anyway.”
“It sure ain’t what it was a few years back,” added Noisy, a new recruit at the ranch18, whose sobriquet24 had been given because of his tendency to brag25 long and loudly. “Why, when I worked fer old Peg26 Leg Jones over on North Platte, we could ride a month and never see a fence. You knew old Peg Leg, didn’t you, Jim?”
“Yes, I remember the old cuss, well enough. He owes me two months’ pay yet.”
“He couldn’t ride a winter-killed jackass,” said Jim.
“Couldn’t, eh? Well, you never seen him, that’s all. I watched a cayuse pitch over back’ards with him one day; an’ blame me, if Old Peg didn’t come back up with that cayuse when he got up, clingin’ to the saddle and swingin’ his old rag hat, and that brute29 a buckin’ to beat the band. Beat anything I ever{150} seen. Broke his old wooden leg, but it never hurt him.”
“Is that a true lie?” asked Jim dryly.
“It’s straight goods.”
The crowd laughed.
“Wall, that ridin’s nuthin’ to crow about,” Jim went on to better the braggart30. “You ought to see Bill Hicks bust31 bronchos. I saw one pitch him thirty feet in the air and he lit right back in the saddle without a scratch. Didn’t he, Pat?”
“Sure an’ he did, and that ain’t all. When the baste32 began to buck27 again, Bill took off that saddle, while the horse was pitchin’ him, mind ye, and the bridle33, too; and then he stuck to him till the bloomin’ baste was glad to quit. And then fer a grandstand finish, he made him climb the ladder up a haystack.”
The crowd roared at the extravagant34 nonsense. Even Noisy gave up, and joined in the fun.
“The best ridin’ I ever did see, fer honest,” said Jim, “was when Tim Carter, down on Henry’s Fork, brought Old Panther to time, that roan outlaw35 of the Diamond C bunch. He stuck to the leapin’ devil like a cocklebur fer a whole hour. You remember it, don’t you, Dan?{151}”
“That was good riding,” came Dan’s quiet response; “they were both ready to give up, but Tim won out at last.”
“He was a bully36 roper, too,” added Jim, “’specially when he was on Old Buck. That old yaller horse had more sense than most men. The way he’d hold a big steer22 was a caution. Wonder where Tim is now.”
“Loafing round a Denver hospital last I heard,” returned Dan; “steers got him at last.”
“How?”
“Nary a word; how did it happen?”
“Well, he came nearly ending his trail there. He would have done it if Old Buck hadn’t saved him.”
“Tell us about it,” urged Fred, as Dan paused. The crowd were all eager to hear Dan talk.
“There isn’t much to tell,” he went on quietly; “it was just a regular stampede. We were trailing a bunch of longhorns through to Montana and one night we had them rounded up on a sagebrush flat down in the Green River country. Tim and I were taking night shift. The sky was clear enough in early evening; but ’long ’bout ten o’clock it had got black with{152} thunder clouds. The steers began to act nervous, so we kept swinging slowly round them, humming a quiet tune39 to keep ’em down. Finally, as we were passing each other, Tim said:
“‘You’d better hike for camp and rustle40 the boys; I smell trouble. Git a move; for there’s no tellin’ when these devils’ll jump.’
“I struck out, roused the boys, and hit back for the herd, but just before I reached it, there was a blinding flash of lightning and a cracking clap of thunder. The herd jumped as if shot, and bolted away in the darkness. I heard Tim’s yell to check them, but it wasn’t any use. The herd plunged41 on. He was somewhere in front of them, and I was following the roar blindly, trying to join him.
“The thunder cracked and boomed above our heads and the rain pelted42 down. The best I could do was to cling to the flanks of the herd. I couldn’t get ahead of them. It would have been madness to try. We charged on yelling and firing our revolvers in an effort to swing the mad leaders toward the drag end of the herd. If we could have got them ‘milling,’ or going in a circle, we might have stopped them.
“I caught sight of Tim just once. A vivid flash of lightning gave me a glimpse of him,{153} struggling like a Trojan in his midnight battle with the brutes43. He was right in front of that wave of clashing horns. I clapped spurs into my pony44 to reach and help him; but the herd swept on like a torrent45. And it kept on going until daylight broke. When I could get my bearings, I found myself miles away from camp with only about half the bunch. Tim was nowhere to be seen. After a while two of the boys came up and we headed the herd back. They were tired enough to be pretty tame. About sun-up we found Tim, half dead, and almost buried under Old Buck, whose useful life had been crushed out under the ripping hoofs46 of the steers. We carried Tim to camp, made a litter out of poles and blankets, and took him between two horses to the nearest station, flagged a through train and sent him down to Denver. He got over it enough to live, but he’s a cripple and always will be.”
