"None whatever, sir. I'm only too glad to get out whole and get my money back. It was quite an experience." Already Phillips' mind had ranged the events of the last crowded hour into some sort of order; his fancy had tinged1 them with a glamour2 already turning rosy3 with romance, and he told himself that his thrills had been worth their price.
"Lucky that woman showed up. Who is she?" Phillips shook his head. In his turn he inquired, "What are you going to do with the McCaskeys?"
The elder man's face hardened. "I don't know. This talk about hangin' makes me weary. I'd hang 'em; I'd kick a bar'l out from under either of 'em. I've done such things and I never had any bad dreams."
But it was plain that the sentiment favoring such extreme punishment had changed, for a suggestion was made to flog the thieves and send them out of the country. This met with instant response. A motion was put to administer forty lashes4 and it was carried with a whoop6.
Preparations to execute the sentence were immediately instituted. A scourge7 was prepared by wiring nine heavy leather thongs8 to a whip-handle, the platform was cleared, and a call was issued for a man to administer the punishment. Some delay ensued at this point, but finally a burly fellow volunteered, climbed to the stage, and removed his canvas coat.
Since the younger McCaskey appeared to be still somewhat dazed from the rough handling he had suffered, his brother was thrust forward. The latter was stripped to the waist, his wrists were firmly bound, then trussed up to one of the stout9 end-poles of the tent-frame which, skeleton-like, stood over the platform. This done, the committee fell back, and the wielder10 of the whip stepped forward.
The crowd had watched these grim proceedings11 intently; it became quite silent now. The hour was growing late, the day had been overcast12, and a damp chill that searched the marrow13 was settling as the short afternoon drew to a close. The prisoner's naked body showed very white beneath his shock of coal-black hair; his flesh seemed tender and the onlookers14 stared at it in fascination15.
Joe McCaskey was a man of nerve; he held himself erect16; there was defiance17 in the gaze which he leveled at the faces below him. But his brother Jim was not made of such stern, stuff—he was the meaner, the more cowardly of the pair—and these methodical preparations, the certainty of his own forthcoming ordeal18, bred in him a desperate panic. The sight of his brother's flesh bared to the bite of the lash5 brought home to him the horrifying19 significance of a flogging, and then, as if to emphasize that significance, the executioner gave his cat-o'-nine-tails a practice swing. As the lashes hissed20 through the air the victim at the post stiffened21 rigidly22, but his brother, outside the inclosure, writhed23 in his tracks and uttered a faint moan. Profiting by the inattention of his captors, Jim McCaskey summoned his strength and with an effort born of desperation wrenched24 himself free. Hands grasped at him as he bolted, bodies barred his way, but he bore them down; before the meaning of the commotion25 had dawned upon the crowd at large he had fought his way out and was speeding down the street. But fleet-footed men were at his heels, a roar of rage burst from the mob, and in a body it took up the chase. Down the stumpy, muddy trail went the pursuit, and every command to halt spurred the fleeing man to swifter flight. Cabin doors opened; people came running from their tents; some tried to fling themselves in the way of the escaping criminal; packers toiling26 up the trail heard the approaching clamor, shook off their burdens and endeavored to seize the figure that came bounding ahead of it. But Jim dodged27 them all. Failing in their attempt to intercept28 him, these newcomers joined the chase, and the fugitive29, once the first frenzy30 of excitement had died in him, heard their footsteps gaining on him. He was stark31 mad by now; black terror throttled32 him. Then some one fired a shot; that shot was followed by others; there came a scattered33 fusillade, and with a mighty34 leap Jim McCaskey fell. He collapsed35 in midair; he was dead when his pursuers reached him.
Mob spirit is a peculiar36 thing; its vagaries37 are difficult to explain or to analyze38. Some trivial occurrence may completely destroy its temper, or again merely serve to harden it and give it edge. In this instance the escape, the flight, the short, swift pursuit and its tragic39 ending, had the effect, not of sobering the assembled citizens of Sheep Camp, not of satisfying their long-slumbering rage, but of inflaming40 it, of intoxicating41 them to a state of insane triumph. Like the Paris mobs that followed shouting, in the wake of the tumbrels bound for the guillotine, these men came trooping back to the scene of execution, and as they came they bellowed42 hoarsely43 and they waved their arms.
