As for Frank, he had actually seen nothing, heard nothing except his brother's voice, and then—that sigh. For that very reason his terror was, if anything, even greater than his brother's.
During what seemed an age there was no sound except the stertorous5 breathing of the McCaskeys themselves and the stir of the dogs outside. The pale square of the single window, over which a bleached-out cotton flour-sack had been tacked6, let in only enough light to intensify7 the gloom. Within the cabin was a blackness thick, tangible8, oppressive; the brothers stared into it with bulging9 eyes and listened with ear-drums strained to the point of rupture10. Oddly enough, this utter silence augmented11 their agitation12. Unable finally to smother14 the evidence of his steadily15 growing fright, Frank uttered a half-audible moan. Joe in the next bunk16 put it down as a new and threatening phenomenon. What sort of thing was it that sighed and moaned thus? As evidence of the direction Joe's mind was taking, he wondered if these sounds could be the complaint of Courteau's unshriven spirit. It was a shocking thought, but involuntarily he gasped18 the dead man's name.
A guilty conscience is a proven coward-maker; so, too, is a quick, imaginative mind. It took only a moment or two to convince Joe that this nocturnal interloper was not a creature of flesh and blood, but some enormous, unmentionable, creeping thing come out of the other world—out of the cold earth—to visit punishment upon him for his crime. He could hear it stirring, finally, now here, now there; he could make out the rustle20 of its grave-clothes. There is no doubt that the cabin was full of half-distinguishable sounds—so is any warm habitation—but to Joe's panicky imagination the nature of these particular sounds indicated that they could not come from any normal, living being. There was, for instance, a slow, asthmatic wheezing21, like the breath of a sorely wounded man; a stretching and straining as of a body racked with mortal agony; even a faint bubbling choke like a death-rattle heard in an adjoining chamber22. These and others as horribly suggestive. Joe's wild agitation distorted all of them, no matter whether they came from his brother Frank, from the poorly seasoned pole rafters overhead, or from the sleepy dogs outside, and 'Poleon Doret, with a grim internal chuckle23, took advantage of the fact.
When finally the elder McCaskey heard his own name whispered, the last shred24 of self-control left to him was whipped away; his wits went skittering, and for a second time he groped with frantic25, twitching26 fingers for his revolver. He raised it and, with a yell, fired at random27 into the blackness, meanwhile covering his eyes with his left arm for fear of beholding28 in the sulphurous flash that bloodless, fleshless menace, whatever it might be.
Somehow he managed to get out of bed and to place his back against the wall, and there he cowered30 until he heard his brother's body threshing about the floor. As a matter of fact, that shot had sent Frank sprawling32 from his bunk, and he was striving to kick off the hampering33 folds of his sleeping-bag, nothing more; but the thumping34 of his knees and elbows bore a dreadful significance to the terrified listener. Evidently the Thing had closed in—had grappled with Frank. Its hands, damp with death sweat, even now were groping for him, Joe. The thought was unbearable36.
Blindly the elder brother thrust his revolver at full length in front of him and pulled the trigger; Frank shrieked37, but again and again Joe fired, and when the last cartridge38 was spent he continued to snap the weapon. He desisted only when he heard a voice, faint, but hoarse39 with agony, crying:
"O God! You've shot me, Joe! You've shot me!"
Then and not until then, did a sort of sanity40 come to the wretch41. The revolver slipped from his fingers; he felt his bones dissolving into water; a horror ten times greater than he had previously42 suffered fell upon him. He tried to speak, to throw off this hideous43 nightmare, but his voice came only as a dry, reedy whisper.
Frank was still now; he did not respond to his brother's incoherencies except with a deep groaning45 that momentarily became more alarming.
"I—I—didn't—Christ! I didn't shoot you … Frank! … Answer me! Say something. …" Even yet the dread35 of that hobgoblin presence lay like ice upon the elder brother; he feared to move lest he encounter it, lest he touch it and it enfold him; but when Frank's twitching body became still he fell to his knees and went groping forward on all-fours in search of it. Death was here now. He had slain46 his brother and there was NO LIGHT!
Joe began to sob47 and to chatter48 in a maudlin49 hysteria of fright and apprehension50. He succeeded in finding Frank by the sound of his breathing, and he was pawing at him and wildly calling his name when at his back a match was struck.
The sound, the flare51, brought a scream from his throat. He cringed and cowered; the pallid52 face he raised was slack-jawed, his gaze was that of a crazy man.
Slowly, very slowly his dementia left him. His eyes were still distended53, to be sure, but into them sanity, recognition, began to creep. He stared dazedly54 about him, and at last he managed to speak Doret's name.
"Wh-what you doing—here?" he breathed.
"Me? I come to tak' you back." Joe shook his head weakly. "You can't. We're across—safe." His eyes dropped to the prostrate55 body beside which he knelt, and a new thought swiftly flooded his vacant mind. "Look! You—Now I understand. YOU did it! YOU shot him. I never—BY GOD!" The fellow's insane vehemence57, the panting eagerness with which he undertook to absolve58 himself from the hideous results of his deed, argued that he loved his brother. He rose slowly to his feet, his countenance59 flaming, his gaze fixed60 in an arresting expression of mingled61 rage and horror upon the woodsman's face. "You did it, damn you! Shot him, in the dark, asleep! Now you want me … Take me back, eh? You can't do it. I'm safe … safe … !"
