SPRING came early, but none too early for the majority of Beaufort people. In particular, none too early for Ned, whose ankle was proving a check on his farther winter sports; and none too early for Tom, to whom Christmas had brought a gun which he had hardly been able to use even on rabbits; and none too early for Bob, who, as has been said, was not a cold-weather dog.
With the advent1 of the south winds and the steady dripping thaw2, Ned’s ankle and Tom’s cough—keepsakes from that memorable3 Newton trip—rapidly disappeared; and the nearer ventured the ducks, the stronger felt the two boys. Together—Tom no longer Ned’s squire4, but now, by virtue5 of that Christmas present, become his brother-at-arms—they haunted the levee, watching for the flight to set in and the ice to go out.
Bob accompanied them. But he was not especially interested in ducks. Dread6 of gun forbade him to hunt them, alive; and instinct forbade him to gnaw7 the bones of them, dead. Summer really was Bob’s only unclouded season, for then he could share in all Ned’s excursions. Still, even a dog cannot go through life without trials.
All through the spring vacation that ice which had made such good skating on the Mississippi hung and hung, regardless of the fact that its mission had been fulfilled, and that it ought to leave the field to the hunters. Meanwhile the wild fowl8 had been making use of the Missouri waterway; and when, at last, the blockade in the Mississippi was lifted, and in the shape of enormous floes of slush swept down the channel, mashing9 against the piers10 of the Beaufort bridge and piling up on the shores, the relief was too late.
Most of the ducks had passed by, on another route, and Ned and Tom had killed never a one.
Tom was disappointed beyond measure. His new gun yearned12 for its first duck, and but illy submitted to the superior blood-record of Ned’s gun. Probably this is why, in its mistaken zeal13, it brought to bag what it did.
The duck crop being a failure, the boys had to content themselves with the snipe crop. After the ducks, save now and then a wood-duck or a blue-winged teal which had decided14 to stay all summer, were beyond reach of even a thirteen-inch cannon15, not to speak of a twelve gauge16 single-barrel, jack17 snipe and plover18 still lingered in the marshes19 and along the edges of the streams.
It was the second Saturday in April, and Ned and Tom were among the sloughs20 across the river, raking the country for whatever might be so unlucky as to offer itself as an acceptable target. The withdrawal22 of the ice from the Mississippi had given release to that in the sloughs, and everything was springlike and green and watery23.
Now it was afternoon. As to what the boys had thus far secured, the less said, the better. Of course, one cannot have good luck on every trip. But there was a chance, yet, to round out the day well, had not Tom’s gun, impatient and unruly, sailed in without waiting, and on its own hook.
The slough21 was on the boys’ right. They were walking single file—Ned carelessly a few paces ahead, or Tom carelessly a few paces behind, just as critics choose—on the alert for game. It might be a pair of plover winging overhead, or a jack snipe whisking from under their feet, or, possibly, a belated duck squawking from its covert24, or—something else.
“Boom!” And Ned was on his knees, and, astonished, was trying not to fall farther.
It had happened so very suddenly. The first thing that he knew, his ears had been deafened25 by a tremendous crash, and at the same instant he had been struck a violent blow on the back, and thrown forward. The next thing that he knew, he was tottering26 on his knees, and Tom was bending over him, wailing27:
“I’ve killed him, I’ve killed him! Oh, dear, what shall I do!”
“I know you didn’t mean to, Tom,” comforted Ned, still rather hazy28 as to just what had taken place.
“Are you dying, Ned? Don’t die! Oh, don’t die!” pleaded Tom.
Ned examined himself, inwardly, a moment, to determine what his exact state might be. He could place no pain; but this was what seemed awful: that he might be dreadfully wounded somewhere, and yet not know it!
“Where did it hit me, Tom?” he asked, faintly, and not daring to stir.
“I shot your shoulder all to pieces!” cried Tom, wildly. “And my gun wasn’t even cocked!”
Ned fearfully looked over at his left shoulder. He beheld29 his coat at that spot in tatters, and his whole left sleeve torn so that it hung in only threads.
