On the rich flats of Nameless, Nance1 Allison tilled her soil and her blue eyes caressed2 the land. She loved every sparkling ripple3 of the whispering stream, every cloud-shadow on the austere4 slopes, each jutting5 shoulder of ridge6 and spine7. The homestead was a fetish with her. It had been her Pappy’s dream of empire. It was hers. He had stuck by and toiled8, had secured his patent, made the good start.
But strange disasters had befallen her, one after the other—first and bitterest, the hidden rope stretched in a cattle trail two years back, just after John Allison’s mysterious death, which sent young Bud’s pony10 tumbling to the gulch11 below and left the boy to walk lopsided ever after.
At that the girl had almost weakened in her stubborn purpose. She had held the young head in her arms many a weary hour when the pain was worst, and tried to build a plan of a future away from Nameless Valley, but Bud would not listen. The bare thought made him fret12 and toss, sent the red blood burning in his cheeks.
“We’ll never let ’em beat us out, Nance,” he would pant with his hot breath, “the land is ours, safe and legal, and no bunch o’ cut-throats is goin’ to get it from us. Not while we can stand—not while we can ride or plow13—or use a gun!”
But Nance would stop him always there.
“‘Thy rod and Thy staff they comfort me,’” she would say gently, “we have no need of guns, Bud.”
However, as the seasons passed, each with its promise and its inevitable14 blight15, her face had became graver, less smiling. There had been the hay fire then—the fire in the night where no fire was or had been. There had been the six fat steers16 that disappeared from the range and were never heard of, though Bud rode Buckskin to a lather17 in a fruitless search for them. There had been the good harness cut to pieces one night when Bud had forgotten to lock it up.
All these had been disasters in a real sense to these people living so meagerly with their scant18 possessions.
And this year they were more than poor, they were in debt to McKane for the new harness that had to be bought to replace the other. But Nance looked at her field of corn coming in long rows of tender green on the brown floor of the well worked land and hoped. She was prone19 to hope. It was part of her equipment for the battle of life, her shield before the lance of her courage, her buckler of energy.
“It looks like a heavy crop, McKane,” she told the trader honestly, “and I’ll have far and away more than enough for you—I think I’ll have enough left for my winter stake.”
“Hope you do,” said McKane, for though he was none too scrupulous20 where his own interests were concerned, he felt a vague admiration21 for the game girl working her lonely homestead in her dead father’s place.
So, with the crop spreading its four delicate blades to the coaxing23 sun and the hay knee-deep in the big fenced flat across the river, Nance Allison laid by her labors24 for a while to rest her body and refresh her soul.
“I’ve just got to ride the hills, Mammy,” she said smiling, “got to fish the holes in Blue Stone Cañon, to climb the slopes for a little while. It will be my only chance, you know—there’s the hay to cut soon and the corn to cultivate, and the cattle to look after later. I can’t work all the year, Mammy, without a little play.”
At which the mother’s tragic25 eyes filled with tears—this for her daughter’s only play—the riding in the lonesome hills—the fishing for trout26 in a shadowed cañon—when her young feet should have been tripping to the lilt of fiddles—when she should have had ribbons and muslin flounces, and a sweetheart—the things of youth ere her youth should pass! Pass, toiling27 at the handles of a plow! It was a poignant28 pain indeed, that brought those insistent29 tears, that withheld30 the fear-urged protest.
So, in the golden mornings, Nance began to saddle Buckskin and ride away, a snack of bread and bacon tied behind the cantle, to come ambling31 home at dusk happy, sweet, filled with the joy of life, sometimes a string of speckled beauties dangling32 at her knee, sometimes empty handed.
Sometimes Bud went with her, but it was not fair to Dan and Molly, the heavy team, to cheat them of their share of rest, since Bud must ride one or the other of them, and so Nance rode for the most part alone.
She “lifted up her eyes to the hills” in all truth and drew from them a very present strength. The dark, blue-green slopes of the tumbling ridges33, covered with a tapestry34 of finely picked out points of pine and fir-trees, filled her with the joy of the nature lover, the awed35 humility36 of the humble37 heart which considers the handiwork of God.