'Poleon uttered a grunt62. He leaned his carbine against the wall behind him, and from his pocket he drew a thin cotton sled-rope. With this in his hand he advanced upon the slayer63.
McCaskey retreated. Weakly at first he fought off his captor; then, as fear overwhelmed him, he became possessed64 of a phrenetic energy and struggled with the strength of two men. He struck, he bit, he clawed, he kicked. It was like the battle of a man with a beast—ferocious, merciless—while it lasted. They rocked about the cabin, heedless of the wounded man; the stove came crashing down and they trampled65 the pipe under their feet.
But McCaskey collapsed66 as suddenly as he had flown to action. When 'Poleon trussed him up he had neither strength nor spirit either for resistance or for resentment67. He was as spineless as a wet sack. With anguished68 eyes he watched his captor lift Frank into a bunk and then proceed to do what remained to be done. Bleak69 of face, lifeless of voice, hopeless of expression, he answered the questions put to him and made no feeblest effort at concealment71. He was, in fact, no longer capable of any resistance, mental or physical.
Frank died as the first ashen72 streaks73 of dawn came through the window and lit the sickly face of the brother who had slain him. There was no longer need of the rope; in fact, Joe implored74 his captor with such earnestness not to leave him alone that 'Poleon untied75 his hands, feeling sure that he was impotent. Joe followed him outside, and stood near by while he harnessed the dogs; he accompanied every step the woodsman took—wild horses could not have dragged him away in his present frame of mind—and finally, when they set out back toward the Canadian Line, he shambled along ahead of the team with head down and eyes averted76 from the gruesome bundle that lay in the sled. His punishment had overtaken him and he was unequal to it.
Dawson was in ferment77, for the news of another "strike" had come in and a stampede was under way. Discoveries of gold, or rumors78 of them, had been common. The camp had thrilled to many Arabian Nights tales, but this one was quite the most sensational80 of all. So amazing, so unbelievable was it, in truth, that those who had been too often fooled laughed at it and declared it impossible on its face. Some woodcutters on the hills above El Dorado had been getting out dry timber for the drift fires, so ran the report, and in shooting the tree-trunks down into the valley they had discovered a deposit of wash gravel81. One of them, possessed of the prospector's instinct, had gophered a capful of the gravel from off the rim19 where the plunging83 tree-trunks had dug through the snow and exposed the outcropping bedrock, and, to satisfy his curiosity, had taken it down to camp for a test. He had thawed84 and panned it; to his amazement85, he had discovered that it carried an astonishing value in gold—coarse, rough gold—exactly like that in the creek86 pay-streak, except with less signs of abrasion87 and erosion. Rumor79 placed the contents of that first prospect82 at ten dollars. Ten cents would have meant the riches of Aladdin, but—ten dollars! No wonder the wiseacres shook their heads. Ten dollars to the pan, on a hilltop! Absurd! How did metal of that specific gravity get up there? How could there be wash gravel on the crest88 of a mountain? There was no sense to such a proposition.
But such old California placer miners as chanced to hear of it lost no time in hitting the trail. They were familiar with high bars, prehistoric89 riverbeds, and they went as fast as their old legs would carry them.
More faith was put in the story when it became known that the diggings were being deserted90 and that the men of El Dorado and Bonanza91 were quitting their jobs, actually leaving their thawed drifts to freeze while they scattered92 over the domes93 and saddles round about, staking claims. That settled matters, so far as Dawson was concerned; men who had dogs hitched94 them up, those who had none rolled their packs; soon the trail up the Klondike was black and the recorder's office prepared for riotous95 activity.
Those who had set out thus late met excited travelers hastening townward, and from them obtained confirmation96. Yes, the story was true, more than true! The half had not been told as yet. Gold lay under the grass roots where anybody could see it; it was more plentiful97 than in the creeks—this was the richest thing ever known. "Frenchman's Hill," the discovery had been named, but all the ground for miles round about had been already staked and now men were going even further afield. It was well to hurry.
A frenzy98 took possession of the hearers, and they pressed on more rapidly. This was like the rush of the autumn previous, from Dyea to the Chilkoot, only here dogs flew under snapping lashes99; pedestrians100, when shouldered aside, abandoned their burdens and sacrificed all to speed. At the Forks the new arrivals scattered up over the hills, and that night road-houses, cabins, tents, were crowded; men slept on chairs, on floors; they stood around open fires.
Dawson awoke, on the second morning, to behold29 a long queue of fur-clad miners waiting outside the Gold Commissioner's office; the town took on an electric liveliness. This signified big things; it gave permanence; it meant that Dawson was to be the world's first placer camp. Business picked up, the saloons became thronged102, on every corner knots of gossiping men assembled. There began a considerable speculation103 in claims on Frenchman's Hill; merchants planned larger stocks for the next season; the price of town lots doubled.
