Tommy Remington, meanwhile, trudged1 on through the gathering2 darkness, his heart big with purpose. Heretofore the mastery of the art of reading had appeared to him, when he considered the subject at all, as a thing requiring such tremendous effort as few people were capable of. Certainly he, who knew little beyond the rudiments3 of mining and the management of a mine mule4, could never hope to solve the mystery of those rows of queer-looking characters he had seen sometimes in almanacs and old newspapers, and more recently on the circus poster he carried in his pocket. But now a new and charming vista6 was of a sudden opened to him. The teacher had assured him that it was quite easy to learn to read,—that any one could do so who really tried,—and he rammed7 his fists deep down in his pockets and drew a long breath at the sheer wonder of the thing.
It is difficult, perhaps, for a boy brought up, as most boys are, within sound of a school bell, where school-going begins inevitably8 in the earliest years, where every one he knows can read and write as a matter of course, and where books and papers form part of the possessions of every household, to understand the awe9 with which Tommy Remington thought over the task he was about to undertake. Such a boy may have seen occasionally the queer picture-writing in front of a Chinese laundry or on the outside of packages of tea, and wondered what such funny marks could possibly mean. To Tommy English appeared no less queer and difficult than Chinese, and he would have attacked the latter with equal confidence—or, more correctly, with an equal lack of confidence.
But he had little time to ponder over all this, for a few minutes’ walk brought him to the dingy10 cabin on the hillside which—with a similar dwelling11 back in the Pennsylvania coal-fields—was the only home he had ever known. His father had thrown away his youth in the Pennsylvania mines while the industry was yet almost in its infancy12 and the miners’ wages were twice or thrice those that could be earned by any other kind of manual labor13—the high pay counter-balancing, in a way, the great danger which in those days was a part of coal-mining. Mr. Remington had, by good fortune, escaped the dangers, and had lived to see the importation of foreign laborers14 to the Pennsylvania fields,—Huns, Slavs, Poles, and what not,—who prospered15 on wages on which an Anglo-Saxon would starve. Besides, the dangers of the work had been very materially reduced, and to the mine-owner it seemed only right that the wages should be reduced with them, especially since competition had become so close that profits were cut in half, or sometimes even wiped out altogether.
It was just at the time when matters were at their worst that the great West Virginia coal-fields were discovered and a railroad built through the mountains. Good wages were offered experienced miners, and Mr. Remington was one of the first to move his family into the new region—into the very cabin, indeed, where he still lived, and which at that time had been just completed. The unusual thickness of the seams of coal, their accessibility, and the ease with which the coal could be got to market, together with the purity and value of the coal itself, all combined to render it possible for the miner to make good wages, and for a time Remington prospered—as much, that is, as a coal-miner can ever prosper16, which means merely that he can provide his family with shelter from the cold, with enough to eat, and with clothes to wear, and at the same time keep out of debt. But the discovery of new fields and the ever-growing competition for the market had gradually tended to decrease wages until they were again almost at the point where one man could not support a family, and his boys—mere children sometimes—went into the mines with him to assist in the struggle for existence—the younger ones as drivers of the mine mules17, which hauled the coal to “daylight,” the older ones as laborers in the chambers18 where their fathers blasted it down from the great seams.
Tommy mounted the steps of the cabin to the little porch in front, and paused for a backward glance down into the valley. The mountains had deepened from green to purple, and the eddying19 clouds of mist showed sharply against this dark background. The river splashed merrily along, a ribbon of silver at the bottom of the valley. The kindly20 night had hidden all the marks of man’s handiwork along its banks, and the scene was wholly beautiful. Yet it was not at mountains or river that the boy looked. He had seen them every day for years, and they had ceased to be a novelty long since. He looked instead at a little white frame building just discernible through the gloom, and he thought with a strange stirring of his blood that it was perhaps in that building he was to learn to read and write. A shrill21 voice from the house startled him from his reverie.
“Tommy,” it called, “ain’t you ever comin’ in, or air you goin’ t’ stand there till jedgment? Come right in here an’ wash up an’ git ready fer supper. Where’s your pa?”