Men react powerfully to environment; they put on rough ways with rough clothes. Smooth pavements, soap and hot water, safety-razors, are strong civilizing44 agents, but a man begins to revert45 in the time it takes his beard to grow. These fellows had left the world they knew behind them; they were in a world they knew not. Old standards had fallen, new standards had been reared, new values had attached to crime, therefore they demanded that the business in hand go on. Such was the spirit of the Chilkoot trail.
At the first stroke of the descending46 whip a howl went up—a merciless howl, a howl of fierce exultation47. Joe McCaskey rocked forward upon the balls of his feet; his frame was racked by a spasm48 of agony; he strained at his thongs until his shoulder muscles swelled49. The flesh of his back knotted and writhed; livid streaks50 leaped out upon it, then turned crimson51 and began to trickle52 blood.
"ONE!" roared the mob.
The wielder of the scourge swung his weapon again; again the leather strips wrapped around the victim's ribs53 and laid open their defenseless covering.
"TWO!"
McCaskey lunged forward, then strained, backward; the tent-frame creaked as he pulled at it. His head was drawn54 far back between his shoulders, his face was convulsed, and his gums were bared in a skyward grin. If he uttered any sound it was lost in the uproar55.
"THREE!"
"FOUR!"
"FIVE!"
The count went on monotonously57, for the fellow with the whip swung slowly, putting his whole strength behind every blow. When it had climbed to eight the prisoner's body was dripping with blood, his trousers-band was sodden58 with it. When it had reached ten he hung suspended by his wrists and only a fierce involuntary muscular reaction answered the caress59 of the nine lashes.
Forty stripes had been voted as the penalty, but 'Poleon Doret vaulted60 to the platform, seized the upraised whip, and tore it from the executioner's hand. He turned upon the crowd a countenance61 white with fury and disgust.
"Enough!" he shouted. "By Gar! You keel him next! If you mus' w'ip somebody, w'ip me; dis feller is mos' dead." He strode to the post and with a slash62 of his hunting-knife cut McCaskey down. This action was greeted by an angry yell of protest; there was a rush toward the platform, but 'Poleon was joined by the leader of the posse, who scrambled63 through the press and ranged himself in opposition64 to the audience. The old man was likewise satiated with this torture; his face was wet with sweat; beneath his drooping65 gray mustache his teeth were set.
"Back up, you hyenas66!" he cried, shrilly67. "The show's over. The man took his medicine and he took it like a man. He's had enough."
"Gimme the whip. I'll finish the job," some one shouted.
"You try it!" he spat69 out. "You touch that whip, and by God, I'll kill you!" He lent point to this threat by drawing and cocking his six-shooter. "If you men ain't had enough blood for one day, I'll let a little more for you." His words ended in a torrent70 of profanity. "Climb aboard!" he shrilled71. "Who's got the guts72 to try?"
Doret spoke73 to him shortly, "Dese men ain't goin' mak' no trouble, m'sieu'." With that he turned his back and, heedless of the clamor, began to minister to the bleeding man. He had provided himself with a bottle of lotion74, doubtless some antiseptic snatched from the canvas drugstore down the street, and with this he wet a handkerchief; then he washed McCaskey's lacerated back. A member of the committee joined him in this work of mercy; soon others came to their assistance, and gradually the crowd began breaking up. Some one handed the sufferer a drink of whisky, which revived him considerably75, and by the time he was ready to receive his upper garments he was to some extent master of himself.
Joe McCaskey accepted these attentions without a word of thanks, without a sign of gratitude76. He appeared to be numbed77, paralyzed, by the nervous shock he had undergone, and yet he was not paralyzed, for his eyes were intensely alive. They were wild, baleful; his roving glance was like poison to the men it fell upon.
"You're due to leave camp," he was told, "and you're going to take the first boat from Dyea. Is there anything you want to say, anything you want to do, before you go?"
