“Arrived at sundown.”
“Where from?”
“Salt Lake.”
“Are you in the service?”
“No. Trade.”
“Pirate trade, I reckon.”
“What do you know about it?”
“I saw you when you came. I recognized your master. He is a bad sort. Trap-robber, horse-thief, squaw-man, renegado—Hank Butters—I know him very well. Stole you, didn’t he?”
“Well, it amounted to that.”
“I thought so. Where is his pard?”
“He stopped at White Cloud’s camp.”
“He is another of the same stripe, is Blake Haskins.” (Aside.) They are laying for Buffalo1 Bill again, I guess. (Aloud.) “What is your name?”
“Which one?”
“Have you got more than one?”
“I get a new one every time I’m stolen. I used to have an honest name, but that was early; I’ve forgotten it. Since then I’ve had thirteen aliases2.”
“A false name.”
“Alias. It’s a fine large word, and is in my line; it has quite a learned and cerebrospinal incandescent4 sound. Are you educated?”
“Well, no, I can’t claim it. I can take down bars, I can distinguish oats from shoe-pegs, I can blaspheme a saddle-boil with the college-bred, and I know a few other things—not many; I have had no chance, I have always had to work; besides, I am of low birth and no family. You speak my dialect like a native, but you are not a Mexican Plug, you are a gentleman, I can see that; and educated, of course.”
“Yes, I am of old family, and not illiterate5. I am a fossil.”
“A which?”
“Fossil. The first horses were fossils. They date back two million years.”
“Gr-eat sand and sage-brush! do you mean it?”
“Yes, it is true. The bones of my ancestors are held in reverence6 and worship, even by men. They do not leave them exposed to the weather when they find them, but carry them three thousand miles and enshrine them in their temples of learning, and worship them.”
“It is wonderful! I knew you must be a person of distinction, by your fine presence and courtly address, and by the fact that you are not subjected to the indignity7 of hobbles, like myself and the rest. Would you tell me your name?”
“You have probably heard of it—Soldier Boy.”
“Even so.”
“It takes my breath! Little did I dream that ever I should stand face to face with the possessor of that great name. Buffalo Bill’s horse! Known from the Canadian border to the deserts of Arizona, and from the eastern marches of the Great Plains to the foot-hills of the Sierra! Truly this is a memorable9 day. You still serve the celebrated10 Chief of Scouts11?”
“I am still his property, but he has lent me, for a time, to the most noble, the most gracious, the most excellent, her Excellency Catherine, Corporal-General Seventh Cavalry12 and Flag-Lieutenant Ninth Dragoons, U.S.A.,—on whom be peace!”
“Amen. Did you say her Excellency?”
“The same. A Spanish lady, sweet blossom of a ducal house. And truly a wonder; knowing everything, capable of everything; speaking all the languages, master of all sciences, a mind without horizons, a heart of gold, the glory of her race! On whom be peace!”
“Amen. It is marvellous!”
“Verily. I knew many things, she has taught me others. I am educated. I will tell you about her.”