Late that afternoon through the streets ran a cry that took every foot-free man hurrying to the river-front. "Rock was coming!" In a jiffy the vantage-points were crowded. Sure enough, far down the Yukon two teams were approaching; with the smoke of Dawson in their nostrils104 they were coming on the run, and soon the more keen-eyed spectators announced that they could make out 'Poleon Doret. The lieutenant105 himself, however, was not in evidence. Instantly speculation became rife106. Here was a sensation indeed, and when the second runner was identified beyond question as Joe McCaskey, excitement doubled. Where was Rock? Where was the other fugitive107? What, in the name of all that was unexpected, had occurred?
A shout of relief issued from the crowd when the teams drew in under the bank and Rock sat up, waving a mittened108 hand; the shout was quickly hushed as the lookers-on saw what sort of burden Joe McCaskey was driving.
Up into the main street came the cavalcade109. The crowd fell in alongside and ran with it to the Barracks, clamoring for details, pouring questions upon the returning travelers. Joe McCaskey, of course, was speechless, this ordeal110 proving, as a matter of fact, scarcely less trying than that other one at Sheep Camp when he had run the gauntlet. As for Rock and the French Canadian, neither had much to say, and as a result sensational stories soon spread through the resorts. The Mounted Policeman had got his men, as usual, but only after a desperate affray in which Frank McCaskey had fallen and the officer himself had been wounded—so ran the first account. Those who had gone as far as the Barracks returned with a fanciful tale of a siege in the snow and of Rock's single-handed conquest of the two fugitives111. These conflicting reports were confusing and served to set the town so completely agog112 that it awaited fuller details with the most feverish113 impatience114. One thing only was certain—the lieutenant had again made himself a hero; he had put a new feather in his cap. Men lifted glasses to him and to the Force. Such efficiency as this commanded their deepest respect and admiration115.
Pierce Phillips, of course, was the most eager member of that welcoming throng101. At the earliest moment he bore 'Poleon away to his cabin, and there, when the last morbid116 curiosity-seeker had been shaken off and the dogs had been attended to, he heard the story.
"You don' got no more worry," 'Poleon told him, with a smile. "Joe keel' de Count."
"He confessed? Really?"
"She is indeed. But Frank? What happened? How did you manage—?"
'Poleon hesitated. There was a reason why he did not wish the details of that affair on the upper Forty Mile to become public. Joe McCaskey was beginning to talk loudly about his outraged118 rights, his citizenship119, international law, and such incomprehensible things—but stronger by far than any fear of consequences to himself, remote at best, 'Poleon felt a desire to help his friend, the Police lieutenant. Rock was deeply humiliated120 at his weak failure in living up to his reputation; he felt that he had cut a very sorry figure indeed; and, although he had undertaken to conceal70 that feeling from 'Poleon, the latter had read him like a book and had secretly made up his mind to give full credit to the officer, eliminating himself as much as possible. There was no reason why the actual facts should be made public, so far as he could see, and, once an artfully colored account of the exploit had gained currency, Rock could not well contradict it. He might, undoubtedly121 would, make a truthful122 report to his superiors, but 'Poleon determined123 that in the eyes of the hero-worshiping people of Dawson the fellow should still remain a hero and stand for one hundred per cent. efficiency. That was quite as it should be.
It was not difficult to distort the story enough to reverse the roles he and the officer had played, and, when he had finished, Pierce was loud in his praise of the Mounted Policeman.
"Well, things happened here, too," the youth declared. Succinctly124 he told the story of Laure's delayed confession125 proving that he had been the victim of a deliberate conspiracy126. "Believe me, I'm glad it has all come out so well," he said. "People didn't actually accuse me, but I was conscious of their suspicion, their doubt. I had talked too much. Then, too, there was that beastly rumor about the Countess and me. It was fierce! Appearances were strong. I'd—have gone on the stampede, only I didn't have the heart. You've heard about that, of course? The new strike?" When 'Poleon shook his head the young man's eyes kindled127. "Why, man," he broke out, "the town's crazy! dippy! It's the biggest thing ever! Frenchman's Hill, it's called. Get that? Frenchman's Hill!"
"Some French feller mak' lucky strike, eh?" 'Poleon was not greatly interested. "Where de place is? Who dis Frenchman?"
"It's a high bar somewhere above El Dorado—a mountain of pay gravel—an old river-bed or something. They say it's where all the gold came from, the mother lode128. You can see it right at the grass roots—"
'Poleon started and his mouth opened; then he shook his head.
"By Gar! Dat's fonny! I seen gravel up dere, but me—I'm onlucky. Never I quite get not'in'; always I'm close by when 'noder feller mak' strike."
Pierce still managed to control himself enough to explain: "They were shooting dead timber down into the gulch129 and they wore the snow off where the rim cropped out. It happened to be staked ground right there." Pierce's excitement, the odd light in his dancing eyes, bore to 'Poleon a significance. "Some Frenchman had taken it up, so they called it Frenchman's Hill."