"I—want something to—eat," Joe answered, hoarsely. "I'm hungry." These were the first words he had uttered; they met with astonishment78; nevertheless he was led to the nearest restaurant. Surrounded by a silent, curious group, he crouched79 over the board counter and wolfed a ravenous80 meal. When he had finished he rose, turned, and stared questioningly at the circle of hostile faces; his eyes still glittered with that basilisk glare of hatred81 and defiance. There was something huge, disconcerting, about the man. Not once had he appealed for mercy, not once had he complained, not once had he asked about his brother; he showed neither curiosity nor concern over Jim's fate, and now he betrayed the utmost indifference82 to his own. He merely shifted that venomous stare from one face to another as if indelibly to photograph each and every one of them upon his mind.
But the citizens of Sheep Camp were not done with him yet. His hands were again bound, this time behind him; a blanket roll was roped upon his shoulders, upon his breast was hung a staring placard which read:
"I am a thief! Spit on me and send me along."
Thus decorated, he met his crowning indignity83. Extending from the steps of the restaurant far down the street twin rows of men had formed, and this gauntlet Joe McCaskey was forced to run. He bore this ordeal as he had borne the other. Men jeered84 at him, they flung handfuls of wet moss86 and mud at him, they spat upon him, some even struck him, bound as he was.
Sickened at the sight, Pierce Phillips witnessed the final chapter of this tragedy into which the winds of chance had blown him. For one instant only did his eyes meet those of his former tentmate, but during that brief glance the latter made plain his undying hatred. McCaskey's gaze intensified87, his upper lip drew back in a grimace88 similar to that which he had lifted to the sky when agony ran through his veins89 like fire; he seemed to concentrate the last ounce of his soul's energy in the sending of some wordless message. Hellish fury, a threat too baneful90, too ominous91, for expression dwelt in that stare; then a splatter of mire92 struck him in the face and blotted93 it out.
When the last jeer85 had died away, when the figure of Joe McCaskey had disappeared into the misty94 twilight95, Phillips drew a deep breath. What a day this had been, what a tumult96 he had lived through, what an experience he had undergone! This was an adventure! He had lived, he had made an enemy. Life had come his way, and the consciousness of that fact caused him to tingle97. This would be something to talk about; what would the folks back home say to this? And the Countess—that wonderful woman of ice and fire! That superwoman who could sway the minds of men, whose wit was quicker than light. Well, she had saved him, saved his good name, if not his neck, and his life was hers. Who was she? What mission brought her here? What hurry crowded on her heels? What idle chance had flung them into each other's arms? Or was it idle chance? Was there such a thing as chance, after all? Were not men's random98 fortunes all laid out in conformity99 with some obscure purpose to form a part of some intricate design? Dust he was, dust blown upon the breath of the North, as were these other human atoms which had been borne thither100 from the farthest quarters of the earth; but when that dust had settled would it not arrange itself into patterns mapped out at the hour of birth or long before? Somehow he believed that such would be the case.
As for the Countess, his way was hers, her way was his; he could not bear to think of losing her. She was big, she was great, she drew him by the spell of some strange magic.
The peppery old man who, with Doret's help, had defied the miners' meeting approached him to inquire:
"Say, why didn't old Tom come back with you from Linderman?"
"Old Tom?"
"He was tired out."
"Tired!" Mr. Quirk snorted derisively102. "What tired him? He can't tote enough grub to satisfy his own hunger. Me, I'm double-trippin'—relayin' our stuff to the Summit and breakin' my back at it. I can't make him understand we'd ought to keep the outfit103 together; he's got it scattered like a mad woman's hair. But old Tom's in the sere104 and yellow leaf: he's onnery, like all old men. I try to humor him, but—here's a limit." The speaker looked Pierce over shrewdly. "You said you was packin' for wages. Well, old Tom ain't any help to me. You look strong. Mebbe I could hire you."
Phillips shook his head. "I don't want work just now," said he. "I'm going to Dyea in the morning."
Jim McCaskey was buried where he had fallen, and there beside the trail, so that all who passed might read and ponder, the men of Sheep Camp raised a board with this inscription105:
"Here lies the body of a thief."