With such havoc30 made, surely there ought to be pain; but on the contrary the sole sensation was a curious numbness32 in his left side and extending to his left elbow.
He wondered if it could be true that he was about to die. He found himself not afraid, although it was hard to die away off there, in the open country, beside a slough. He was sorry for himself, and for his father and mother, and for Tom. What would Bob think? What would the boys and girls say? Poor little Zu-zu would cry and cry, and keep his duck wings forever.
Ned cautiously tried, and found that he could swing his arm and wiggle his fingers. But it was as though he was experimenting with the arm of somebody else.
Both were now becoming somewhat more hopeful. Of the two, Tom, as was natural, was the more excited and frightened, because upon his head rested the accident, and because it was he who could view the full extent of the damage.
Ned could only imagine; Tom could both see and imagine.
“I don’t believe I’m shot so bad, after all,” mused34 Ned, easing himself by settling back upon his heels. “It doesn’t hurt a bit.”
“But you are! I’m afraid you are!” moaned Tom, pitifully. “And it’s all my fault, though I don’t see how it ever happened.”
From the appearance of that back it seemed to Tom that the whole load must have entered Ned’s shoulder.
“Not a soul,” said Tom, with a quaver of despair in his voice. “Shall I fix you as good as I can, and then run like lightning and get a wagon36, or something?”
“I bet I could walk as far as the road,” asserted Ned, pondering. “That would be a better place to leave me, for people are more apt to come along there, you know.”
“But I hate to have you walk, Ned,” said Tom. “It might not be right for you.”
Nevertheless he took Ned’s hand and helped him get on his feet—which was done with no apparent harm.
“I don’t need to be held up,” objected Ned, as Tom started to put an arm around his waist, and lead him off. “You carry the guns. You weren’t going to forget them, were you?”
Tom raised Ned’s gun from the spot where it had dropped when Ned himself had dropped, and then gave his own, lying where he had flung it, a kick.
“Shucks, you will, too,” scolded Ned. “Now you pick it up.”
So Tom roughly picked it up. Together the two boys—the injured and the sound—slowly walked across the field, with Tom watching Ned askance, as if expecting him to keel over at any instant.
Ned, however, while keeping himself well in hand, and on the lookout38 for any new and warning symptoms, did not feel the least discomfort39 from the motion.
To reach the road they had to cross a railway track; and as they neared it Tom halted and cried, joyfully40:
“Listen!”
“A train—it’s a train!” cried Tom. “You stay here and I’ll go ahead and stop it.”
“Maybe it won’t stop,” said Ned.
“Yes, it will. I’ll make it,” assured Tom, running forward. “They wouldn’t go on and leave you here to die!”
Uncertain as to how he would do it, but determined43 to stop the train at all hazard, Tom flew for the track.
Around the long curve swept the Pacific Coast Limited, due in Beaufort at 3:21. The engineer, peering ahead, was startled to see, planted between the rails in the rapidly nearing distance, a boy with a gun in each hand, threatening the advance of the train.
The engineer opened the whistle valve, and the engine sounded its angry, impatient command: “Out of the way!”
Tom saw the white flare44 of steam, and a second later heard the quick shriek45 of warning. But he never budged46. He only waved his arms and guns.
He tried to make the engineer know; now he flourished the guns, and now he patted his left shoulder, and now he pointed11 off toward Ned, and wept aloud in his fear that he was not being understood.
The engineer and the fireman noted47 the gestures, and saw that the boy stubbornly stood and budged not.
It seemed to be a question of either slowing down or running over him.
To Tom it was a question of either saving Ned or being run over.
The engineer’s hand tightened48 on the air-brake lever. The other hand grudgingly49 jerked the throttle50.
Tom saw the engine still closing in upon him at relentless51 speed—and he only gestured the more.
Then, on a sudden, with grinding of wheels, and a disgusted wheeze52, the train stopped; the pilot of the engine just touched his boot-legs.
