Koppowski and his three friends climbed through the window of the shack1 on the top of the bank and were swallowed in the forest. And around them other shadows moved silently in the same direction.
They were on their way to the big meeting of the season. Except for a mere2 dozen of practised ubiquity the camp was empty; for that night, which was to seal the fate of the trestle--perhaps--Koppy was less concerned than usual that the three up on the grade should be deceived.
For days he had been polishing up the details of his plan. And of the two methods open to him for passing those details on to his followers3, like a true leader he chose personal delivery. Eloquence4 was a never-failing inspiration of his in the face of crowds, and hysteria, his best ally, worked only at its highest pitch in the mob. Besides, there was a gratifying pomp in the meeting; the thrill he so readily imparted to his audience returned to him double-fold and opened the gates to further honours in the inner councils of the I.W.W.
Without underestimating the gravity of failure before such a gathering5 as he would face that night, self-confidence never deserted6 him; never yet had it let him down. As a born gambler he had no compunctions at staking everything on one throw.
Directly away from the grade he led deep into the woods, and all about them was movement, silent, individual, wrapped in the promise of the meeting. Presently Koppy made a peremptory7 motion of his hand.
"Wait!" He left them there, moving ponderously9 forward to the heart of a small clearing, where he paced up and down, chin in hand. The three followers watched from a distance.
"Nap--or was it Wellington--at Waterloo or somewhere!" jeered10 Werner in a low voice. "The mutt thinks the whole world is watching . . . and I ain't sure it ain't."
Koppy waved his hand, and they rejoined him.
Patches of darkness already filled the forest, but a late sun filtered through the tree tops in the thinner spaces and wove a pattern of colour on the brown leaves and dead green moss11, the slender spruce needles and straight-standing trunks. Nature was in a gentle glow; the pure clear air of falling evening draped the earth in sweetness. Yet through it wound long lines of ghoulish men who felt it not, held to fiendish things by mistaken ambitions, by an unjustified bitterness that fed on its own helplessness. For, after all, the varying moods of nature are but constituents12 of a formula of which each man provides for himself the other half--else would the Eskimo be a paragon13, the hunter a saint.
Koppy had explained it to Tressa in fiery14 words; the Independent Workers of the World had found tilled soil in the breasts of these unthinking men. By feeding their smouldering bitterness against conditions due largely to themselves it had won their unreasoning fidelity15; like dogs they crept to heel. Here at last was a medium in which to express their wrath16. That it could profit them nothing mattered not. All they read was that, under-dogs as they were doomed17 to be, they might make their masters suffer.
"Cheerful sport, this. A real hi-larious way to end a dull day."
Morani's lip curled.
"It's all right for you, Chico," muttered Werner. "All you got to do to get your blood running fresh is to slip that stiletto into somebody's ribs19. They don't expect any better of a Dago. Me? They'd fasten a rope under my ears and wish me pleasant voyage."
The Italian expectorated noisily.
"I suppose," continued Werner, "you might's well do that as spit macaroni talk at me. You get me roused and I'll tear off chunks20 of German and throw them--"
At the place of meeting not a man was in sight; a great silence seemed to have stifled22 life itself. But as Koppy raised himself on a slight eminence23 in the centre of the clearing and made a gesture with his expressive24 hands, throngs25 of his followers crowded about him with no sound but shuffling26 feet.
As Koppy looked about on their massed faces a disturbing memory of those strange moments with Tressa Torrance almost unnerved him. He understood these men; he knew the forces that had brought them down to railway work. And the flick27 of a still faintly breathing conscience made him pale. The daily sight of Tressa Torrance and her simple acceptance of him as a fellow-creature had roused within him thoughts he imagined he had long since stifled. There were times when he contemplated28 the possibility of carrying her away and leaving all else behind. Never before in America had a decent woman looked at him in such a kindly29 way. The many women he had known he had been willing to pay for, as was expected of him; here was one he could not buy, yet she was almost within reach for nothing.
Sometimes of late his mind had roved beyond a crude camp of logs, with filthy30 bunks31 in tiers, with filthy straw on which to lie. Carpeted rooms, with pictures on the walls, and shiny chairs and tables; smart clothes and clean hands; evenings of mental peace in a home of his own. And a woman to manage it and him. That was the bewildering part of it--he wanted a woman to order him about, some one gentle and sweet, to blot32 from his warped33 mind the hideous34 nightmare of strife35 and scheming amidst which he seemed always to have moved. He longed to have to change his clothes after the day's work, to wash and brush himself, to smile and converse36 in his best of English. He owed nothing to the I.W.W. that he had not repaid a hundredfold. He was a bit weary of his own passions and the direction of others.