“I will tell a plain tale, calmly, without excitement, without eloquence14. When she had been here four or five weeks she was already erudite in military things, and they made her an officer—a double officer. She rode the drill every day, like any soldier; and she could take the bugle15 and direct the evolutions herself. Then, on a day, there was a grand race, for prizes—none to enter but the children. Seventeen children entered, and she was the youngest. Three girls, fourteen boys—good riders all. It was a steeplechase, with four hurdles17, all pretty high. The first prize was a most cunning half-grown silver bugle, and mighty18 pretty, with red silk cord and tassels19. Buffalo Bill was very anxious; for he had taught her to ride, and he did most dearly want her to win that race, for the glory of it. So he wanted her to ride me, but she wouldn’t; and she reproached him, and said it was unfair and unright, and taking advantage; for what horse in this post or any other could stand a chance against me? and she was very severe with him, and said, ‘You ought to be ashamed—you are proposing to me conduct unbecoming an officer and a gentleman.’ So he just tossed her up in the air about thirty feet and caught her as she came down, and said he was ashamed; and put up his handkerchief and pretended to cry, which nearly broke her heart, and she petted him, and begged him to forgive her, and said she would do anything in the world he could ask but that; but he said he ought to go hang himself, and he must, if he could get a rope; it was nothing but right he should, for he never, never could forgive himself; and then she began to cry, and they both sobbed20, the way you could hear him a mile, and she clinging around his neck and pleading, till at last he was comforted a little, and gave his solemn promise he wouldn’t hang himself till after the race; and wouldn’t do it at all if she won it, which made her happy, and she said she would win it or die in the saddle; so then everything was pleasant again and both of them content. He can’t help playing jokes on her, he is so fond of her and she is so innocent and unsuspecting; and when she finds it out she cuffs21 him and is in a fury, but presently forgives him because it’s him; and maybe the very next day she’s caught with another joke; you see she can’t learn any better, because she hasn’t any deceit in her, and that kind aren’t ever expecting it in another person.
“It was a grand race. The whole post was there, and there was such another whooping22 and shouting when the seventeen kids came flying down the turf and sailing over the hurdles—oh, beautiful to see! Half-way down, it was kind of neck and neck, and anybody’s race and nobody’s. Then, what should happen but a cow steps out and puts her head down to munch24 grass, with her broadside to the battalion25, and they a-coming like the wind; they split apart to flank her, but she?—why, she drove the spurs home and soared over that cow like a bird! and on she went, and cleared the last hurdle16 solitary26 and alone, the army letting loose the grand yell, and she skipped from the horse the same as if he had been standing27 still, and made her bow, and everybody crowded around to congratulate, and they gave her the bugle, and she put it to her lips and blew ‘boots and saddles’ to see how it would go, and BB was as proud as you can’t think! And he said, ‘Take Soldier Boy, and don’t pass him back till I ask for him!’ and I can tell you he wouldn’t have said that to any other person on this planet. That was two months and more ago, and nobody has been on my back since but the Corporal-General Seventh Cavalry and Flag-Lieutenant of the Ninth Dragoons, U.S.A.,—on whom be peace!”
“Amen. I listen—tell me more.”
“She set to work and organized the Sixteen, and called it the First Battalion Rocky Mountain Rangers28, U.S.A., and she wanted to be bugler29, but they elected her Lieutenant-General and Bugler. So she ranks her uncle the commandant, who is only a Brigadier. And doesn’t she train those little people! Ask the Indians, ask the traders, ask the soldiers; they’ll tell you. She has been at it from the first day. Every morning they go clattering30 down into the plain, and there she sits on my back with her bugle at her mouth and sounds the orders and puts them through the evolutions for an hour or more; and it is too beautiful for anything to see those ponies31 dissolve from one formation into another, and waltz about, and break, and scatter32, and form again, always moving, always graceful33, now trotting34, now galloping35, and so on, sometimes near by, sometimes in the distance, all just like a state ball, you know, and sometimes she can’t hold herself any longer, but sounds the ‘charge,’ and turns me loose! and you can take my word for it, if the battalion hasn’t too much of a start we catch up and go over the breastworks with the front line.
“Yes, they are soldiers, those little people; and healthy, too, not ailing23 any more, the way they used to be sometimes. It’s because of her drill. She’s got a fort, now—Fort Fanny Marsh36. Major-General Tommy Drake planned it out, and the Seventh and Dragoons built it. Tommy is the Colonel’s son, and is fifteen and the oldest in the Battalion; Fanny Marsh is Brigadier-General, and is next oldest—over thirteen. She is daughter of Captain Marsh, Company B, Seventh Cavalry. Lieutenant-General Alison is the youngest by considerable; I think she is about nine and a half or three-quarters. Her military rig, as Lieutenant-General, isn’t for business, it’s for dress parade, because the ladies made it. They say they got it out of the Middle Ages—out of a book—and it is all red and blue and white silks and satins and velvets; tights, trunks, sword, doublet with slashed37 sleeves, short cape38, cap with just one feather in it; I’ve heard them name these things; they got them out of the book; she’s dressed like a page, of old times, they say. It’s the daintiest outfit39 that ever was—you will say so, when you see it. She’s lovely in it—oh, just a dream! In some ways she is just her age, but in others she’s as old as her uncle, I think. She is very learned. She teaches her uncle his book. I have seen her sitting by with the book and reciting to him what is in it, so that he can learn to do it himself.