“A boy’s been shot! He’s got to be taken to town right away,” explained Tom, hastening around beside the cab, and looking up at the grimy face far above him.
He clutched the cab steps imploringly54, resolved that the train should not start without him.
The fireman had jumped to the cab door and was listening.
“Well, where is he?” demanded the engineer.
“There——” began Tom, but he was interrupted by a brakeman, who, followed by the conductor, came running up from the foremost coach.
“What’s the matter here?” asked the brakeman.
“A boy’s shot, and you’ve got to take him to Beaufort,” announced Tom, again.
“Where is he?” snapped the conductor, now taking hold of affairs.
“He’s coming. All right, Ned,” encouraged Tom, beckoning55 to Ned, who was walking as fast as he could, through the field, toward them.
“That him?” demanded the conductor, shortly.
“Yes, sir,” replied Tom. “He’s——”
“Go ahead,” ordered the conductor, turning on his heel, to the engineer. “Young man, this is a dangerous business you’re in—stopping limited trains just for the fun of it. I’ve a mind to take you to town and turn you over to the officers.”
He glared at Tom, and the brakeman glared at Tom, and the fireman and engineer glared at Tom, and all the faces stuck out of the windows of the line of coaches glared at Tom.
The engineer reached for the throttle, and Tom reached for the conductor’s coat-tail.
“Oh, but it’s true, it’s true!” cried Tom. “He is shot. I shot him myself. You look at his shoulder and you’ll see. Please wait! Please wait, just a second. If it isn’t so, you can do anything to me you like. See—how his left sleeve is all torn.”
“Have him hurry up, then,” said the conductor, moved by Tom’s appeal, and able to see for himself that evidently something was wrong with Ned.
Tom dropped his guns, and jumping down the slight embankment sped to Ned, to help him pass a barbed wire fence, and climb the gravelly slope.
“By Jinks—the boy is hurt!” observed the brakeman.
The conductor tapped with his foot impatiently.
“At any rate, he’s making us lose lots of time,” he remarked.
“All aboard!” he called, as Tom and Ned toiled56 up to the track. And he added, kindly57, as the sight of[211] Ned’s pale face and tattered58 back impressed him: “Get in the first coach, lad. Help him in, Jack.”
With a boost from the brakeman Ned safely landed upon the vestibuled platform. At the same instant, as though he had touched a concealed59 lever, the train started, so eager was it to be again under way.
Ned, with Tom steadying him, entered the coach, and sat meekly60 in the seat next to the door. The conductor came to interview them, and curious passengers crowded around; the news that “a boy has been shot” had spread adown the long line of aisles61.
Tom answered a multitude of questions; and Ned, too, had his share. He told everybody, in reply to their queries62, that he felt all right, but in truth his shoulder was beginning to throb63 and sting.
Presently a physician came through, and after a keen look into Ned’s face, and a light fingering of the arm and shoulder, pronounced no bones broken; and being told that the victim was going only to Beaufort gave it as his opinion that the wound should wait, rather than be examined on the train.
Over the bridge rumbled64 the train; and in a moment Ned and Tom, two forlorn figures, descended65 at the depot66.
Their car had stopped beyond the depot crowd, and nobody noticed them emerge from the vestibule, upon the bricks below. Tom, who had halted a limited train, was equal to this next crisis.
The hacks67 and ’buses were at the other end of the depot, but across the wide brick walk he saw Luke Denee’s white horse and veteran express and transfer wagon, with Luke himself standing68 by it, waiting for whatever hauling the train might have brought him.
“Oh, Mr. Denee! Mr. Denee!” called Tom, running forward. “Won’t you carry Ned Miller69 up town—he’s been shot!”
“What’s that?” inquired Luke, bustling70 forward. “Ned Miller? Where is he—why, bless my soul!” catching71 sight of Ned himself. “Who shot him?”
“I did. My gun went off by accident,” explained Tom, wearily; he was growing tired of confessing it so often. “He ought to be got to a doctor right away.”