But from beneath his shaggy brows, as he stood towering above his followers in the semi-darkness of the clearing, he read expectation--nay, even demand--in every upturned face. And the old surge of pride, the sordid37 memories that had kept him to his meanest tasks and sometimes convinced him of a divine mission, bent38 him back to his big plans. In long silence he returned their gaze, moving his head sharply from side to side to fix every eye. None knew better than he the value of silences, of the ponderous8 manner. Every art of the leader of mobs was his.
As if delving39 to their very hearts he stared into every face. And they recognised his leadership by stifled sighs and sudden breaths. Dull to reason, as to pain and pleasure, their nerves were denied the protective covering of sanity40 that comes with education. What they did not know was less than what they imagined. In such an atmosphere respect became reverence41, irritation42 fury, fear panic, a sense of injustice43 justification44 for any crime. Before the piercing gaze of their leader their lips opened, their bloodshot eyes shifted, and breath came uncertainly. It was a form of mesmerism.
And when at last he burst out in an impassioned jargon45 that did duty as common language, they rose to him hysterically46.
Truth to tell, he had called the meeting with no intention of spurring to immediate47 action. So much hung on the final decision that was to culminate48 their year's work that Koppy hesitated to give the order. The meeting had been conceived as nothing more than a preliminary test of their loyalty49 and determination; perhaps he might raise their ardour to the point where it would be safe to let them know the scheme in general. The details would reach them later through trusted mouthpieces. But most of all he wanted to feel their hands on his.
But when, in the mellow50 light of the setting sun, he read their mad recklessness he reacted to it. Carried from his feet, he spoke51 fiercely; passionately52, as one inspired. The passive, underground resistance of the past few weeks swept swiftly in a few sentences to open rebellion. Hesitation53 looked cowardly then, caution tawdry, waiting an insult to their dignity.
Werner alone did not follow him. When five hundred fists thrust as many weapons into the air and cried for action, Werner felt the urge of action of his own. Slowly he slunk to the outskirts54 of the mob.
"This," he said to himself, "is where Hugo Werner takes to the tall timbers. I don't hypnotise worth a cent. All Koppy's eagle eye does to me is warn me I'm not bullet-proof. Me for the safe spots; they can get as maudlin55 as they like. I got a hunch56 this is no place for Hugo Werner."
Behind him the low murmur57 of excitement grew to hysteria. They demanded to do something, to destroy and smash and rend58. Another two minutes and nothing could hold them back. To and fro swayed five hundred hot bodies, back and forward shook five hundred threatening hands.
Koppy knew that he was master of their very souls, that there before him five hundred men awaited his direct orders without question. Thrills tingled59 scalp. With fists uplifted he shrieked60 at them:
"Now, now is the time! We are five hundred; they are two. They are ours. These oppressors, who have for years ground our faces to the dust, are trembling before us. Let us strike--strike! We rush, five hundred of us; we smash and wreck61. Then we are masters, not slaves. The trestle must go--now!"
"Me, too," murmured Werner from the shadows. "Damn glad I got a start. Wonder how far it is to my next meal."
"Come closer, men, closer!" Koppy was holding out his arms to them. "Let me feel your strong hands before we strike. It is almost time. It is dark. From the crawling shadows five hundred--"
He had overdone62 it. Five hundred pairs of eyes tore themselves from their leader's face and shifted fearfully to the lurking63, crawling shadows that closed them in.
And at the instant a dismal64 howl struck through the night, unplacable, all-pervading, unearthly. At the top of its most hideous note it crashed to silence.
Five hundred pairs of eyes sought each other with the blankness of terror-numbed minds. Five hundred bodies trembled. Transfixed, they waited.
It came again, louder, crushing menace in its tone. Two piercing whistles cut it short, and some huge, unearthly creature crashed out from the darkness toward the place where they stood. A roar of cannon65 seemed to tear their ear-drums--another--and another--everywhere about them. With one mind five hundred imaginative workmen dropped their weapons from nerveless hands and fled, bumping, tumbling, fighting each other. A voiceless flow of chaotic66 clamour marked their course toward the camp.
Koppy, teeth gnashing, threw up his hands and slunk into the darkness.
And from the shadows moved one solitary67 Indian and his squaw, one inoffensive little broncho, one great mongrel Russian wolf hound.
"Phew!" breathed the Indian, as he snapped his rifle shut and reached up to fondle the horse's ears.