“Every Saturday she hires little Injuns to garrison40 her fort; then she lays siege to it, and makes military approaches by make-believe trenches41 in make-believe night, and finally at make-believe dawn she draws her sword and sounds the assault and takes it by storm. It is for practice. And she has invented a bugle-call all by herself, out of her own head, and it’s a stirring one, and the prettiest in the service. It’s to call me—it’s never used for anything else. She taught it to me, and told me what it says: ‘It is I, Soldier—come!’ and when those thrilling notes come floating down the distance I hear them without fail, even if I am two miles away; and then—oh, then you should see my heels get down to business!
“And she has taught me how to say good-morning and good-night to her, which is by lifting my right hoof42 for her to shake; and also how to say good-bye; I do that with my left foot—but only for practice, because there hasn’t been any but make-believe good-byeing yet, and I hope there won’t ever be. It would make me cry if I ever had to put up my left foot in earnest. She has taught me how to salute43, and I can do it as well as a soldier. I bow my head low, and lay my right hoof against my cheek. She taught me that because I got into disgrace once, through ignorance. I am privileged, because I am known to be honorable and trustworthy, and because I have a distinguished44 record in the service; so they don’t hobble me nor tie me to stakes or shut me tight in stables, but let me wander around to suit myself. Well, trooping the colors is a very solemn ceremony, and everybody must stand uncovered when the flag goes by, the commandant and all; and once I was there, and ignorantly walked across right in front of the band, which was an awful disgrace: Ah, the Lieutenant-General was so ashamed, and so distressed45 that I should have done such a thing before all the world, that she couldn’t keep the tears back; and then she taught me the salute, so that if I ever did any other unmilitary act through ignorance I could do my salute and she believed everybody would think it was apology enough and would not press the matter. It is very nice and distinguished; no other horse can do it; often the men salute me, and I return it. I am privileged to be present when the Rocky Mountain Rangers troop the colors and I stand solemn, like the children, and I salute when the flag goes by. Of course when she goes to her fort her sentries46 sing out ‘Turn out the guard!’ and then . . . do you catch that refreshing47 early-morning whiff from the mountain-pines and the wild flowers? The night is far spent; we’ll hear the bugles48 before long. Dorcas, the black woman, is very good and nice; she takes care of the Lieutenant-General, and is Brigadier-General Alison’s mother, which makes her mother-in-law to the Lieutenant-General. That is what Shekels says. At least it is what I think he says, though I never can understand him quite clearly. He—”
“Who is Shekels?”
“The Seventh Cavalry dog. I mean, if he is a dog. His father was a coyote and his mother was a wild-cat. It doesn’t really make a dog out of him, does it?”
“Not a real dog, I should think. Only a kind of a general dog, at most, I reckon. Though this is a matter of ichthyology, I suppose; and if it is, it is out of my depth, and so my opinion is not valuable, and I don’t claim much consideration for it.”
“It isn’t ichthyology; it is dogmatics, which is still more difficult and tangled49 up. Dogmatics always are.”
“Dogmatics is quite beyond me, quite; so I am not competing. But on general principles it is my opinion that a colt out of a coyote and a wild-cat is no square dog, but doubtful. That is my hand, and I stand pat.”
“Well, it is as far as I can go myself, and be fair and conscientious50. I have always regarded him as a doubtful dog, and so has Potter. Potter is the great Dane. Potter says he is no dog, and not even poultry51—though I do not go quite so far as that.