“That’s too damned bad!” said Jim, soberly; “but it’s the kind o’ pay that’s coming to a good many of us cowpunchers.”
“Oh, cheer up, Jamie, cheer up, me boy,” said Pat; “ye can’t die more’n once.”
“’Tain’t the dyin’ that rubs,” returned Jim; “it’s this livin’ on when ye’re dead. I’d rather hev my old candle snuffed out first shot.{154}”
“Sure, me boy, sure!” agreed Pat, “but phwat would it mane, d’ye think, if we all got pitched out of this old world without a word o’ warnin’? The angels wouldn’t be ready fer us at all, at all. We’d git a hill of a wilcome.”
“We’ll git that anyway,” Jim broke into the laugh that followed.
“Will, I don’t know as I moind that so bad,” Pat went on dryly, “since I heard Mike O’Larney tell about it.”
“How was that?” asked Jim.
“Will, Mike had a dream one night. He dreamed he wint to the Great Behoind, and while he was there he visited both places.
“‘And how did you like ’em?’ I asked of him when he was a-tellin’ me.
“‘Will, Pat,’ sez he, ‘to be honest wid ye, I like hiven fer scenery; but give me hill for auld48 acquaintance.’”
“That’s all right, Pat,” said Jim, when the boys quieted again, “but I’m thinkin’ that I don’t want to be livin’ in hell here, like Tim Carter.”
“Well,” said Pat, “maybe the other side ain’t such a hivenly place, after all. Fer my part, I don’t think I’d take kindly to wearin’ wings an’ playin’ Jews’ harps49 fer all eternity50.”
“I guess you’re right, old boy; but who knows?—I tell you, Pat, let’s make a bargain.{155}”
“What’s that?”
“Well, if I die first, I’ll send my ghost back to tell you how things are over there; and if you die first you come back and tell me.”
“The divil you say. That’s a mighty51 spooky bargain, Jamie. I’ll agree to it though; but to spake me moind freely, me boy, I’ve no likin’ for ghosts.”
“Oh, bah! there ain’t any,” said Noisy.
“Ain’t, eh! well, you niver seen one, that’s all.”
“Naw—ner never will!”
“I’m not so sure about that. I think I spied one the other night when I was gittin’ some water.”
“Where?”
“Out by that grave, ’long the road where ole Bill Peter’s boy was buried, an’ afterwards dug up.
“Git out with your ghost stuff; there ain’t no such thing,” said Noisy. “Let’s have some music, Dick, and cheer up this scary bunch.”
“All right,” said Dick, as he lifted down from the log wall his battered52 guitar, inwardly pleased to center the attention of the crowd himself. He struck up a jigging53 chord and led out with a stanza54 from “Juanita.” The others chimed in, and the old shack55 was soon ringing with{156} their rough music. They tried scraps56 of this old melody and of that till they were about sung out; then some one called for an Irish song from Pat.
“Will, be jabers,” he said, “I’m no nightingale; but here goes; now jine in the chorus”; and he sang lustily to Dick’s jigging accompaniment:
As I sat by my window one evenin’
The postmaster brought unto me
A little gilt-edged invitation
Sayin’ MaHuley come over to tea;
Sure I knew that Miss Fogarty sent it,
So I goes up fer old friendship’s sake,
And the first thing they gave me to tackle
Was a piece of Miss Fogarty’s cake.
“Now all togither,” said Pat, beating time; and they gave this lusty refrain:
And the crust it was nailed down with glue;
There were carroway seeds in abundance
Sure to build up a foine stomach-ache;
It would kill a man twice, after eating a slice
Of Miss Fogarty’s Christmas cake.
“Oh, thank ye, thank ye!” said Pat, making an operatic bow with flourishes. “Now let’s try, ‘We won’t go home till mornin’.{157}”
“No, give us ‘In the evenin’ by the moonlight’ and let’s tumble in,” said Jim; “I’m gettin’ sleepy.”
Dick struck another chord and they all joined in the old negro melody. Their voices grew tender as they sang the refrain:
In the ebenin’ by the moonlight
You could hear dem darkies singin’,
In de ebenin’ by de moonlight
You could hear der banjos ringin’;
How the old folks would enjoy it,
They would sit all night and listen
As we sang in de ebening by de moonlight.