“Yes’m,” said Tommy, and hurried obediently into the house. “Pa went over t’ th’ store t’ git some bacon. He said he’d be ’long in a minute.”
“A minute,” she repeated. “I guess so. Half an hour, most likely, ef he gits t’ talkin’ with thet shif’less gang thet’s allers loafin’ round there.”
Tommy deemed it best to make no reply to this remark, and in silence he took off his cap and jumper and threw them on a chair. Even in the semi-darkness it was easy to see that the house was not an inviting23 place. Perched high up on the side of the hill, it had been built by contract as cheaply as might be, and was one of a long row of houses of identical design which the Great Eastern Coal Company had constructed as homes for its employees. Three rooms were all that were needed by any family, said the company—a kitchen and two bedrooms. More than that would be a luxury for which the miners could have no possible use and which would only tend to spoil them. Perhaps the houses were clean when they were built, but the grime of the coal-fields had long since conquered them and reduced them to a uniform dinginess24. Mrs. Remington had battled valiantly25 against the invader26 at first; but it was a losing fight, and she had finally given it up in despair. The dust was pervading27, omnipresent, over everything. It was in the water, in the beds, in the food. It soaked clothing through and through. They lived in it, slept in it, ate it, drank it. Small wonder that, as the years passed, Mrs. Remington’s face lost whatever of youth and freshness it had ever had, and that her voice grew harsh and her temper most uncertain.
“Now hurry up, Tommy,” she repeated. “Wash your hands an’ face, an’ then fetch some water from th’ spring. There ain’t a drop in the bucket.”
“All right, ma,” answered the boy, cheerfully. And he soon had his face and hands covered with lather28. It was no slight task to cleanse29 the dust from the skin, for it seemed to creep into every crevice30 and to cling there with such tenacious31 grip that it became almost a part of the skin itself. But at last the task was accomplished32, as well as soap and water could accomplish it, and he picked up the bucket and started for the spring.
The air was fresh and sweet, and he breathed it in with a relish33 somewhat unusual as he climbed the steep path up the mountain-side. He placed the bucket under the little stream of pure, limpid34 water that gushed35 from beneath a great ledge36 of rock, summer and winter, fed from some exhaustless reservoir within the mountain, and sat down to wait for it to fill. A cluster of lights along the river showed where the town stood, and he heard an engine puffing37 heavily up the grade, taking another train of coal to the great Eastern market. Presently its headlight flashed into view, and he watched it until it plunged38 into the tunnel that intersected a spur of the mountain around which there had been no way found. What a place it must be,—the East,—and how many people must live there to use so much coal! The bucket was full, and he picked it up and started back toward the house. As he neared it, he heard his mother clattering39 the supper-things about with quite unnecessary violence.
“Your pa ain’t come home yit,” she cried, as Tommy entered. “He don’t need t’ think we’ll wait fer him all night. I’ll send Johnny after him.” She went to the front door. “John-ny—o-o-o-oh, Johnny!” she called down the hillside.
“Yes’m,” came back a faint answer.
“Come here right away,” she called again; and in a moment a little figure toddled40 up the steps. It was a boy of six—Tommy’s younger brother. All the others—brothers and sisters alike—lay buried in a row back of the little church. They had found the battle of life too hard amid such surroundings, and had been soon defeated.
“Where you been?” she asked, as he panted up, breathless.
“Me an’ Freddy Roberts found a snake,” he began, “down there under some stones. He tried t’ git away, but we got him. I’m awful hungry,” he added, as an afterthought.
But his mother was not listening to him. She had caught the sound of approaching footsteps down the path.
“Take him in an’ wash his hands an’ face, Tommy,” she said grimly. “Look at them clothes! I hear your pa comin’, so hurry up.”
Johnny submitted gracefully41 to a scrubbing with soap and water administered by his brother’s vigorous arm, and emerged an almost cherubic child so far as hands and face were concerned, but no amount of brushing could render his clothes presentable. His father came in a moment later, a little, dried-up man, whose spirit had been crushed and broken by a lifetime of labor in the mines—as what man’s would not? He grunted42 in reply to his wife’s shrill greeting, laid a piece of bacon on the table, and calmly proceeded with his ablutions, quite oblivious43 of the storm that circled about his head. Supper was soon on the table, a lamp, whose lighting44 had been deferred45 to the last moment for the sake of economy, was placed in the middle of the board, and Mrs. Remington, finding that her remarks upon his delay met with no response, sat down behind the steaming coffee-pot to show that she would wait no longer.
