Will Barrie went whistling down the lane of the Locksley farm, took a short cut over a field of clover aftermath and through a sloping orchard1 where the trees were laden2 with apples, and emerged into the farmhouse3 yard where Curtis Locksley was sitting on a pile of logs, idly whittling5 at a stick.
"You look as if you had a corner in time, Curt4," said Will. "I call that luck, for I want you to go chestnutting up to Grier's Hill with me. I met old Tom Grier on the road yesterday, and he told me I might go any day. Nice old man, Tom Grier."
"Good!" said Curtis heartily6, as he sprang up. "If I haven't exactly a corner in time, I have a day off, at least. Uncle doesn't need me today. Wait till I whistle for Don. May as well take him with us."
Curtis whistled accordingly, but Don, his handsome Newfoundland dog, did not appear. After calling and whistling about the yard and barns for several minutes, Curtis turned away disappointedly.
"He can't be anywhere around. It is very strange. Don never used to go away from home without me, but lately he has been missing several times, and twice last week he wasn't here in the morning and didn't turn up until midday."
"I'd keep him shut up until I broke him of the habit of playing truant9, if I were you," said Will, as they turned into the lane.
"Don hates to be shut up, howls all the time so mournfully that I can't stand it," responded Curtis.
"Well," said Will, hesitatingly, "maybe that would be better after all than letting him stray away with other dogs who may teach him bad habits. I saw Don myself one evening last week ambling10 down the Harbour road with that big brown dog of Sam Ventnor's. Ventnor's dog is beginning to have a bad reputation, you know. There have been several sheep worried lately, and—"
"Don wouldn't touch a sheep!" interrupted Curtis hotly.
"I daresay not, not yet. But Ventnor's dog is under suspicion, and if Don runs with him he'll learn the trick sure as preaching. The farmers are growling11 a good bit already, and if they hear of Don and Ventnor's dog going about in company, they'll put it on them both. Better keep Don shut up awhile, let him howl as he likes."
"I believe I will," said Curtis soberly. "I don't want Don to fall under suspicion of sheep-worrying, though I'm sure he would never do it. Anyhow, I don't want him to run with Ventnor's dog. I'll chain him up in the barn when I go home. I couldn't stand it if anything happened to Don. After you, he's the only chum I've got—and he's a good one."
Will agreed. He was almost as fond of Don as Curtis was. But he did not feel so sure that the dog would not worry a sheep. Will knew that Don was suspected already, but he did not like to tell Curtis so. And of course there was as yet no positive proof—merely mutterings and suggestions among the Bayside farmers who had lost sheep and were anxious to locate their slayer12. There were many other dogs in Bayside and the surrounding districts who were just as likely to be the guilty animals, and Will hoped that if Don were shut up for a time, suspicion might be averted13 from him, especially if the worryings still went on.
He had felt a little doubtful about hinting the truth to Curtis, who was a high-spirited lad and always resented any slur14 cast upon Don much more bitterly than if it were meant for himself. But he knew that Curtis would take it better from him than from the other Bayside boys, one or the other of whom would be sure soon to cast something up to Curtis about his dog. Will felt decidedly relieved to find that Curtis took his advice in the spirit in which it was offered.
"Who have lost sheep lately?" queried15 Curtis, as they left the main road and struck into a wood path through the ranks of beeches16 on Tom Grier's land.
"Nearly everybody on the Hollow farms," answered Will. "Until last week nobody on the Hill farms had lost any. But Tuesday night old Paul Stockton had six fine sheep killed in his upland pasture behind the fir woods. He is furious about it, I believe, and vows17 he'll find out what dog did it and have him shot."
Curtis looked grave. Paul Stockton's farm was only about a quarter of a mile from the Locksley homestead, and he knew that Paul had an old family grudge18 against his Uncle Arnold, which included his nephew and all belonging to him. Moreover, Curtis remembered with a sinking heart that Wednesday morning had been one of the mornings upon which Don was missing.
"Talking of old Paul," said Will, who thought it advisable to turn the conversation, "reminds me that they are getting anxious at the Harbour about George Finley's schooner20, the Amy Reade. She was due three days ago and there's no sign of her yet. And there have been two bad gales22 since she left Morro. Oscar Stockton is on board of her, you know, and his father is worried about him. There are five other men on her, all from the Harbour, and their folks down there are pretty wild about the schooner."