At this juncture61, Cap Hanks, who had been out making arrangements with other ranchers for the roundup, rode up to the shack.
“Here, Noisy,” he called, “I want you to carry a message to Blake’s ranch for me. And Jim, you come out to the barn with me while I put up my horse; I want to talk over my plans with you.”
“Boys, I’ll tell ye,” said Pat, when they were out of hearing, “here’s our chance to try out Noisy’s belief in ghosts. I’ve a scheme in me head. Come on.”
Eager to join in Pat’s fun, Fred and Dick jumped up and left the shack with him. On the outside lay some tent poles and a strip of white canvas. At Pat’s suggestion, they{158} grabbed up these and a rope, and hurried through the brush for the grave of which Pat had spoken. It was close to the road. The parents of the cowboy that had been buried there had requested that the body be sent home, and the boys in exhuming62 it had only half refilled the grave.
Into this hole Pat stuck the tent pole, making it stand up firmly. The canvas was thrown into the grave loose, and the rope, tied to one corner of the canvas, was threaded through an iron ring at the top of the pole. This done, the boys, holding the rope, hid in the brush a rod or so away from the grave. They had hardly quieted their chuckling63 before hoof47 beats were heard and Noisy came galloping65 up the road.
Suddenly a ghost rose out of the grave.
Noisy reined66 his horse so hard that he almost threw him on his haunches, and stared for a second; the ghost slowly sank back as he sat there stupefied with his terror. He put spurs to his horse to dash by, but up came the ghost again. Noisy whirled his pony and sped back to the barn in a panic.
“What the devil’s up?” demanded Hanks.
“I seen a-a-ghost-out-thar”—Noisy’s voice trembled like the palsy.
“Oh, to hell with your ghosts! There ain’t no such thing!” said Jim, roaring with laughter.{159}
“Go on with your message,” ordered Hanks.
“I’ll be damned if I will,” said Noisy, frightened out of his wits.
“What!” said the foreman; “well, you go or you’ll lose your job.”
“I wouldn’t go past that grave to-night for forty jobs,” said Noisy, with desperate determination in his shaking voice.
“Get off that horse, then, you cowardly son of a shotgun,” said Jim, “and give me the message. I’ll carry it through, ghosts or no ghosts.”
The boys who had caused the mischief67 stopped to listen to all this talk as they were stealing back to the shack, holding their mouths for fear of laughing too loud and giving their fun away.
Hearing Jim’s decision to go, they dashed back to the grave again to try it out on him.
Hardly were they settled when up Jim came on a swift gallop64 toward the grave. And up came the ghost as before.
Jim checked his horse suddenly and calmly demanded, “Who be ye?”
No answer came from the ghost; it simply stood there quietly in the moonlight. The rope had caught in the ring and it could not sink back.{160}
“Speak!” ordered Jim, reaching for his revolver. No answer from the ghost.
“Ping!” went a shot. A yelling and scrambling68 through the brush followed. “Don’t shoot, don’t shoot!” cried Dick.
“I thought you could speak,” said Jim; “I never seen a ghost that couldn’t.” With that he spurred his pony up to the open grave and emptied his revolver into the canvas. Then he rode on, chuckling to himself.
It cost the mischief-makers a dollar apiece to pay for the shot-riddled canvas, but the fun was worth the money.
As for Noisy, Hanks forgave him, and offered to let him keep his job, but he found it even harder to face his tormentors than ghosts.