Hard labor and mountain air are rare appetizers46, and for a time they ate in silence. At last Johnny, having taken the edge off his hunger, began to relate the story of his thrilling encounter with the snake, and even his mother was betrayed into a smile as she looked at his dancing eyes. Tommy, who had been vainly striving to muster47 up courage to broach48 the subject nearest his heart, saw his father’s face soften49, and judged it a good time to begin.
“Pa,” he remarked, “there’s a circus comin’, ain’t they?”
“Yes,” said his father; “I see some bills down at the mine.”
“When’s it comin’?”
Mrs. Remington snorted to show her disapproval50 of the proposed extravagance.
“No, it ain’t that,” answered Tommy, in a choked voice. “I don’t keer a cent about th’ circus. Pa, I want t’ go t’ school.”
Mr. Remington sat suddenly upright, as though something had stung him on the back, and rubbed his head in a bewildered way. His brother stared at Tommy, awe-struck.
“Go t’ school!” repeated his father, at last, when he had conquered his amazement51 sufficiently52 to speak. “What on airth fer?”
“T’ learn how t’ read,” said Tommy, gathering courage from his father’s dismay. “Pa, I want t’ know how t’ read an’ write. Why, I can’t even read th’ show-bill!”
“Well,” said his father, “neither kin I.”
Tommy stopped a moment to consider his words, for he felt he was on delicate ground. In all his fourteen years of life, he had never been so desperate as at this moment.
But his mother came unexpectedly to his rescue.
“Well, an’ if you can’t read, Silas,” she said sharply, “is thet any reason th’ boy shouldn’t git a chance? Maybe he won’t hev t’ work in th’ mines ef he gits a little book-l’arnin’. Heaven knows, it’s a hard life.”
“Yes, it’s a hard life,” assented53 the miner, absently. “It’s a hard life. Nobody knows thet better ’n me.”
“I stopped at th’ school-house t’ git th’ teacher t’ read th’ bill t’ me,” he said, “an’ she told me thet anybody kin learn t’ read—thet ’tain’t hard at all. It’s a free school, an’ it won’t cost nothin’ but fer my books. I’ve got purty near three dollars in my bank. Thet ort t’ pay fer ’em.”
“But who’ll help me at th’ mine?” asked his father. “I’ve got t’ hev a helper, an’ I can’t pay one out of th’ starvation wages th’ company gives us. What’ll I do?”
“I tell you, pa,” said Tommy, eagerly. “I kin help you in th’ afternoons, an’ all th’ time in th’ summer when they ain’t no school. I’ll jest go in th’ mornin’s, an’ you kin keep on blastin’ till I git there t’ help y’ load. I know th’ boss won’t keer. Kin I go?”
“Of course you kin go,” broke in his mother, sharply. “You’ve said yourself, Silas, many a time,” she added to her husband, “thet th’ minin’ business’s gittin’ worse an’ worse, an’ thet a man can’t make a livin’ at it any more. Th’ boy ort t’ hev a chance.”
Tommy shot another grateful glance at his mother, and then looked back at his father. He knew that from him must come the final word.
“You kin try it,” said his father, at last. “I reckon you’ll soon git tired of it, anyway.”
But Tommy was out of his chair before he could say more, and threw his arms about his neck.
“I’m so glad!” he cried. “You’ll see how I’ll work in th’ afternoons. We’ll git out more coal ’n ever!”
“Well, well,” protested Silas, awkwardly returning his caress57, “we’ll see. I don’t know but what your ma’s right. You’ve been a good boy, Tommy, an’ deserve a chance.”
And mother and father alike looked after the boy with unaccustomed tenderness as he ran out of the house and up the mountain-side to think it all over. Up there, with only the stars to see, Tommy flung himself on the ground and sobbed58 aloud in sheer gladness of heart.