“And I wouldn’t, myself. Poultry is one of those things which no person can get to the bottom of, there is so much of it and such variety. It is just wings, and wings, and wings, till you are weary: turkeys, and geese, and bats, and butterflies, and angels, and grasshoppers52, and flying-fish, and—well, there is really no end to the tribe; it gives me the heaves just to think of it. But this one hasn’t any wings, has he?”
“No.”
“Well, then, in my belief he is more likely to be dog than poultry. I have not heard of poultry that hadn’t wings. Wings is the sign of poultry; it is what you tell poultry by. Look at the mosquito.”
“What do you reckon he is, then? He must be something.”
“Who told you that?”
“Nobody told me, but I overheard it.”
“Where did you overhear it?”
“Years ago. I was with the Philadelphia Institute expedition in the Bad Lands under Professor Cope, hunting mastodon bones, and I overheard him say, his own self, that any plantigrade circumflex vertebrate bacterium54 that hadn’t wings and was uncertain was a reptile. Well, then, has this dog any wings? No. Is he a plantigrade circumflex vertebrate bacterium? Maybe so, maybe not; but without ever having seen him, and judging only by his illegal and spectacular parentage, I will bet the odds55 of a bale of hay to a bran mash56 that he looks it. Finally, is he uncertain? That is the point—is he uncertain? I will leave it to you if you have ever heard of a more uncertainer dog than what this one is?”
“No, I never have.”
“Well, then, he’s a reptile. That’s settled.”
“Why, look here, whatsyourname—”
“Last alias, Mongrel.”
“A good one, too. I was going to say, you are better educated than you have been pretending to be. I like cultured society, and I shall cultivate your acquaintance. Now as to Shekels, whenever you want to know about any private thing that is going on at this post or in White Cloud’s camp or Thunder-Bird’s, he can tell you; and if you make friends with him he’ll be glad to, for he is a born gossip, and picks up all the tittle-tattle. Being the whole Seventh Cavalry’s reptile, he doesn’t belong to anybody in particular, and hasn’t any military duties; so he comes and goes as he pleases, and is popular with all the house cats and other authentic57 sources of private information. He understands all the languages, and talks them all, too. With an accent like gritting58 your teeth, it is true, and with a grammar that is no improvement on blasphemy—still, with practice you get at the meat of what he says, and it serves. . . Hark! That’s the reveille. . . .
“Faint and far, but isn’t it clear, isn’t it sweet? There’s no music like the bugle to stir the blood, in the still solemnity of the morning twilight59, with the dim plain stretching away to nothing and the spectral60 mountains slumbering61 against the sky. You’ll hear another note in a minute—faint and far and clear, like the other one, and sweeter still, you’ll notice. Wait . . . listen. There it goes! It says, ‘It is I, Soldier—come!’ . . .