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1
shack
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| adj.简陋的小屋，窝棚 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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followers
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| 追随者( follower的名词复数 )； 用户； 契据的附面； 从动件 | |
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eloquence
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| n.雄辩；口才，修辞 | |
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gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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7
peremptory
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| adj.紧急的，专横的，断然的 | |
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8
ponderous
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| adj.沉重的，笨重的，(文章)冗长的 | |
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ponderously
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jeered
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| v.嘲笑( jeer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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moss
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| n.苔，藓，地衣 | |
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constituents
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| n.选民( constituent的名词复数 )；成分；构成部分；要素 | |
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paragon
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| n.模范，典型 | |
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fiery
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| adj.燃烧着的，火红的；暴躁的；激烈的 | |
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15
fidelity
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| n.忠诚，忠实；精确 | |
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16
wrath
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| n.愤怒，愤慨，暴怒 | |
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17
doomed
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| 命定的 | |
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18
grumbled
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| 抱怨( grumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 发牢骚； 咕哝； 发哼声 | |
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19
ribs
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| n.肋骨( rib的名词复数 )；（船或屋顶等的）肋拱；肋骨状的东西；（织物的）凸条花纹 | |
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chunks
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| 厚厚的一块( chunk的名词复数 )； （某物）相当大的数量或部分 | |
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21
plodded
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| v.沉重缓慢地走（路）( plod的过去式和过去分词 )；努力从事；沉闷地苦干；缓慢进行（尤指艰难枯燥的工作） | |
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stifled
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| （使）窒息， （使）窒闷( stifle的过去式和过去分词 )； 镇压，遏制； 堵 | |
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23
eminence
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| n.卓越，显赫；高地，高处；名家 | |
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expressive
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| adj.表现的，表达…的，富于表情的 | |
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25
throngs
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| n.人群( throng的名词复数 )v.成群，挤满( throng的第三人称单数 ) | |
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26
shuffling
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| adj. 慢慢移动的, 滑移的 动词shuffle的现在分词形式 | |
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27
flick
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| n.快速的轻打，轻打声，弹开；v.轻弹，轻轻拂去，忽然摇动 | |
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28
contemplated
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| adj. 预期的 动词contemplate的过去分词形式 | |
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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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filthy
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| adj.卑劣的；恶劣的，肮脏的 | |
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bunks
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| n.（车、船等倚壁而设的）铺位( bunk的名词复数 )；空话，废话v.（车、船等倚壁而设的）铺位( bunk的第三人称单数 )；空话，废话 | |
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32
blot
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| vt.弄脏（用吸墨纸）吸干；n.污点，污渍 | |
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33
warped
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| adj.反常的；乖戾的；（变）弯曲的；变形的v.弄弯，变歪( warp的过去式和过去分词 )；使（行为等）不合情理，使乖戾， | |
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hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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strife
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| n.争吵，冲突，倾轧，竞争 | |
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converse
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| vi.谈话，谈天，闲聊；adv.相反的，相反 | |
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sordid
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| adj.肮脏的，不干净的，卑鄙的，暗淡的 | |
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38
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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39
delving
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| v.深入探究，钻研( delve的现在分词 ) | |
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40
sanity
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| n.心智健全，神智正常，判断正确 | |
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41
reverence
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| n.敬畏，尊敬，尊严；Reverence:对某些基督教神职人员的尊称；v.尊敬，敬畏，崇敬 | |
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42
irritation
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| n.激怒，恼怒，生气 | |
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43
injustice
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| n.非正义，不公正，不公平，侵犯（别人的）权利 | |
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44
justification
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| n.正当的理由；辩解的理由 | |
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45
jargon
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| n.术语，行话 | |
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46
hysterically
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| ad. 歇斯底里地 | |
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47
immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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48
culminate
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| v.到绝顶，达于极点，达到高潮 | |
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49
loyalty
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| n.忠诚，忠心 | |
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50
mellow
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| adj.柔和的；熟透的；v.变柔和；(使)成熟 | |
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51
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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52
passionately
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| ad.热烈地，激烈地 | |
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53
hesitation
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| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
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54
outskirts
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| n.郊外，郊区 | |
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55
maudlin
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| adj.感情脆弱的，爱哭的 | |
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56
hunch
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| n.预感，直觉 | |
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57
murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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58
rend
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| vt.把…撕开，割裂；把…揪下来，强行夺取 | |
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59
tingled
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| v.有刺痛感( tingle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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60
shrieked
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| v.尖叫( shriek的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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61
wreck
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| n.失事，遇难；沉船；vt.(船等)失事，遇难 | |
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62
overdone
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| v.做得过分( overdo的过去分词 )；太夸张；把…煮得太久；（工作等）过度 | |
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63
lurking
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| 潜在 | |
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64
dismal
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| adj.阴沉的，凄凉的，令人忧郁的，差劲的 | |
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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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66
chaotic
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| adj.混沌的，一片混乱的，一团糟的 | |
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solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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