Nothing more was said about the sheep, and soon, in the pleasures of chestnutting, Curtis forgot his anxiety. Old Tom Grier had called to the boys as they passed his house to come back and have dinner there when the time came. This they did, and it was late in the afternoon when Curtis, with his bag of chestnuts23 over his shoulder, walked into the Locksley yard.
His uncle was standing24 before the open barn doors, talking to an elderly, grizzled man with a thin, shrewd face.
Curtis's heart sank as he recognized old Paul Stockton. What could have brought him over?
"Curtis," called his uncle, "come here."
As Curtis crossed the yard, Don came bounding down the slope from the house to meet him. He put his hand on the dog's big head and the two of them walked slowly to the barn. Old Paul included them both in a vindictive25 scowl26.
"Curtis," said his uncle gravely, "here's a bad business. Mr. Stockton tells me that your dog has been worrying his sheep."
"It's a—" began Curtis angrily. Then he checked himself and went on more calmly.
"That can't be so, Mr. Stockton. My dog would not harm anything."
"He killed or helped to kill six of the finest sheep in my flock!" retorted old Paul.
"What proof have you of it?" demanded Curtis, trying to keep his anger within bounds.
"Abner Peck saw your dog and Ventnor's running together through my sheep pasture at sundown on Tuesday evening," answered old Paul. "Wednesday morning I found this in the corner of the pasture where the sheep were worried. Your uncle admits that it was tied around your dog's neck on Tuesday."
And old Paul held out triumphantly27 a faded red ribbon. Curtis recognized it at a glance. It was the ribbon his little cousin, Lena, had tied around Don's neck Tuesday afternoon. He remembered how they had laughed at the effect of that frivolous28 red collar and bow on Don's massive body.
"I'm sure Don isn't guilty!" he cried passionately29.
Mr. Locksley shook his head.
"I'm afraid he is, Curtis. The case looks very black against him, and sheep-stealing is a serious offence."
"The dog must be shot," said old Paul decidedly. "I leave the matter in your hands, Mr. Locksley. I've got enough proof to convict the dog and, if you don't have him killed, I'll make you pay for the sheep he worried."
As old Paul strode away, Curtis looked beseechingly30 at his uncle.
"Don mustn't be shot, Uncle!" he said desperately31. "I'll chain him up all the time."
"And have him howling night and day as if we had a brood of banshees about the place?" said Mr. Locksley sarcastically32. He was a stern man with little sentiment in his nature and no understanding whatever of Curtis's affection for Don. The Bayside people said that Arnold Locksley had always been very severe with his nephew. "No, no, Curtis, you must look at the matter sensibly. The dog is a nuisance and must be shot. You can't keep him shut up forever, and, if he has once learned the trick of sheep-worrying, he will never forget it. You can get another dog if you must have one. I'll get Charles Pippey to come and shoot Don tomorrow. No sulking now, Curtis. You are too big a boy for that. Tie the dog up for the night and then go and put the calves33 in. There is a storm coming. The wind is blowing hard from the northeast now."
His uncle walked away, leaving the boy white and miserable34 in the yard. He looked at Don, who sat on his haunches and returned his gaze frankly35 and open-heartedly. He did not look like a guilty dog. Could it be possible that he had really worried those sheep?
"I'll never believe it of you, old fellow!" Curtis said, as he led the dog into a corner of the carriage house and tied him up there. Then he flung himself down on a pile of sacks beside him and buried his face in Don's curly black fur. The boy felt sullen36, rebellious37 and wretched.
He lay there until dark, thinking his own bitter thoughts and listening to the rapidly increasing gale21. Finally he got up and flung off after the calves, with Don's melancholy38 howls at finding himself deserted39 ringing in his ears.
He'll be quiet enough tomorrow night, thought Curtis wretchedly, as he went upstairs to bed after housing the calves. For a long while he lay awake, but finally dropped into a heavy slumber40 which lasted until his aunt called him for milking.
The wind was blowing more furiously than ever. Up over the fields came the roar and crash of the surges on the outside shore. The Harbour to the east of Bayside was rough and stormy.
They were just rising from breakfast when Will Barrie burst into the kitchen.
"The Amy Reade is ashore41 on Gleeson's rocks!" he shouted. "Struck there at daylight this morning! Come on, Curt!"
Curtis sprang for his cap, his uncle following suit more deliberately42. As the two boys ran through the yard, Curtis heard Don howling.