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1
trudged
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| vt.& vi.跋涉，吃力地走（trudge的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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2
gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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rudiments
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| n.基础知识，入门 | |
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mule
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| n.骡子，杂种，执拗的人 | |
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kin
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| n.家族，亲属，血缘关系；adj.亲属关系的，同类的 | |
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vista
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| n.远景，深景，展望，回想 | |
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rammed
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| v.夯实（土等）( ram的过去式和过去分词 )；猛撞；猛压；反复灌输 | |
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inevitably
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| adv.不可避免地；必然发生地 | |
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awe
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| n.敬畏，惊惧；vt.使敬畏，使惊惧 | |
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10
dingy
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| adj.昏暗的，肮脏的 | |
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dwelling
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| n.住宅，住所，寓所 | |
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infancy
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| n.婴儿期；幼年期；初期 | |
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13
labor
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| n.劳动，努力，工作，劳工；分娩；vi.劳动，努力，苦干；vt.详细分析；麻烦 | |
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laborers
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| n.体力劳动者，工人( laborer的名词复数 )；（熟练工人的）辅助工 | |
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15
prospered
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| 成功，兴旺( prosper的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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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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mules
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| 骡( mule的名词复数 )； 拖鞋； 顽固的人； 越境运毒者 | |
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chambers
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| n.房间( chamber的名词复数 )；（议会的）议院；卧室；会议厅 | |
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19
eddying
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| 涡流，涡流的形成 | |
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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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21
shrill
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| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
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sniffed
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| v.以鼻吸气，嗅，闻( sniff的过去式和过去分词 )；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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23
inviting
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| adj.诱人的，引人注目的 | |
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dinginess
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| n.暗淡，肮脏 | |
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valiantly
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| adv.勇敢地，英勇地；雄赳赳 | |
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invader
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| n.侵略者，侵犯者，入侵者 | |
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pervading
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| v.遍及，弥漫( pervade的现在分词 ) | |
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28
lather
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| n.(肥皂水的)泡沫，激动 | |
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29
cleanse
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| vt.使清洁，使纯洁，清洗 | |
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30
crevice
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| n.(岩石、墙等)裂缝；缺口 | |
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31
tenacious
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| adj.顽强的，固执的，记忆力强的，粘的 | |
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32
accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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33
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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limpid
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| adj.清澈的，透明的 | |
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gushed
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| v.喷，涌( gush的过去式和过去分词 )；滔滔不绝地说话 | |
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ledge
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| n.壁架，架状突出物；岩架，岩礁 | |
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puffing
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| v.使喷出( puff的现在分词 )；喷着汽（或烟）移动；吹嘘；吹捧 | |
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38
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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39
clattering
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| 发出咔哒声（clatter的现在分词形式） | |
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40
toddled
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| v.（幼儿等）东倒西歪地走( toddle的过去式和过去分词 )；蹒跚行走；溜达；散步 | |
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41
gracefully
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| ad.大大方方地；优美地 | |
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42
grunted
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| （猪等）作呼噜声( grunt的过去式和过去分词 )； （指人）发出类似的哼声； 咕哝着说 | |
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43
oblivious
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| adj.易忘的，遗忘的，忘却的，健忘的 | |
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44
lighting
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| n.照明，光线的明暗，舞台灯光 | |
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45
deferred
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| adj.延期的，缓召的v.拖延，延缓，推迟( defer的过去式和过去分词 )；服从某人的意愿，遵从 | |
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46
appetizers
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| n.开胃品( appetizer的名词复数 )；促进食欲的活动；刺激欲望的东西；吊胃口的东西 | |
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47
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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48
broach
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| v.开瓶，提出(题目) | |
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49
soften
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| v.(使)变柔软；(使)变柔和 | |
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50
disapproval
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| n.反对，不赞成 | |
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51
amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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52
sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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53
assented
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| 同意，赞成( assent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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54
gratitude
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| adj.感激，感谢 | |
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55
rosy
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| adj.美好的，乐观的，玫瑰色的 | |
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56
anticipation
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| n.预期，预料，期望 | |
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57
caress
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| vt./n.爱抚，抚摸 | |
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58
sobbed
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| 哭泣，啜泣( sob的过去式和过去分词 )； 哭诉，呜咽地说 | |
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