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收听单词发音
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1
lavish
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| adj.无节制的；浪费的；vt.慷慨地给予，挥霍 | |
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artistic
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| adj.艺术(家)的，美术(家)的；善于艺术创作的 | |
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3
scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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4
hues
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| 色彩( hue的名词复数 )； 色调； 信仰； 观点 | |
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5
willow
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| n.柳树 | |
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prone
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| adj.(to)易于…的，很可能…的；俯卧的 | |
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melancholy
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| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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8
groves
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| 树丛，小树林( grove的名词复数 ) | |
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sage
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| n.圣人，哲人；adj.贤明的，明智的 | |
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elk
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| n.麋鹿 | |
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canyons
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| n.峡谷( canyon的名词复数 ) | |
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herds
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| 兽群( herd的名词复数 )； 牧群； 人群； 群众 | |
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herd
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| n.兽群，牧群；vt.使集中，把…赶在一起 | |
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antelope
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| n.羚羊；羚羊皮 | |
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scoured
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| 走遍（某地）搜寻（人或物）( scour的过去式和过去分词 )； （用力）刷； 擦净； 擦亮 | |
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16
glut
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| n.存货过多，供过于求；v.狼吞虎咽 | |
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ranches
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| 大农场， （兼种果树，养鸡等的）大牧场( ranch的名词复数 ) | |
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ranch
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| n.大牧场，大农场 | |
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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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rangers
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| 护林者( ranger的名词复数 )； 突击队员 | |
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21
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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steer
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| vt.驾驶，为…操舵；引导；vi.驾驶 | |
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23
steers
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| n.阉公牛，肉用公牛( steer的名词复数 )v.驾驶( steer的第三人称单数 )；操纵；控制；引导 | |
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24
sobriquet
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| n.绰号 | |
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brag
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| v./n.吹牛，自夸；adj.第一流的 | |
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peg
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| n.木栓，木钉；vt.用木钉钉，用短桩固定 | |
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27
buck
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| n.雄鹿，雄兔；v.马离地跳跃 | |
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28
bucked
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| adj.快v.（马等）猛然弓背跃起( buck的过去式和过去分词 )；抵制；猛然震荡；马等尥起后蹄跳跃 | |
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brute
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| n.野兽，兽性 | |
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braggart
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| n.吹牛者；adj.吹牛的，自夸的 | |
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bust
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| vt.打破；vi.爆裂；n.半身像；胸部 | |
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32
baste
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| v.殴打，公开责骂 | |
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33
bridle
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| n.笼头，束缚；vt.抑制，约束；动怒 | |
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extravagant
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| adj.奢侈的；过分的；(言行等)放肆的 | |
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outlaw
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| n.歹徒，亡命之徒；vt.宣布…为不合法 | |
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bully
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| n.恃强欺弱者，小流氓；vt.威胁，欺侮 | |
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trampled
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| 踩( trample的过去式和过去分词 )； 践踏； 无视； 侵犯 | |
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38
creek
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| n.小溪，小河，小湾 | |
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39
tune
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| n.调子；和谐，协调；v.调音，调节，调整 | |
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40
rustle
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| v.沙沙作响；偷盗(牛、马等)；n.沙沙声声 | |
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41
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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42
pelted
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| （连续地）投掷( pelt的过去式和过去分词 )； 连续抨击； 攻击； 剥去…的皮 | |
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43
brutes
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| 兽( brute的名词复数 )； 畜生； 残酷无情的人； 兽性 | |
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44
pony
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| adj.小型的；n.小马 | |
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45
torrent
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| n.激流，洪流；爆发，(话语等的)连发 | |
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46
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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47
hoof
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| n.(马，牛等的)蹄 | |
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48
auld
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| adj.老的，旧的 | |
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49
harps
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| abbr.harpsichord 拨弦古钢琴n.竖琴( harp的名词复数 ) | |
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50
eternity
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| n.不朽，来世；永恒，无穷 | |
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51
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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52
battered
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| adj.磨损的；v.连续猛击；磨损 | |
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53
jigging
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| n.跳汰选，簸选v.（使）上下急动( jig的现在分词 ) | |
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54
stanza
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| n.（诗）节，段 | |
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55
shack
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| adj.简陋的小屋，窝棚 | |
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56
scraps
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| 油渣 | |
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57
prunes
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| n.西梅脯，西梅干( prune的名词复数 )v.修剪（树木等）( prune的第三人称单数 )；精简某事物，除去某事物多余的部分 | |
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58
raisins
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| n.葡萄干( raisin的名词复数 ) | |
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59
cloves
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| n.丁香（热带树木的干花，形似小钉子，用作调味品，尤用作甜食的香料）( clove的名词复数 )；蒜瓣(a garlic ~|a ~of garlic) | |
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60
lark
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| n.云雀，百灵鸟；n.嬉戏，玩笑；vi.嬉戏 | |
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61
juncture
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| n.时刻，关键时刻，紧要关头 | |
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62
exhuming
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| v.挖出，发掘出( exhume的现在分词 ) | |
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63
chuckling
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| 轻声地笑( chuckle的现在分词 ) | |
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64
gallop
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| v./n.(马或骑马等)飞奔；飞速发展 | |
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65
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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66
reined
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| 勒缰绳使（马）停步( rein的过去式和过去分词 )； 驾驭； 严格控制； 加强管理 | |
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67
mischief
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| n.损害，伤害，危害；恶作剧，捣蛋，胡闹 | |
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68
scrambling
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| v.快速爬行( scramble的现在分词 )；攀登；争夺；（军事飞机）紧急起飞 | |
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