Doret's blank, confounded stare caused the speaker finally to blurt130 out: "Good Heavens! man, wake up! I'm trying to break the news gently that you're a millionaire—the Frenchman of Frenchman's Hill. I don't want you to faint. First time in history a miner ever left his claim and another fellow came along—"
Doret uttered a feeble cry and rose to his feet. "Ma soeur!" he exclaimed. "She's got claim up dere—I stake it for her. For me, I don' care if I lose mine—plenty tam I come jus' so close as dis; but if dem feller jump her groun'—"
"Wait, wait! There's no question of anything like that. Nobody has jumped your claim, or hers, either. The law wouldn't let 'em. I wonder if she knows—Why, she CAN'T know! I left her not two hours ago—"
"She don' know?"
Pierce shook his head. "She doesn't dream. I wish I'D known. I'd have loved to tell her."
'Poleon Doret gazed fixedly131, curiously132 at the speaker. He nodded his head. A peculiar133, set, hopeless look crept into his eyes; his broad shoulders sagged134 wearily. He had traveled far and swiftly on this young man's affairs; he had slept but little; and now a great fatigue135 mastered him. Oddly enough, too, that fierce, consuming desire to see Rouletta which had hourly gnawed136 at him was gone; all at once he felt that she was quite the last person he wished to face. This weakness, this smallness of spirit, was only temporary, he assured himself; it would soon pass, and then he would find the strength to go to her with his customary smile, his mask in place. Now, however, he was empty, cheerless, frightened by the portent137 of this new thing. It could have but one significance—it meant that he would lose his "sister," that she would have no further need of him.
Well, that was all right. It was something like this that he had worked for. Why cherish a mean envy of this happy boy? Why permit a narrow selfishness to mar44 this supreme138 moment?
Doret was not a grudging139 giver; he straightened himself finally, and into his tired eyes there came the gleam that Phillips had been waiting for.
"Bien!" he breathed. "My li'l bird goin' wear de plumage she deserve. She's goin' be reech an' happy all her life. By golly! Dat's nice, for fac'. I feel lak gettin' drunk."
"She'd never stand for that."
"I spec' you tol' her you an' me is pardners on dis Frenchman' Hill, eh? An' she's glad 'bout31 dat—"
"Oh, see here!" Pierce's tone changed abruptly140. "Of course I didn't tell her. That's cold; it's off. D'you think I'd permit—" The boy choked and stammered141. "D'you imagine for a minute that I'd let you go through with a proposition like that? I understand why you made it—to get me away from the life I've been leading. It was bully142 of you, but—well, hardly. I'm not that sort. No, I've laid off the old stuff, absolutely—straightened out. I've lived ten years in the last ten days. Wait and see. 'Poleon, I'm the happiest, the most deliriously143 happy man you ever saw. I only want one thing. That's work and lots of it—the harder the better, so long as it's honest and self-respecting. What d'you think of that?"
"W'at I t'ink?" the woodsman said, warmly. "I t'ink dat's de bes' news of all. Mon ami, you got reecher pay-streak in you as Frenchman' Hill, if only you work 'im hard. But you need pardner to get 'im out." He winked145 meaningly. "I guess mebbe you fin13' dat pardner, eh?"
Pierce flushed; he nodded vigorously and laughed in the purest, frankest joy. "You're a good guesser. A partner—life partner! I—She—Oh, my Lord! I'm overflowing147! I'm—Funny thing, I've never said a word to her; she doesn't know—"
"Ho, ho!" cried the elder man.
"Oh, she does know, of course. If she didn't I wouldn't feel as I do, but we've never actually mentioned it. I've got to prove myself, understand? It came to me of a sudden, struck me all in a heap, I can tell you. I saw what a fool I'd made of myself. What a damnable thing chance is, anyhow! It makes you, breaks you; carries you along and leaves you stranded148 finally, then sweeps you on again. Fortunately, she's big enough to understand and make allowances. If she weren't, I'd die. I wouldn't want to live and not make good. It's ecstasy149 and it's—pain. I'm frightened, too, at my own unworthiness—" Abruptly the speaker's voice ceased and he bowed his head.
'Poleon wet his dry lips and essayed to speak, but he could find nothing to say. Of course Rouletta was big enough to understand and make allowance for any human shortcomings. She was the sanest150, the most liberal, the most charitable of girls. And it was true, too, that love came unbidden. He had learned that, to his cost. It was pretty hard to stand quietly and lend a sympathetic ear to this lucky devil; it took an effort to maintain a smile, to keep a friendly gaze fixed upon Phillips' face. The big fellow was growing weary of forever fighting himself. It would be a relief to get away and to yield to his misery151.
But with a lover's fatuous152 absorption in his own affairs Pierce resumed: "I've been thinking lately how I came to this country looking for Life, the big adventure. Everything that happened, good or bad, was part of a stage play. I've been two people in one—the fellow who did things and the fellow who looked on and applauded—actor and audience. It was tremendously interesting in an unreal sort of way, and I jotted153 everything down mentally. I was stocking up with experience. Understand? Well, the whole thing has suddenly become very different. I'm not in the gallery now, not in the theater at all, not acting154. And I thank God for it. I don't imagine that I make myself plain in the least—"
Evidently he had not; evidently, too, his auditor's mind had strayed slightly, for the latter said:
"I s'pose you t'inkin' all at once 'bout gettin'—marry, eh?"