She lay for hours on some bleached38 log high in a sunny glade39, her hands under her fair head, her lips smiling unconsciously, her long blue eyes dreaming into the cloud-flecked heavens, and sometimes she wondered what the future held for her after the fashion of maids since the world began. She recalled the restless wanderings of the family in her early years, remembered vaguely40 the home and the school in old Missouri, her father’s ceaseless urge for travel. And then had come their journey’s end, here in the austere loneliness of Nameless Valley, where his nomad41 heart had settled down and had been at home. She thought of these familiar things, and of others not familiar, such as picturing the house she and Bud would one day build on the big meadow, with running water piped from the rushing stream itself, with carpets—Mrs. Allison was already sewing interminable balls of “rags” for the fabric42—and with such simple comforts as seemed to her nothing short of luxuries. She knew of a woman in Bement who wove carpets, a Mrs. Porter, at the reasonable price of thirty cents a yard, warp43 included. The warp should be brown-and-white, she decided44—at least she had so decided long back after many conferences with her mother.
Brown and white running softly through the dim colors of the rags—nothing new enough to be bright went into the balls, though there would be a soft golden glow all through the hit-and-miss fabric from the “hanks” dyed with copperas—brown and white, Nance thought, would make it seem like the floor of the woods in fall, weathered and beautiful.
She could scarcely wait the time of the fulfillment of this dress, when the cabin floors should be soft under foot.
Longing45 for the refinements46 was strong in her, though limited painfully to such simple scope as Cordova supplied, or as she remembered dimly from the days of her childhood in Missouri.
But the glory of the land was too compelling for idle dreams of the future. Here at hand were carpets of brown pine needles, shot through with scarlet47 bleeding hearts.
Here were mosses48 soft and wonderful when one bent49 close enough to study their minute and intricate patterns. Here were vast distances and dropping slopes, veiled in pale blue haze50 so delicate as to seem an hallucination.
Here also, were the mysterious fastnesses of Blue Stone Cañon, its perpendicular51 walls of eroded52 rock cut by seam and fissure53, its hollow aisles54 resonant55 always of the murmurous56 stream that tumbled through them.
Nance loved the cañon. She liked to climb among its boulders57, to whip its frequent pools for the trout that hung in their moving smoothness, to listen to the thousand voices that seemed always whispering and talking. They were made of fairy stuff and madness, these voices. If one sat still and listened long enough he could swear that they were real, that strange concourses discussed the secrets of the spheres. On the hottest days of summer the cañon was cool, for a wind drew always through it from its unknown head somewhere in the Deep Hearts themselves far to the north and east. Buckskin felt the mysterious influence of the soundful silence, pricking58 his ears, listening, holding his breath to let it out in snorts, and Nance laughed at his uneasiness.
“Buckskin,” she said one day, as she lay stretched at length on a flat rock beside a boiling riffle, “you’re a bundle of nerves, a natural-born finder of fears. There isn’t a thing bigger or uglier than yourself in all the cañon—unless it’s a panther skulking59 up in the branches, and he wouldn’t come near for a fortune—though what could be fortune to a cougar60, I wonder?” she went on to herself, smiling at the strip of sky that topped the frowning rimrock, “only a full belly61, I guess—the murderer.”
She lay a long time basking62 in the sun that shone straight down, for it was noon, revelling63 in the relaxation64 of her young body, long worked to the limit and frankly65 tired.
She took her bread and bacon from a pocket and ate with the relish66 which only healthy youth can muster67, clearing up the last crumb68, drank from the stream, her face to the surface, and finally rose with a long breath of satisfaction.
“You can stay here, you old fraid-cat,” she said to the pony, dropping his rein69 over his head, “it’s hard on your feet, anyway. Me—I’m going on up a ways.”
Buckskin looked anxiously after her, but stayed where he was bid, as a well-trained horse should do, and the girl went on up the cañon, her fair head bare, her hands on her hips70.