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收听单词发音
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1
tinged
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| v.（使）发丁丁声( ting的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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2
glamour
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| n.魔力，魅力；vt.迷住 | |
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3
rosy
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| adj.美好的，乐观的，玫瑰色的 | |
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4
lashes
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| n.鞭挞( lash的名词复数 )；鞭子；突然猛烈的一击；急速挥动v.鞭打( lash的第三人称单数 )；煽动；紧系；怒斥 | |
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5
lash
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| v.系牢；鞭打；猛烈抨击；n.鞭打；眼睫毛 | |
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6
whoop
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| n.大叫，呐喊，喘息声；v.叫喊，喘息 | |
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7
scourge
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| n.灾难，祸害；v.蹂躏 | |
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8
thongs
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| 的东西 | |
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wielder
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| 行使者 | |
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proceedings
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| n.进程，过程，议程；诉讼(程序)；公报 | |
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overcast
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| adj.阴天的，阴暗的，愁闷的；v.遮盖，（使）变暗，包边缝；n.覆盖，阴天 | |
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13
marrow
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| n.骨髓；精华；活力 | |
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14
onlookers
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| n.旁观者，观看者( onlooker的名词复数 ) | |
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15
fascination
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| n.令人着迷的事物，魅力，迷恋 | |
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16
erect
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| n./v.树立，建立，使竖立；adj.直立的，垂直的 | |
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17
defiance
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| n.挑战，挑衅，蔑视，违抗 | |
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18
ordeal
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| n.苦难经历，（尤指对品格、耐力的）严峻考验 | |
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19
horrifying
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| a.令人震惊的，使人毛骨悚然的 | |
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20
hissed
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| 发嘶嘶声( hiss的过去式和过去分词 )； 发嘘声表示反对 | |
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21
stiffened
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| 加强的 | |
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rigidly
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| adv.刻板地，僵化地 | |
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23
writhed
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| （因极度痛苦而）扭动或翻滚( writhe的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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24
wrenched
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| v.（猛力地）扭( wrench的过去式和过去分词 )；扭伤；使感到痛苦；使悲痛 | |
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25
commotion
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| n.骚动，动乱 | |
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26
toiling
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| 长时间或辛苦地工作( toil的现在分词 )； 艰难缓慢地移动，跋涉 | |
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27
dodged
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| v.闪躲( dodge的过去式和过去分词 )；回避 | |
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28
intercept
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| vt.拦截，截住，截击 | |
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29
fugitive
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| adj.逃亡的，易逝的；n.逃犯，逃亡者 | |
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30
frenzy
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| n.疯狂，狂热，极度的激动 | |
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31
stark
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| adj.荒凉的；严酷的；完全的；adv.完全地 | |
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32
throttled
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| v.扼杀( throttle的过去式和过去分词 )；勒死；使窒息；压制 | |
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33
scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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34
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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35
collapsed
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| adj.倒塌的 | |
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36
peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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37
vagaries
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| n.奇想( vagary的名词复数 )；异想天开；异常行为；难以预测的情况 | |
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38
analyze
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| vt.分析，解析 (=analyse) | |
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39
tragic
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| adj.悲剧的，悲剧性的，悲惨的 | |
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40
inflaming
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| v.（使）变红，发怒，过热( inflame的现在分词 ) | |
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41
intoxicating
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| a. 醉人的,使人兴奋的 | |
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42
bellowed
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| v.发出吼叫声，咆哮（尤指因痛苦）( bellow的过去式和过去分词 )；（愤怒地）说出（某事），大叫 | |
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43
hoarsely
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| adv.嘶哑地 | |
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44
civilizing
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| v.使文明，使开化( civilize的现在分词 ) | |
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45
revert
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| v.恢复，复归，回到 | |
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46
descending
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| n. 下行 adj. 下降的 | |
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47
exultation
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| n.狂喜，得意 | |
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48
spasm
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| n.痉挛，抽搐；一阵发作 | |
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49
swelled
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| 增强( swell的过去式和过去分词 )； 肿胀； （使）凸出； 充满（激情） | |
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50
streaks
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| n.（与周围有所不同的）条纹( streak的名词复数 )；（通常指不好的）特征（倾向）；（不断经历成功或失败的）一段时期v.快速移动( streak的第三人称单数 )；使布满条纹 | |
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51
crimson
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| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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52