Phillips paled; he uttered a panicky denial. "Not yet! Oh no—! That is, I've THOUGHT about it a good deal—can't think of anything else—but it's too early yet. I'm in no position; I must make good first."
"For why it's too early? Mebbe dis gal goin' tak' lot of fun in he'p you mak' good."
"I wonder—"
"Sure t'ing. All women is lak dat. You goin' t'ink of her after dis, not yourse'f. She's got money—"
"Oh yes. That makes it hard, still—"
"Wal, you ain't broke, my frien', not wit' half interes' in Discovery on Frenchman' Hill."
"Once and for all," Pierce protested, in extreme agitation, "I tell you
I won't take it. My Lord! that's generous! You're a princely fellow,
Doret, but—the most you can give me is a job. Work? Yes, I'll eat that
up."
"All right. We talk 'bout dat 'noder tam. Now, mebbe so she lak hear de lates' news from you. Dere's plenty for tellin' her—'bout Joe McCaskey an' all de res'. You can spoke155 now, lak hones' man. Sapre! Don' you s'pose she's waitin' to hear you say you love her? An' how you goin' mak' big success? By Gar! I keeck you out dis cabin if you keep her waitin' some more!"
With a cry, half of trepidation156, half of exultance, Phillips crushed his cap upon his head. "I—I've a notion to. I can ALMOST say it; anyhow, I can say enough so she'll understand. Gad157! I will! I just needed you to stiffen158 me up." Fiercely he wrung159 the woodsman's hand, and, forgetful of all else but his new determination, moved toward the door. "Thanks for all you've done for me, old man, and all you've offered to do."
"Frenchman' Hill is nice place for two nestin' doves—fine place for sing an' be happy," the other reminded him.
In a choking voice Pierce exclaimed: "You're a prince, Doret, and I won't forget! A prince!"
He was gone; the cabin door had slammed shut with a crash. 'Poleon sank to a seat and with a long sigh bowed his head.
It was over; he had done his bit. For a long while he remained there inert160, his patient, haggard face bent161, his eyes fixed upon the floor. He felt very old, very much used up, and the labor162 of thinking was unbearable. When the fire had died and a chill had crept into the room he roused himself to note that it had grown dark. Manifestly, this would not do; there was the problem of living still to face. Sooner or later this very evening he must go to Rouletta and pretend to a joyousness163 he could never again know. That meant more smiles, more effort; it would take all he had in him to carry it off, and, meanwhile, the more he let his mind dwell upon her the more unbearable became his thoughts. This solitude164 was playing tricks with him. Enough of it! He must get out into the lights; he must hear voices and regain165 the mastery of himself through contact with sane56 people. Perhaps in the saloons, the restaurants, he could absorb enough laughter to make safe the mockery he purposed; perhaps it would enable him to stamp a grin upon his features.
But his impulse was futile166; in spite of himself he shrank from people and hid himself unobtrusively in a corner of the first place he entered. He was hurt, wounded, sick to death; he longed to creep away somewhere and be alone with his pain.
In order that he might the sooner be free to do so, he rose finally and slunk out upon the street. It would soon be time for Rouletta to go to work. He would get it over with.
Cap in hand, his heart beating heavily at the prospect of merely seeing her, he came on noiseless soles to her door. He could hear her stirring inside, so he took a deep breath and rapped softly.
She uttered a cry when she saw him standing167 there; then a sudden pallor crept into her cheeks, a queer constraint168 enveloped169 her. Nevertheless, she put both her hands in his and drew him across the threshold. She said something which neither of them understood.
'Poleon's ears were roaring, but after a few moments he discovered that she was gently chiding170 him. Where had he been? Why had he delayed so long, knowing all the time that she was dying to see him and to hear his story? He could not understand her embarrassment171, her shyness, the fact that she seemed hurt.
"Wal, I'm tucker' out wit' travelin'," he declared. "Dat's hardes' trip ever I mak'. You hear 'bout 'im, eh?—'bout how McCaskey tell de truth?"
Rouletta nodded, with a curious little smile upon her lips. "Yes. I heard all about it, the first thing—how Rock ran down those fellows—everything. The town was ringing with his name inside of an hour. Of course, I went to the Barracks, finally, looking for you. I'm just back. I saw the lieutenant and—he told me the true story."
'Poleon stirred uncomfortably.
"He swore at you roundly and said he'd take it out of your skin as soon as he was able—giving him the credit. He told me it was you who did it all—how you followed those men over the Line, alone, after he played out; how Joe McCaskey killed his own brother in trying to kill you. But the whole thing is public now. I heard it as I came back. You're quite a famous character in Dawson to-night, 'Poleon dear, what with this and with Frenchman's Hill."
"Ho! Dat Frenchman' Hill," the man broke out, hurriedly. "It's beeg s'prise for us, eh? Pierce told you 'bout dat?"
"You 'member I stake two claim', one for you, one for me. By golly! ma soeur, you're millionaire."