She drank in the sombre beauty of the dull blue walls, hung to their towering rims71 with coruscation72 and prominence73 carved fantastically by the erosion of uncounted years—listened, lips apart the better to hear, to the deep blended monotone of the talking voices.
She skirted great boulders fallen from above, waded74 a riffle here, leaped a narrow there, and always the great cut became rougher, wilder, more forbidding and mysterious.
She stood for a long time beside a pool that lay, still-seeming and dark, behind a huge rock, but in whose shadowed depths she could see the swirling75 of white sand that marked its turmoil76.
The cañon widened here a bit, its floor strewn with jumbled77 boulders, its walls honeycombed with water-eaten caves.
When the snows melted in the high gulches78 of the Deep Hearts a little later, this place would be a roaring race. She thought of its foamy79 volume pouring from the cañon’s mouth to swell80 the flood of the Nameless a bit below her southern boundary. But it was a lone22 and lovely spot now, what with its peopled silence and its blue-toned walls.
These things were passing through her mind as she watched the swirling sand, when all of a sudden, as if an invisible hand had brushed her, she became alert in every fibre.
She had heard nothing new in the murmurous monotone, seen no shadow among the pale shadows about her, yet something had changed. Some different element had intruded81 itself into the stark82 elements of the place.
Her skin rose in tiny prickles, she felt her muscles stiffen83. She had lived in the face of menace so long that she was super-sensitive and had developed a seventh sense that was quick to the nth degree.
She stood for a moment gathering84 her powers, then she whirled in her tracks, sweeping85 the cañon’s width with eyes that missed nothing.
They did not miss the movement which was almost too swift for sight—the dropping of some dark object behind a rock, the passing of a bit of plumy tail.
The rock itself was between her and the broken foot of the wall, one of a mass that had tumbled from the weathered face. For a long time she stood very still, waiting, watching with unwinking eyes. Then, at the rock’s edge, but farther away, she caught another glimpse of that tail-tip. Its wearer was making for the wall-foot, keeping the rock between. A wolf would do so—but there was something about that bit of plume86 which did not spell wolf. It was tawny87 white, and it was more loosely haired, not of the exact quality of a wolf’s brush. Once more a tiny tip showed—and on a sudden daring impulse Nance Allison leaped for the rock, caught its top with both hands and peered over.
With a snarl88 and a whirl the owner of the tail faced her in the low mouth of a cave, his pointed89 ears flat to his head, his feet spread wide apart, his back dropped, his jaws90 apart and ready, and round his outstretched neck there stood up in quivering defiance91, the broad white ruff of a pure-bred Collie dog!
The girl stared at him with open-mouthed amazement—and at the more astonishing thing which lay along the pebbled92 earth beneath him—for this was the thin little leg and foot of a small child.
In utter silence and stillness she stood so, her hands on the rock’s top, and for all the length of time that she watched there was not a tremor93 of the little leg, nor a movement of the dog’s crouching94 body. The only motion in the tense picture was the ripple of the stream, the quiver of the lips drawn95 back from the gleaming fangs96.
“Come, boy,” she said, “come—boy—come.”
She ventured a hand across the rock, but the quivering lips drew back a trifle more, the big body crouched99 a bit lower—and the little bare leg draw out of sight behind the edge of the cave.
Carefully the girl slipped back from the rock toward the pool, gained its lip, and dropped swiftly away down the cañon.
At a little distance she drew a deep breath and looked back.
The mouth of the cave was black and vacant.
There was no sign of fiery101 eyes and slavering jaws, of a thin little leg under a fringe of blue jeans rags!
With eyes dilated102 and lips closed in amazed silence Nance Allison made her way back to Buckskin, mounted and returned to the flats of Nameless.
She had found Mystery with a capital, but she knew that she must wait with patience its unravelling103.
Those pale eyes between the flat ears held a challenge which only a fool would disregard—it would take time and patience.
But, for the love of humanity, why was a child hiding like a fawn104 in Blue Stone Cañon—with only a dog to guard it—and with no sign of camp or people?