“You bet I’ll take him, and we’ll get him there in a jiffy,” assured Luke. “Golly the grog and the great horn spoon, Ned boy—did Tom take you for a goose, or a snipe, or what?”
“A what, I guess,” replied Ned, as Luke helped him into the rear of the wagon, and settled him upon a trunk. The train was pulling out, and from every window the passengers’ faces stared out upon them.
Barely waiting for Tom, with the two guns, to leap into the wagon, Luke plumped upon the seat and lifting the lines clucked vigorously to his white horse. The report of Ned’s plight72 was now being repeated from mouth to mouth through the depot and vicinity, and as the wagon rolled away and turned down the street it was followed by a murmur73 and many eyes.
With Ned sitting upon the trunk, and Tom standing beside him to steady him, and Luke laying the whip on his astonished steed, the wagon rattled74 down the thoroughfare. Scenting75 something wrong, the people whom it passed gazed after it in wonder.
“Where to? Which doctor?” asked Luke, over his shoulder.
Ned nodded.
Dr. Mathews’ office was at his house, and luckily they caught him in. Ned was wearing a hunting coat, and an ordinary coat under it. The doctor put him in a chair, and not saying “by your leave” swiftly and skilfully77 cut away the layers of cloth, and ripping up the shirt underneath78 laid bare the shoulder.
The doctor was delicately inserting a slender steel probe into one of the holes. Ned, hunched81 over, holding his breath and clenching82 his teeth, feared a sorry time.
“Does it hurt you much?” asked the doctor, gently exploring with the probe.
“N-n-no, it doesn’t,” replied Ned, relieved. He could not feel the probe at all.
“Numb, eh?” remarked the doctor. “Well, that’s good.”
“Is it very bad, doctor?” asked Ned.
“Not a bit of it!” assured the doctor, cheerfully. “Just a flesh wound, and in a week or so you’ll be as well as ever! You’ve been struck by only—let’s see—ten, eleven, thirteen—by thirteen shot, and they’re on top of the shoulder-blade, every one of them, so far as I can tell.”
“Don’t cry, Tom, old fellow,” begged Ned. “Everything’s all right, now.”
“Yes, indeed,” assured the doctor. “But you had a very, very narrow escape. The load must have passed between your shoulder and neck—and if it had swerved84 a fraction of an inch to the right, or so as to enter lower, you’d have bled to death long before this.”
“Oh, Ned!” exclaimed Tom, aghast at what might have been.
Here Mr. Miller, frightened as he never had been frightened before, rushed in. Bad news travels fast.
“Ned!” he cried, at the sight of his son under the probe.
“Now that will do, Mr. Miller,” cautioned the doctor, smiling to quiet his fear. “Ned is right side up, and almost ready for another hunt. He’s pretty tough, you must understand.”
“Nothing serious?” questioned Mr. Miller.
“Not in the slightest,” asserted the doctor, with a belittling86 shake of his head, and withdrawing the probe from the last hole. “I’ll simply dress this place with antiseptic, and you can take him home in my carriage. Just have him keep quiet for a few days, and I think that he’ll soon be as fit as a fiddle87.”
So Ned was carried home in Doctor Mathews’ carriage, his father driving. Tom was left to bring the guns, and answer queries along the way.
One would suppose that Mrs. Miller, by this time, would have been so used to having Ned return after having figured in some hair-breadth escape, that she would take no especial notice of such a little thing as thirteen shot in his left shoulder.
But when she witnessed him gingerly clamber down upon the horse-block, his arm in a sling88, she acted as though this was his first, instead of maybe his hundredth, accident.
Yet the thirteen shot in his shoulder did not concern her so much as did the rest of the load, that had passed so near, just missing his neck and his lungs.
Bob followed Ned in from the gate, and sniffing89 the antiseptic, and wondering why his master did not respond, as usual, to his energetic greetings, remained upon the front porch, to consider the new smell, and ponder over what was up.
Ned’s wound did not trouble him much. He got his hurts easily, as a rule, and just as easily he was rid of them. Young blood is good blood for healing purposes, as well as for purposes in general.