"I remembered, of course," Rouletta said, faintly. "I—" She closed her eyes. "I couldn't believe it, however. At first I didn't understand where the strike had been made; then I couldn't credit it. I thought I was dreaming—"
"You dream as much as you can," 'Poleon said, warmly. "Dey all come true now. What? Everyt'ing come out nice, eh?"
Rouletta opened her eyes. They were shining; so, too, was her face.
"Yes, my dream has come true—that is, my biggest, finest dream.
I'm—the happiest girl in the world, 'Poleon."
"Ma soeur!" the man cried brokenly and with a depth of feeling that even Rouletta could not fathom173. "I give my life to hear you say dose word', to see dat light in your eye. No price too high for dat."
A silence, throbbing174, intense, fell between them, Rouletta felt her heart-beats swaying her. She opened her lips, but no sound issued. The figure before her was growing misty175 and she had to wink144 the tears back into place.
"'Ma soeur!'" she echoed, faintly. "I love to hear you say that, dear. It has grown to be a caress176, a—kiss, when you say it. But I've something to tell you—"
"I know."
"Something you don't know and would never guess. I've found another brother." When he stared at her in open bewilderment she repeated: "Yes, another brother. I took him for something altogether different, but—" She laughed happily. "What do you think of a girl who doesn't know her own mind? Who lets the one man, the real man, go away? She doesn't deserve much, does she?"
"Ma soeur! Ma soeur!" the big fellow cried, hoarsely177. He had fallen all atremble now; he could have believed himself demented only for something in Rouletta's face. "You mean—HIM? Wat's dis you sayin'?"
"I mean him—you. Who else could I mean? He doesn't care for me, but for another, and I'm—oh, so glad!"
"Mon Dieu!" 'Poleon gasped. "For why you look at me lak dat? Don'—don'—!" His cry was one of pain, of reproach; he closed his eyes the while he strove to still his working features. He opened them with a snap when a small, warm, tremulous hand closed over his.
"You wouldn't mind if he called me his sister, if—if you called me—something else, would you, dear?"
"Oh, ma soeur!" he whispered. "I'm poor, ignorant feller. I ain't no good. But you—de bes' man in all de worl' would love you."
"He does, but he won't say so," Rouletta declared. "Come, must I say it for him?"
One last protest the fellow voiced. "Me, I'm rough-neck man. I scarcely read an' write. But you—"
"I'm a gambler's daughter, nothing more—a bold and forward creature. But I'm done with dealing178. I'm tired of the game and henceforth I'm going to be the 'lookout'—your 'lookout,' dear." With a choking little laugh the girl drew nearer, and, lifting his hands, she crept inside his arms. Then as life, vigor146, fire succeeded his paralysis179, she swayed closer, until her breast was against his.
With a wordless, hungry cry of ecstasy, so keen that it was akin17 to agony, 'Poleon Doret enfolded her in his great embrace. "Don' spoke no more," he implored her. "I'll be wakin' up too soon."
They stood so for a long time before she raised her dewy lips to his.
该作者的其它作品《The Barrier》
《The Auction Block》
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1
superstitious
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| adj.迷信的 | |
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2
frayed
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| adj.磨损的v.（使布、绳等）磨损，磨破( fray的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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3
awakened
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| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
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4
darting
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| v.投掷，投射( dart的现在分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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5
stertorous
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| adj.打鼾的 | |
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tacked
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| 用平头钉钉( tack的过去式和过去分词 )； 附加，增补； 帆船抢风行驶，用粗线脚缝 | |
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7
intensify
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| vt.加强；变强；加剧 | |
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8
tangible
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| adj.有形的，可触摸的，确凿的，实际的 | |
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9
bulging
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| 膨胀； 凸出（部）； 打气； 折皱 | |
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10
rupture
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| n.破裂；(关系的)决裂；v.(使)破裂 | |
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11
Augmented
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| adj.增音的 动词augment的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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12
agitation
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| n.搅动；搅拌；鼓动，煽动 | |
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13
fin
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| n.鳍；(飞机的)安定翼 | |
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14
smother
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| vt./vi.使窒息；抑制；闷死；n.浓烟；窒息 | |
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15
steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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16
bunk
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| n.(车、船等倚壁而设的)铺位；废话 | |
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17
akin
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| adj.同族的，类似的 | |
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gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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19
rim
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| n.(圆物的)边，轮缘；边界 | |
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20
rustle
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| v.沙沙作响；偷盗(牛、马等)；n.沙沙声声 | |
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21
wheezing
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| v.喘息，发出呼哧呼哧的喘息声( wheeze的现在分词 )；哮鸣 | |
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22
chamber
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| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
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23
chuckle
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| vi.／n.轻声笑，咯咯笑 | |
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24
shred
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| v.撕成碎片，变成碎片；n.碎布条，细片，些少 | |
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25
frantic
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| adj.狂乱的，错乱的，激昂的 | |
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26
twitching
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| n.颤搐 | |
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27
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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28
beholding
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| v.看，注视( behold的现在分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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29
behold
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| v.看，注视，看到 | |
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30
cowered
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| v.畏缩，抖缩( cower的过去式 ) | |
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31
bout
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| n.侵袭，发作；一次(阵，回)；拳击等比赛 | |
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32
sprawling
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| adj.蔓生的，不规则地伸展的v.伸开四肢坐[躺]( sprawl的现在分词 )；蔓延；杂乱无序地拓展；四肢伸展坐着（或躺着） | |
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33
hampering
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| 妨碍，束缚，限制( hamper的现在分词 ) | |
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34
thumping
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| adj.重大的，巨大的；重击的；尺码大的；极好的adv.极端地；非常地v.重击(thump的现在分词)；狠打；怦怦地跳；全力支持 | |
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35
dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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36
unbearable
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| adj.不能容忍的；忍受不住的 | |
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37
shrieked
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| v.尖叫( shriek的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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38
cartridge
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| n.弹壳，弹药筒；(装磁带等的)盒子 | |
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39
hoarse
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| adj.嘶哑的，沙哑的 | |
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40
sanity
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| n.心智健全，神智正常，判断正确 | |
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41
wretch
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| n.可怜的人，不幸的人；卑鄙的人 | |
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42
previously
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| adv.以前，先前（地） | |
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43
hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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44
mar
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| vt.破坏，毁坏，弄糟 | |
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45
groaning
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| adj. 呜咽的, 呻吟的 动词groan的现在分词形式 | |
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46
slain
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| 杀死，宰杀，杀戮( slay的过去分词 )； (slay的过去分词) | |
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47
sob
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| n.空间轨道的轰炸机；呜咽，哭泣 | |
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48
chatter
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| vi.／n.喋喋不休；短促尖叫；(牙齿)打战 | |
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49
maudlin
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| adj.感情脆弱的，爱哭的 | |
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50
apprehension
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| n.理解，领悟；逮捕，拘捕；忧虑 | |
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51
flare
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| v.闪耀，闪烁；n.潮红；突发 | |
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52
pallid
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| adj.苍白的，呆板的 | |
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53
distended
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| v.（使）膨胀，肿胀( distend的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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54
dazedly
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| 头昏眼花地，眼花缭乱地，茫然地 | |
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55
prostrate
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| v.拜倒，平卧，衰竭；adj.拜倒的，平卧的，衰竭的 | |
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56
sane
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| adj.心智健全的，神志清醒的，明智的，稳健的 | |
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57
vehemence
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| n.热切；激烈；愤怒 | |
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58
absolve
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| v.赦免，解除（责任等） | |
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59
countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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60
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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61
mingled
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| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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62
grunt
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| v.嘟哝；作呼噜声；n.呼噜声，嘟哝 | |
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63
slayer
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| n. 杀人者，凶手 | |
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64
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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65
trampled
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| 踩( trample的过去式和过去分词 )； 践踏； 无视； 侵犯 | |
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66
collapsed
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| adj.倒塌的 | |
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67
resentment
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| n.怨愤，忿恨 | |
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68
anguished
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| adj.极其痛苦的v.使极度痛苦(anguish的过去式) | |
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69
bleak
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| adj.(天气)阴冷的；凄凉的；暗淡的 | |
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70
conceal
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
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71
concealment
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| n.隐藏, 掩盖，隐瞒 | |
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72
ashen
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| adj.灰的 | |
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73
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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74
implored
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| 恳求或乞求（某人）( implore的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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75
untied
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| 松开，解开( untie的过去式和过去分词 )； 解除，使自由； 解决 | |
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76
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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77
ferment
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| vt.使发酵；n./vt.（使）激动，（使）动乱 | |
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78
rumors
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| n.传闻( rumor的名词复数 )；[古]名誉；咕哝；[古]喧嚷v.传闻( rumor的第三人称单数 )；[古]名誉；咕哝；[古]喧嚷 | |
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79
rumor
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| n.谣言，谣传，传说 | |
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80
sensational
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| adj.使人感动的，非常好的，轰动的，耸人听闻的 | |
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81
gravel
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| n.砂跞；砂砾层；结石 | |
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82
prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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83
plunging
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| adj.跳进的，突进的v.颠簸( plunge的现在分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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84
thawed
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| 解冻 | |
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85
amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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86
creek
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| n.小溪，小河，小湾 | |
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87
abrasion
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| n.磨（擦）破，表面磨损 | |
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88
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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89
prehistoric
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| adj.（有记载的）历史以前的，史前的，古老的 | |
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90
deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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91
bonanza
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| n.富矿带，幸运，带来好运的事 | |
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92
scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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93
domes
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| n.圆屋顶( dome的名词复数 )；像圆屋顶一样的东西；圆顶体育场 | |
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94
hitched
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| （免费）搭乘他人之车( hitch的过去式和过去分词 )； 搭便车； 攀上； 跃上 | |
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95
riotous
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| adj.骚乱的；狂欢的 | |
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96
confirmation
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| n.证实，确认，批准 | |
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97
plentiful
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| adj.富裕的，丰富的 | |
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98
frenzy
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| n.疯狂，狂热，极度的激动 | |
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99
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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100
pedestrians
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| n.步行者( pedestrian的名词复数 ) | |
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101
throng
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| n.人群，群众；v.拥挤，群集 | |
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102
thronged
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| v.成群，挤满( throng的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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103
speculation
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| n.思索，沉思；猜测；投机 | |
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104
nostrils
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| 鼻孔( nostril的名词复数 ) | |
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105
lieutenant
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| n.陆军中尉，海军上尉；代理官员，副职官员 | |
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106
rife
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| adj.(指坏事情)充斥的，流行的，普遍的 | |
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107
fugitive
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| adj.逃亡的，易逝的；n.逃犯，逃亡者 | |
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108
mittened
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| v.（使）变得潮湿，变得湿润( moisten的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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109
cavalcade
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| n.车队等的行列 | |
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110