trickle
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| vi.淌，滴，流出，慢慢移动，逐渐消散 | |
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53
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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54
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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55
uproar
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| n.骚动，喧嚣，鼎沸 | |
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56
frightful
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| adj.可怕的；讨厌的 | |
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57
monotonously
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| adv.单调地，无变化地 | |
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58
sodden
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| adj.浑身湿透的；v.使浸透；使呆头呆脑 | |
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59
caress
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| vt./n.爱抚，抚摸 | |
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60
vaulted
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| adj.拱状的 | |
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61
countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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62
slash
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| vi.大幅度削减；vt.猛砍，尖锐抨击，大幅减少；n.猛砍，斜线，长切口，衣衩 | |
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63
scrambled
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| v.快速爬行( scramble的过去式和过去分词 )；攀登；争夺；（军事飞机）紧急起飞 | |
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64
opposition
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| n.反对，敌对 | |
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65
drooping
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| adj. 下垂的，无力的 动词droop的现在分词 | |
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66
hyenas
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| n.鬣狗( hyena的名词复数 ) | |
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67
shrilly
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| 尖声的； 光亮的，耀眼的 | |
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68
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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69
spat
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| n.口角，掌击；v.发出呼噜呼噜声 | |
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70
torrent
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| n.激流，洪流；爆发，(话语等的)连发 | |
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71
shrilled
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| （声音）尖锐的，刺耳的，高频率的( shrill的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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72
guts
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| v.狼吞虎咽，贪婪地吃，飞碟游戏（比赛双方每组5人，相距15码，互相掷接飞碟）；毁坏（建筑物等）的内部( gut的第三人称单数 )；取出…的内脏n.勇气( gut的名词复数 )；内脏；消化道的下段；肠 | |
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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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lotion
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| n.洗剂 | |
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75
considerably
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| adv.极大地；相当大地；在很大程度上 | |
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gratitude
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| adj.感激，感谢 | |
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numbed
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| v.使麻木，使麻痹( numb的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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78
astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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crouched
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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ravenous
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| adj.极饿的，贪婪的 | |
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81
hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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indignity
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| n.侮辱，伤害尊严，轻蔑 | |
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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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85
jeer
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| vi.嘲弄，揶揄；vt.奚落；n.嘲笑，讥评 | |
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86
moss
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| n.苔，藓，地衣 | |
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87
intensified
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| v.（使）增强， （使）加剧( intensify的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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grimace
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| v.做鬼脸，面部歪扭 | |
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veins
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| n.纹理；矿脉( vein的名词复数 )；静脉；叶脉；纹理 | |
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baneful
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| adj.有害的 | |
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ominous
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| adj.不祥的，不吉的，预兆的，预示的 | |
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mire
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| n.泥沼，泥泞；v.使...陷于泥泞，使...陷入困境 | |
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blotted
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| 涂污( blot的过去式和过去分词 )； （用吸墨纸）吸干 | |
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misty
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| adj.雾蒙蒙的，有雾的 | |
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twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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tumult
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| n.喧哗；激动，混乱；吵闹 | |
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tingle
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| vi.感到刺痛，感到激动；n.刺痛，激动 | |
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random
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| adj.随机的；任意的；n.偶然的(或随便的)行动 | |
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conformity
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| n.一致，遵从，顺从 | |
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100
thither
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| adv.向那里；adj.在那边的，对岸的 | |
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101
quirk
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| n.奇事，巧合；古怪的举动 | |
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102
derisively
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| adv. 嘲笑地，嘲弄地 | |
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103
outfit
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| n.（为特殊用途的）全套装备，全套服装 | |
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104
sere
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| adj.干枯的；n.演替系列 | |
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105
inscription
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| n.（尤指石块上的）刻印文字，铭文，碑文 | |
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