Tom was constant in his attentions, as were Zu-zu and Mrs. Pearce. They sent or brought fruit and books and everything that might benefit or amuse.
Neither of the boys could understand why Tom’s gun had exploded, when it wasn’t cocked. However, upon examining the cartridge90 it was found that the cap bore a faint dot, where the plunger of the gun had rested upon it. The cap had been too sensitive, and a light jar had sent it off.
“Still, I’d no business to have it pointed toward you,” asserted Tom, when Ned tried to excuse him.
“Tom says he guesses you’ll never want to go hunting with him again,” said Zu-zu, one day, on paying a visit to Ned. “He says he’s never going again, either.”
“That’s all nonsense,” vowed91 Ned. “You tell him so, Zu-zu. He’s the safest fellow in the world to go with, now, he’ll be so mighty92 careful. My folks think that way, too.”
When Zu-zu went home she carried in a little pill box six shot that the doctor had cut out from just beneath the skin of Ned’s back, where they had come to the surface; and right and left she proudly showed them among her friends.
Only one thing remains93 to note. Ten days after the shooting, Mrs. Miller finally succeeded in tracing to its source an unsavory odor that had been bothering her, about the house, for some time. She searched Ned’s ill-fated hunting coat, and with a cry of disgust bore it, at arm’s length, into the room where Ned, with the contented94 Bob beside him, was sitting.
“What do you think I found?” she asked, thrusting in her hand, and drawing out, between her finger tips, a mass of feathers.
“It’s a plover!” fairly shouted Ned, with a howl of laughter. “That’s what I shot the day I was hurt. I’d forgotten all about it. Ugh! Take it away!”
“And Tom was so jealous that he shot you!” retorted Mrs. Miller, hurrying out. “Well, his bag was the biggest, I think.”
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1
advent
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| n.(重要事件等的)到来，来临 | |
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thaw
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| v.（使）融化，（使）变得友善；n.融化，缓和 | |
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memorable
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| adj.值得回忆的，难忘的，特别的，显著的 | |
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squire
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| n.护卫, 侍从, 乡绅 | |
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virtue
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| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
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dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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gnaw
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| v.不断地啃、咬；使苦恼，折磨 | |
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fowl
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| n.家禽，鸡，禽肉 | |
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mashing
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| 捣碎 | |
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piers
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| n.水上平台( pier的名词复数 )；（常设有娱乐场所的）突堤；柱子；墙墩 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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yearned
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| 渴望，切盼，向往( yearn的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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zeal
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| n.热心，热情，热忱 | |
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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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cannon
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| n.大炮，火炮；飞机上的机关炮 | |
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gauge
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| v.精确计量；估计；n.标准度量；计量器 | |
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jack
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| n.插座，千斤顶，男人；v.抬起，提醒，扛举；n.（Jake）杰克 | |
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plover
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| n.珩，珩科鸟，千鸟 | |
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marshes
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| n.沼泽，湿地( marsh的名词复数 ) | |
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sloughs
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| n.沼泽( slough的名词复数 )；苦难的深渊；难以改变的不良心情；斯劳(Slough)v.使蜕下或脱落( slough的第三人称单数 )；舍弃；除掉；摒弃 | |
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slough
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| v.蜕皮，脱落，抛弃 | |
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withdrawal
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| n.取回，提款；撤退，撤军；收回，撤销 | |
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watery
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| adj.有水的，水汪汪的；湿的，湿润的 | |
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covert
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| adj.隐藏的；暗地里的 | |
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deafened
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| 使聋( deafen的过去式和过去分词 )； 使隔音 | |
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tottering
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| adj.蹒跚的，动摇的v.走得或动得不稳( totter的现在分词 )；踉跄；蹒跚；摇摇欲坠 | |
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wailing
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| v.哭叫，哀号( wail的现在分词 )；沱 | |
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hazy
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beheld
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| v.看，注视( behold的过去式和过去分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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havoc
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| n.大破坏，浩劫，大混乱，大杂乱 | |
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numb
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| adj.麻木的，失去感觉的；v.使麻木 | |
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numbness
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implored
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mused
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queried
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| v.质疑，对…表示疑问( query的过去式和过去分词 )；询问 | |
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wagon
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| n.四轮马车，手推车，面包车；无盖运货列车 | |
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rust
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| n.锈；v.生锈；(脑子)衰退 | |
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lookout
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| n.注意，前途，瞭望台 | |
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discomfort
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| n.不舒服，不安，难过，困难，不方便 | |
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joyfully
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| adv. 喜悦地, 高兴地 | |
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clattering