"I'll take him with me!" he muttered. "Wait a minute, Will."
The Harbour road was thronged43 with people hurrying to the outside shore, for the news of the Amy Readers disaster had spread rapidly. As the boys, with the rejoicing Don at their heels, pelted44 along, Sam Morrow overtook them in a cart and told them to jump in. Sam had already been down to the shore and had gone back to tell his father. As they jolted45 along, he screamed information at them over the shriek46 of the gale.
"Bad business, this! She's pounding on a reef 'bout7 a quarter of a mile out. They're sure she's going to break up—old tub, you know—leaky—rotten. The sea's tremenjus high, and the surfs going dean over her. There can't be no boat launched for hours yet—they'll all be drowned. Old Paul's down there like a madman—offering everything he's got to the man who'll save Oscar, but it can't be done."
By this time they had reached the shore, which was black with excited people. Out on Gleeson's Reef the ill-fated little schooner was visible amid the flying spray. A grizzled old Harbour fisherman, to whom Sam shouted a question, shook his head.
"No, can't do nothin'! No boat c'd live in that surf f'r a moment. The schooner'll go to pieces mighty47 soon, I'm feared. It's turrible! turrible! to stan' by an' watch yer neighbours drown like this!"
Curtis and Will elbowed their way down to the water's edge. The relatives of the crew were all there in various stages of despair, but old Paul Stockton seemed like a man demented. He ran up and down the beach, crying and praying. His only son was on the Amy Reade, and he could do nothing to save him!
"What are they doing?" asked Will of Martin Clark.
"Trying to get a line ashore by throwing out a small rope with a stick tied to it," answered Martin. "It's young Stockton that's trying now. But it isn't any use. The cross-currents on that reef are too powerful."
"Why, Don will bring that line ashore!" exclaimed Curtis. "Here, Don! Don, I say!"
The dog bounded back along the shore with a quick bark. Curtis grasped him by the collar and pointed8 to the stick which young Stockton had just hurled48 again into the water. Don, with another bark of comprehension, dashed into the sea. The onlookers49, grasping the situation, gave a cheer and then relapsed into silence. Only the shriek of the gale and the crash of the waves could be heard as they watched the magnificent dog swimming out through the breakers, his big black head now rising on the crest50 of a wave and now disappearing in the hollow behind it. When Don finally reached the tossing stick, grasped it in his mouth and turned shoreward, another great shout went up from the beach. A woman behind Curtis, whose husband was on the schooner, dropped on her knees on the pebbles51, sobbing52 and thanking God. Curtis himself felt the stinging tears start to his eyes.
When Don reached the shore he dropped the stick at Curtis's feet and gave himself a tremendous shake. Curtis caught at the stick, while a dozen men and women threw themselves bodily on Don, hugging him and kissing his wet fur like distracted creatures. Old Paul Stockton was among them. Over his shoulder Don's big black head looked up, his eyes asking as plainly as speech what all this fuss was about.
Meanwhile some of the men had already pulled a big hawser53 ashore and made it fast. In half an hour the crew of the Amy Reade were safe on shore, chilled and dripping. Before they were hurried away to warmth and shelter, old Paul Stockton caught Curtis's hand. The tears were running freely down his hard, old face.
"Tell your uncle he is not to lay a finger on that dog!" he said. "He never killed a sheep of mine—he couldn't! And if he did I don't care! He's welcome to kill them all, if nothing but mutton'll serve his turn."
Curtis walked home with a glad heart. Mr. Locksley heard old Paul's message with a smile. He, too, had been touched by Don's splendid feat54.
"Well, Curtis, I'm very glad that it has turned old Paul in his favour. But we must shut Don up for a week or so, no matter how hard he takes it. You can see that for yourself. After all, he might have worried the sheep. And, anyway, he must be broken of his intimacy55 with Ventnor's dog."
Curtis acknowledged the justice of this and poor Don was tied up again. His captivity56 was not long, however, for Ventnor's dog was soon shot. When Don was released, Curtis had an anxious time for a week or two. But no more sheep were worried, and Don's innocence57 was triumphantly established. As for old Paul Stockton, it seemed as if he could not do enough for Curtis and Don. His ancient grudge against the Locksleys was completely forgotten, and from that date he was a firm friend of Curtis. In regard to Don, old Paul would say:
"Why, there never was such a dog before, sir, never! He just talks with his eyes, that dog does. And if you'd just 'a' seen him swimming out to that schooner! Bones? Yes, sir! Every time that dog comes here he's to get the best bones we've got for him—and more'n bones, too. That dog's a hero, sir, that's what he is!"