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收听单词发音
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1
buffalo
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| n.(北美)野牛；(亚洲)水牛 | |
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aliases
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| n.别名，化名( alias的名词复数 ) | |
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alias
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| n.化名；别名；adv.又名 | |
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incandescent
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| adj.遇热发光的， 白炽的，感情强烈的 | |
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illiterate
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| adj.文盲的；无知的；n.文盲 | |
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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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7
indignity
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| n.侮辱，伤害尊严，轻蔑 | |
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8
renowned
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| adj.著名的，有名望的，声誉鹊起的 | |
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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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celebrated
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| adj.有名的，声誉卓著的 | |
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scouts
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| 侦察员[机，舰]( scout的名词复数 )； 童子军； 搜索； 童子军成员 | |
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cavalry
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| n.骑兵；轻装甲部队 | |
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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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eloquence
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| n.雄辩；口才，修辞 | |
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bugle
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| n.军号，号角，喇叭；v.吹号，吹号召集 | |
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hurdle
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| n.跳栏，栏架；障碍，困难；vi.进行跨栏赛 | |
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hurdles
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| n.障碍( hurdle的名词复数 )；跳栏；（供人或马跳跃的）栏架；跨栏赛 | |
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mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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tassels
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| n.穗( tassel的名词复数 )；流苏状物；（植物的）穗；玉蜀黍的穗状雄花v.抽穗， （玉米）长穗须( tassel的第三人称单数 )；使抽穗， （为了使作物茁壮生长）摘去穗状雄花；用流苏装饰 | |
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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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cuffs
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| n.袖口( cuff的名词复数 )v.掌打，拳打( cuff的第三人称单数 ) | |
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whooping
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| 发嗬嗬声的，发咳声的 | |
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ailing
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| v.生病 | |
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munch
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| v.用力嚼，大声咀嚼 | |
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battalion
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| n.营；部队；大队(的人) | |
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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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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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rangers
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| 护林者( ranger的名词复数 )； 突击队员 | |
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bugler
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| 喇叭手； 号兵； 吹鼓手； 司号员 | |
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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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ponies
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| 矮种马，小型马( pony的名词复数 )； ￡25 25 英镑 | |
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scatter
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| vt.撒，驱散，散开；散布/播；vi.分散，消散 | |
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graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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trotting
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| 小跑，急走( trot的现在分词 )； 匆匆忙忙地走 | |
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galloping
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| adj. 飞驰的, 急性的 动词gallop的现在分词形式 | |
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marsh
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| n.沼泽，湿地 | |
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slashed
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| v.挥砍( slash的过去式和过去分词 )；鞭打；割破；削减 | |
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cape
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| n.海角，岬；披肩，短披风 | |
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outfit
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| n.（为特殊用途的）全套装备，全套服装 | |
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garrison
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| n.卫戍部队；驻地，卫戍区；vt.派(兵)驻防 | |
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trenches
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| 深沟，地沟( trench的名词复数 )； 战壕 | |
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hoof
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| n.(马，牛等的)蹄 | |
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salute
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| vi.行礼，致意，问候，放礼炮；vt.向…致意，迎接，赞扬；n.招呼，敬礼，礼炮 | |
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distinguished
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| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
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distressed
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| 痛苦的 | |
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sentries
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| 哨兵，步兵( sentry的名词复数 ) | |
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refreshing
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| adj.使精神振作的，使人清爽的，使人喜欢的 | |
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48
bugles
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| 妙脆角，一种类似薯片但做成尖角或喇叭状的零食； 号角( bugle的名词复数 )； 喇叭； 匍匐筋骨草； （装饰女服用的）柱状玻璃（或塑料）小珠 | |
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49
tangled
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| adj. 纠缠的，紊乱的 动词tangle的过去式和过去分词 | |
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50
conscientious
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| adj.审慎正直的，认真的，本着良心的 | |
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51
poultry
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| n.家禽，禽肉 | |
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52
grasshoppers
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| n.蚱蜢( grasshopper的名词复数 )；蝗虫；蚂蚱；（孩子）矮小的 | |
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reptile
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| n.爬行动物；两栖动物 | |
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54
bacterium
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| n.(pl.)bacteria 细菌 | |
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55
odds
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| n.让步，机率，可能性，比率；胜败优劣之别 | |
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56
mash
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| n.麦芽浆，糊状物，土豆泥；v.把…捣成糊状，挑逗，调情 | |
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57
authentic
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| a.真的，真正的；可靠的，可信的，有根据的 | |
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58
gritting
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| v.以沙砾覆盖（某物），撒沙砾于( grit的现在分词 )；咬紧牙关 | |
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59
twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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60
spectral
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| adj.幽灵的，鬼魂的 | |
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61
slumbering
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| 微睡，睡眠（slumber的现在分词形式） | |
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62
streak
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| n.条理，斑纹，倾向，少许，痕迹；v.加条纹，变成条纹，奔驰，快速移动 | |
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