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| 发出咔哒声（clatter的现在分词形式） | |
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rumble
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| n.隆隆声；吵嚷；v.隆隆响；低沉地说 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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flare
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| v.闪耀，闪烁；n.潮红；突发 | |
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shriek
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| v./n.尖叫，叫喊 | |
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budged
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| v.（使）稍微移动( budge的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）改变主意，（使）让步 | |
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noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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tightened
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| 收紧( tighten的过去式和过去分词 )； （使）变紧； （使）绷紧； 加紧 | |
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grudgingly
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throttle
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| n.节流阀，节气阀，喉咙；v.扼喉咙，使窒息，压 | |
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relentless
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| adj.残酷的，不留情的，无怜悯心的 | |
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wheeze
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| n.喘息声，气喘声；v.喘息着说 | |
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savagely
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| adv. 野蛮地，残酷地 | |
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imploringly
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| adv. 恳求地, 哀求地 | |
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beckoning
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| adj.引诱人的，令人心动的v.（用头或手的动作）示意，召唤( beckon的现在分词 ) | |
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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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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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tattered
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| adj.破旧的，衣衫破的 | |
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concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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meekly
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| adv.温顺地，逆来顺受地 | |
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aisles
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| n. (席位间的)通道, 侧廊 | |
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queries
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| n.问题( query的名词复数 )；疑问；询问；问号v.质疑，对…表示疑问( query的第三人称单数 )；询问 | |
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throb
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| v.震颤，颤动；(急速强烈地)跳动，搏动 | |
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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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descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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depot
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| n.仓库，储藏处；公共汽车站；火车站 | |
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hacks
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| 黑客 | |
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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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miller
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| n.磨坊主 | |
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bustling
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| adj.喧闹的 | |
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catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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plight
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| n.困境，境况，誓约，艰难；vt.宣誓，保证，约定 | |
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murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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rattled
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| 慌乱的，恼火的 | |
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scenting
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| vt.闻到（scent的现在分词形式） | |
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millers
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| n.（尤指面粉厂的）厂主( miller的名词复数 )；磨房主；碾磨工；铣工 | |
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skilfully
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| adv. (美skillfully)熟练地 | |
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underneath
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| adj.在...下面，在...底下；adv.在下面 | |
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smears
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| 污迹( smear的名词复数 )； 污斑； （显微镜的）涂片； 诽谤 | |
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groaned
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| v.呻吟( groan的过去式和过去分词 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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hunched
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| （常指因寒冷、生病或愁苦）耸肩弓身的，伏首前倾的 | |
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clenching
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| v.紧握，抓紧，咬紧( clench的现在分词 ) | |
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collapsed
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| adj.倒塌的 | |
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swerved
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| v.（使）改变方向，改变目的( swerve的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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swerve
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| v.突然转向，背离；n．转向，弯曲，背离 | |
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belittling
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| 使显得微小，轻视，贬低( belittle的现在分词 ) | |
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fiddle
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| n.小提琴；vi.拉提琴；不停拨弄，乱动 | |
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sling
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| vt.扔；悬挂；n.挂带；吊索，吊兜；弹弓 | |
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sniffing
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| n.探查法v.以鼻吸气，嗅，闻( sniff的现在分词 )；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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cartridge
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| n.弹壳，弹药筒；(装磁带等的)盒子 | |
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vowed
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| 起誓，发誓（vow的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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93
remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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contented
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| adj.满意的，安心的，知足的 | |
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