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1
nance
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| n.娘娘腔的男人，男同性恋者 | |
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caressed
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| 爱抚或抚摸…( caress的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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ripple
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| n.涟波，涟漪，波纹，粗钢梳；vt.使...起涟漪，使起波纹； vi.呈波浪状，起伏前进 | |
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austere
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| adj.艰苦的；朴素的，朴实无华的；严峻的 | |
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jutting
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| v.（使）突出( jut的现在分词 )；伸出；（从…）突出；高出 | |
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ridge
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| n.山脊；鼻梁；分水岭 | |
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spine
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| n.脊柱，脊椎；(动植物的)刺；书脊 | |
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toiled
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| 长时间或辛苦地工作( toil的过去式和过去分词 )； 艰难缓慢地移动，跋涉 | |
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prosper
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| v.成功，兴隆，昌盛；使成功，使昌隆，繁荣 | |
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pony
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| adj.小型的；n.小马 | |
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gulch
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| n.深谷，峡谷 | |
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fret
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| v.(使)烦恼；(使)焦急；(使)腐蚀，(使)磨损 | |
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13
plow
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| n.犁，耕地，犁过的地；v.犁，费力地前进[英]plough | |
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inevitable
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| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
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blight
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| n.枯萎病；造成破坏的因素；vt.破坏，摧残 | |
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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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lather
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| n.(肥皂水的)泡沫，激动 | |
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scant
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| adj.不充分的，不足的；v.减缩，限制，忽略 | |
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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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scrupulous
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| adj.审慎的，小心翼翼的，完全的，纯粹的 | |
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admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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lone
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| adj.孤寂的，单独的；唯一的 | |
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coaxing
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| v.哄，用好话劝说( coax的现在分词 )；巧言骗取；哄劝，劝诱；“锻炼”效应 | |
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24
labors
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| v.努力争取(for)( labor的第三人称单数 )；苦干；详细分析；（指引擎）缓慢而困难地运转 | |
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25
tragic
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| adj.悲剧的，悲剧性的，悲惨的 | |
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trout
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| n.鳟鱼；鲑鱼(属) | |
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27
toiling
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| 长时间或辛苦地工作( toil的现在分词 )； 艰难缓慢地移动，跋涉 | |
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poignant
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| adj.令人痛苦的，辛酸的，惨痛的 | |
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insistent
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| adj.迫切的，坚持的 | |
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30
withheld
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| withhold过去式及过去分词 | |
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ambling
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| v.（马）缓行( amble的现在分词 )；从容地走，漫步 | |
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dangling
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| 悬吊着( dangle的现在分词 )； 摆动不定； 用某事物诱惑…； 吊胃口 | |
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33
ridges
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| n.脊( ridge的名词复数 )；山脊；脊状突起；大气层的)高压脊 | |
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tapestry
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| n.挂毯，丰富多采的画面 | |
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awed
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| adj.充满敬畏的，表示敬畏的v.使敬畏，使惊惧( awe的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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humility
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| n.谦逊，谦恭 | |
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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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38
bleached
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| 漂白的，晒白的，颜色变浅的 | |
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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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vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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nomad
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| n.游牧部落的人，流浪者，游牧民 | |
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42
fabric
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| n.织物，织品，布；构造，结构，组织 | |
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warp
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| vt.弄歪，使翘曲，使不正常，歪曲，使有偏见 | |
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44
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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longing
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| n.（for）渴望 | |
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refinements
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| n.（生活）风雅；精炼( refinement的名词复数 )；改良品；细微的改良；优雅或高贵的动作 | |
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scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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48
mosses
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| n. 藓类, 苔藓植物 名词moss的复数形式 | |
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49
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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50
haze
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| n.霾，烟雾；懵懂，迷糊；vi.(over)变模糊 | |
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perpendicular
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| adj.垂直的，直立的；n.垂直线，垂直的位置 | |
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eroded
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| adj. 被侵蚀的，有蚀痕的 动词erode的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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53