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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111
fugitives
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| n.亡命者，逃命者( fugitive的名词复数 ) | |
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112
agog
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| adj.兴奋的，有强烈兴趣的； adv.渴望地 | |
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113
feverish
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| adj.发烧的，狂热的，兴奋的 | |
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114
impatience
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| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
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115
admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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116
morbid
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| adj.病的；致病的；病态的；可怕的 | |
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gal
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| n.姑娘，少女 | |
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outraged
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| a.震惊的，义愤填膺的 | |
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119
citizenship
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| n.市民权，公民权，国民的义务(身份) | |
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120
humiliated
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| 感到羞愧的 | |
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121
undoubtedly
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| adv.确实地，无疑地 | |
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122
truthful
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| adj.真实的，说实话的，诚实的 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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succinctly
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| adv.简洁地；简洁地，简便地 | |
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125
confession
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| n.自白，供认，承认 | |
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126
conspiracy
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| n.阴谋，密谋，共谋 | |
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127
kindled
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| （使某物）燃烧，着火( kindle的过去式和过去分词 )； 激起（感情等）； 发亮，放光 | |
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128
lode
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| n.矿脉 | |
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129
gulch
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| n.深谷，峡谷 | |
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130
blurt
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| vt.突然说出，脱口说出 | |
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131
fixedly
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| adv.固定地；不屈地，坚定不移地 | |
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curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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134
sagged
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| 下垂的 | |
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fatigue
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| n.疲劳，劳累 | |
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136
gnawed
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| 咬( gnaw的过去式和过去分词 )； （长时间） 折磨某人； （使）苦恼； （长时间）危害某事物 | |
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137
portent
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| n.预兆；恶兆；怪事 | |
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supreme
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| adj.极度的，最重要的；至高的，最高的 | |
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grudging
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| adj.勉强的，吝啬的 | |
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abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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stammered
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| v.结巴地说出( stammer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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bully
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| n.恃强欺弱者，小流氓；vt.威胁，欺侮 | |
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deliriously
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| adv.谵妄（性）；发狂；极度兴奋/亢奋；说胡话 | |
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wink
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| n.眨眼，使眼色，瞬间；v.眨眼，使眼色，闪烁 | |
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winked
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| v.使眼色( wink的过去式和过去分词 )；递眼色（表示友好或高兴等）；（指光）闪烁；闪亮 | |
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146
vigor
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| n.活力，精力，元气 | |
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overflowing
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| n. 溢出物,溢流 adj. 充沛的，充满的 动词overflow的现在分词形式 | |
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stranded
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| a.搁浅的，进退两难的 | |
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ecstasy
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| n.狂喜，心醉神怡，入迷 | |
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sanest
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| adj.心智健全的( sane的最高级 )；神志正常的；明智的；稳健的 | |
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misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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fatuous
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| adj.愚昧的；昏庸的 | |
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153
jotted
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| v.匆忙记下( jot的过去式和过去分词 )；草草记下，匆匆记下 | |
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154
acting
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| n.演戏，行为，假装；adj.代理的，临时的，演出用的 | |
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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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trepidation
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| n.惊恐，惶恐 | |
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gad
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| n.闲逛；v.闲逛 | |
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158
stiffen
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| v.(使)硬，(使)变挺，(使)变僵硬 | |
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wrung
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| 绞( wring的过去式和过去分词 )； 握紧（尤指别人的手）； 把（湿衣服）拧干； 绞掉（水） | |
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inert
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| adj.无活动能力的，惰性的；迟钝的 | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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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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joyousness
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| 快乐，使人喜悦 | |
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solitude
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| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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regain
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| vt.重新获得，收复，恢复 | |
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futile
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| adj.无效的，无用的，无希望的 | |
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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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constraint
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| n.(on)约束，限制；限制(或约束)性的事物 | |
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169
enveloped
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| v.包围，笼罩，包住( envelop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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170
chiding
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| v.责骂，责备( chide的现在分词 ) | |
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171
embarrassment
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| n.尴尬；使人为难的人(事物)；障碍；窘迫 | |
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172
vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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173
fathom
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| v.领悟，彻底了解 | |
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174
throbbing
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| a. 跳动的,悸动的 | |
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175
misty
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| adj.雾蒙蒙的，有雾的 | |
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176
caress
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| vt./n.爱抚，抚摸 | |
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177
hoarsely
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| adv.嘶哑地 | |
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178
dealing
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| n.经商方法，待人态度 | |
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179
paralysis
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| n.麻痹(症)；瘫痪(症) | |
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