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收听单词发音
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1
orchard
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| n.果园，果园里的全部果树，(美俚)棒球场 | |
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laden
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| adj.装满了的；充满了的；负了重担的；苦恼的 | |
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farmhouse
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| n.农场住宅（尤指主要住房） | |
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curt
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| adj.简短的，草率的 | |
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whittling
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| v.切，削（木头），使逐渐变小( whittle的现在分词 ) | |
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heartily
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| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
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bout
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| n.侵袭，发作；一次(阵，回)；拳击等比赛 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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truant
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| n.懒惰鬼，旷课者；adj.偷懒的，旷课的，游荡的；v.偷懒，旷课 | |
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ambling
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| v.（马）缓行( amble的现在分词 )；从容地走，漫步 | |
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growling
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| n.吠声, 咆哮声 v.怒吠, 咆哮, 吼 | |
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slayer
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| n. 杀人者，凶手 | |
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averted
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| 防止，避免( avert的过去式和过去分词 )； 转移 | |
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14
slur
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| v.含糊地说；诋毁；连唱；n.诋毁；含糊的发音 | |
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15
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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beeches
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| n.山毛榉( beech的名词复数 )；山毛榉木材 | |
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17
vows
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| 誓言( vow的名词复数 )； 郑重宣布，许愿 | |
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18
grudge
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| n.不满，怨恨，妒嫉；vt.勉强给，不情愿做 | |
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miserably
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| adv.痛苦地；悲惨地；糟糕地；极度地 | |
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schooner
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| n.纵帆船 | |
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gale
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| n.大风，强风，一阵闹声（尤指笑声等） | |
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gales
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| 龙猫 | |
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23
chestnuts
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| n.栗子( chestnut的名词复数 )；栗色；栗树；栗色马 | |
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24
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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vindictive
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| adj.有报仇心的，怀恨的，惩罚的 | |
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scowl
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| vi.(at)生气地皱眉，沉下脸，怒视；n.怒容 | |
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triumphantly
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| ad.得意洋洋地；得胜地；成功地 | |
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frivolous
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| adj.轻薄的；轻率的 | |
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passionately
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| ad.热烈地，激烈地 | |
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beseechingly
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| adv. 恳求地 | |
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desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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sarcastically
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| adv.挖苦地，讽刺地 | |
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calves
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| n.(calf的复数)笨拙的男子，腓；腿肚子( calf的名词复数 )；牛犊；腓；小腿肚v.生小牛( calve的第三人称单数 )；（冰川）崩解；生（小牛等），产（犊）；使（冰川）崩解 | |
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miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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sullen
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| adj.愠怒的，闷闷不乐的，(天气等)阴沉的 | |
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rebellious
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| adj.造反的，反抗的，难控制的 | |
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melancholy
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| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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39
deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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40
slumber
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| n.睡眠，沉睡状态 | |
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ashore
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| adv.在(向)岸上，上岸 | |
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deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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43
thronged
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| v.成群，挤满( throng的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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44
pelted
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| （连续地）投掷( pelt的过去式和过去分词 )； 连续抨击； 攻击； 剥去…的皮 | |
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45
jolted
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| （使）摇动， （使）震惊( jolt的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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46
shriek
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| v./n.尖叫，叫喊 | |
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47
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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48
hurled
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| v.猛投，用力掷( hurl的过去式和过去分词 )；大声叫骂 | |
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49
onlookers
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| n.旁观者，观看者( onlooker的名词复数 ) | |
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50
crest
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| n.顶点；饰章；羽冠；vt.达到顶点；vi.形成浪尖 | |
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51
pebbles
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| [复数]鹅卵石； 沙砾； 卵石，小圆石( pebble的名词复数 ) | |
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52
sobbing
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| <主方>Ⅰ adj.湿透的 | |
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53
hawser
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| n.大缆；大索 | |
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54
feat
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| n.功绩；武艺，技艺；adj.灵巧的，漂亮的，合适的 | |
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55
intimacy
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| n.熟悉，亲密，密切关系，亲昵的言行 | |
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56
captivity
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| n.囚禁；被俘；束缚 | |
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57
innocence
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| n.无罪；天真；无害 | |
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