fissure
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| n.裂缝；裂伤 | |
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54
aisles
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| n. (席位间的)通道, 侧廊 | |
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55
resonant
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| adj.(声音)洪亮的，共鸣的 | |
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murmurous
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| adj.低声的 | |
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boulders
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| n.卵石( boulder的名词复数 )；巨砾；（受水或天气侵蚀而成的）巨石；漂砾 | |
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pricking
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| 刺，刺痕，刺痛感 | |
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skulking
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| v.潜伏，偷偷摸摸地走动，鬼鬼祟祟地活动( skulk的现在分词 ) | |
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cougar
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| n.美洲狮；美洲豹 | |
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belly
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| n.肚子，腹部；(像肚子一样)鼓起的部分，膛 | |
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basking
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| v.晒太阳，取暖( bask的现在分词 )；对…感到乐趣；因他人的功绩而出名；仰仗…的余泽 | |
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revelling
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| v.作乐( revel的现在分词 )；狂欢；着迷；陶醉 | |
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relaxation
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| n.松弛，放松；休息；消遣；娱乐 | |
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frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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relish
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| n.滋味，享受，爱好，调味品；vt.加调味料，享受，品味；vi.有滋味 | |
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67
muster
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| v.集合，收集，鼓起，激起；n.集合，检阅，集合人员，点名册 | |
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crumb
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| n.饼屑，面包屑，小量 | |
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rein
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| n.疆绳，统治，支配；vt.以僵绳控制，统治 | |
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hips
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| abbr.high impact polystyrene 高冲击强度聚苯乙烯，耐冲性聚苯乙烯n.臀部( hip的名词复数 )；[建筑学]屋脊；臀围（尺寸）；臀部…的 | |
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71
rims
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| n.（圆形物体的）边( rim的名词复数 )；缘；轮辋；轮圈 | |
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72
coruscation
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| n.闪光，焕发 | |
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73
prominence
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| n.突出；显著；杰出；重要 | |
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74
waded
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| （从水、泥等）蹚，走过，跋( wade的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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swirling
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| v.旋转，打旋( swirl的现在分词 ) | |
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turmoil
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| n.骚乱，混乱，动乱 | |
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77
jumbled
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| adj.混乱的；杂乱的 | |
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78
gulches
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| n.峡谷( gulch的名词复数 ) | |
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79
foamy
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| adj.全是泡沫的，泡沫的，起泡沫的 | |
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80
swell
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| vi.膨胀，肿胀；增长，增强 | |
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81
intruded
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| n.侵入的，推进的v.侵入，侵扰，打扰( intrude的过去式和过去分词 )；把…强加于 | |
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82
stark
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| adj.荒凉的；严酷的；完全的；adv.完全地 | |
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83
stiffen
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| v.(使)硬，(使)变挺，(使)变僵硬 | |
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84
gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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85
sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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86
plume
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| n.羽毛；v.整理羽毛，骚首弄姿，用羽毛装饰 | |
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87
tawny
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| adj.茶色的，黄褐色的；n.黄褐色 | |
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88
snarl
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| v.吼叫，怒骂，纠缠，混乱；n.混乱，缠结，咆哮 | |
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89
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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90
jaws
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| n.口部；嘴 | |
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defiance
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| n.挑战，挑衅，蔑视，违抗 | |
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92
pebbled
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| 用卵石铺（pebble的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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93
tremor
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| n.震动，颤动，战栗，兴奋，地震 | |
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crouching
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的现在分词 ) | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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96
fangs
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| n.（尤指狗和狼的）长而尖的牙( fang的名词复数 )；（蛇的）毒牙；罐座 | |
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unbearable
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| adj.不能容忍的；忍受不住的 | |
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98
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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99
crouched
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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100
enchanted
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| adj. 被施魔法的，陶醉的，入迷的 动词enchant的过去式和过去分词 | |
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101
fiery
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| adj.燃烧着的，火红的；暴躁的；激烈的 | |
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102
dilated
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| adj.加宽的，扩大的v.（使某物）扩大，膨胀，张大( dilate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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103
unravelling
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| 解开，拆散，散开( unravel的现在分词 )； 阐明； 澄清； 弄清楚 | |
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104
fawn
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| n.未满周岁的小鹿；v.巴结，奉承 | |
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