He had also retained through all his struggles a measure of his pride, and because of it strode up and down buffeted7 by the blasts until a beat of horsehoofs came out of the darkness and was followed by a rattle9 of wheels. It grew steadily10 louder, a blinking ray of brightness flickered11 across the frame houses, and presently dark figures were silhouetted12 against the light on the hotel veranda13 as a lurching wagon14 drew up beneath it. Two dusky objects, shapeless in their furs, sprang down, and one stumbled into the post office close by with a bag, while the other man answered the questions hurled15 at him as he fumbled16 with stiffened17 fingers at the harness.
"Late? Well, you might be thankful you've got your mail at all," he said. "We had to go round by Willow18 Bluff19, and didn't think we'd get through the ford20. Ice an inch thick, any way, and Charley talked that much he's not said anything since, even when the near horse put his foot into a badger21 hole."
Rude banter22 followed this, but Winston took no part in it. Hastening into the post office, he stood betraying his impatience23 by his very impassiveness while a sallow-faced woman tossed the letters out upon the counter. At last she took up two of them, and the man's fingers trembled a little as he stretched out his hand when she said:
"That's all there are for you."
Winston recognized the writing on the envelopes, and it was with difficulty he held his eagerness in check, but other men were waiting for his place, and he went out and crossed the street to the hotel where there was light to read by. As he entered it a girl bustling24 about a long table in the big stove-warmed room turned with la little smile.
"It's only you!" she said. "Now I was figuring it was Lance Courthorne."
Winston, impatient as he was, stopped and laughed, for the hotel-keeper's daughter was tolerably well-favored and a friend of his.
"And you're disappointed?" he said. "I haven't Lance's good looks, or his ready tongue."
The room was empty, for the guests were thronging25 about the post office then, and the girl's eyes twinkled as she drew back a pace and surveyed the man. There was nothing in his appearance that would have aroused a stranger's interest, or attracted more than a passing glance, as he stood before her in a very old fur coat, with a fur cap that was in keeping with it held in his hand.
His face had been bronzed almost to the color of a Blackfeet Indian's by frost and wind and sun, but it was of English type from the crisp fair hair above the broad forehead to the somewhat solid chin. The mouth was hidden by the bronze-tinted mustache, and the eyes alone were noticeable. They were gray, and there was a steadiness in them which was almost unusual even in that country where men look into long distances. For the rest, he was of average stature26, and stood impassively straight, looking down upon the girl, without either grace or awkwardness, while his hard brown hands suggested, as his attire27 did, strenuous28 labor29 for a very small reward.
"Well," said the girl, with Western frankness, "there's a kind of stamp on Lance that you haven't got. I figure he brought it with him from the old country. Still, one might take you for him if you stood with the light behind you, and you're not quite a bad-looking man. It's a kind of pity you're so solemn."
Winston smiled. "I don't fancy that's astonishing after losing two harvests in succession," he said. "You see there's nobody back there in the old country to send remittances30 to me."
The girl nodded with quick sympathy. "Oh, yes. The times are bad," she said. "Well, you read your letters, I'm not going to worry you."
Winston sat down and opened the first envelope under the big lamp. It was from a land agent and mortgage broker31, and his face grew a trifle grimmer as he read, "In the present condition of the money market your request that we should carry you over is unreasonable32, and we regret that unless you can extinguish at least half the loan we will be compelled to foreclose upon your holding."
There was a little more of it, but that was sufficient for Winston, who knew it meant disaster, and it was with the feeling of one clinging desperately33 to the last shred34 of hope he tore open the second envelope. The letter it held was from a friend he had made in a Western city, and once entertained for a month at his ranch1, but the man had evidently sufficient difficulties of his own to contend with.
"Very sorry, but it can't be done," he wrote. "I'm loaded up with wheat nobody will buy, and couldn't raise five hundred dollars to lend any one just now."
Winston sighed a little, but when he rose and slowly straightened himself nobody would have suspected he was looking ruin in the face. He had fought a slow losing battle for six weary years, holding on doggedly35 though defeat appeared inevitable36, and now when it had come he bore it impassively, for the struggle which, though he was scarcely twenty-six, had crushed all mirth and brightness out of his life, had given him endurance in place of them. Just then a man came bustling towards him, with the girl, who bore a tray, close behind.
"What are you doing with that coat on?" he said. "Get it off and sit down right there. The boys are about through with the mail and supper's ready."
Winston glanced at the steaming dishes hungrily, for he had passed most of the day in the bitter frost, eating very little, and there was still a drive of twenty miles before him.
"It is time I was taking the trail," he said.
He was sensible of a pain in his left side, which, as other men have discovered, not infrequently follows enforced abstinence from food, but he remembered what he wanted the half-dollar in his pocket for. The hotel-keeper had possibly some notion of the state of affairs, for he laughed a little.
"You've got to sit down," he said. "Now, after the way you fixed37 me up when I stopped at your ranch, you don't figure I'd let you go before you had some supper with me?"
Winston may have been unduly38 sensitive, but he shook his head. "You're very good, but it's a long ride, and I'm going now," he said. "Good-night, Nettie."
He turned as he spoke39, with the swift decision that was habitual40 with him, and when he went out the girl glanced at her father reproachfully.
"You always get spoiling things when you put your hand in," she said. "Now that man's hungry, and I'd have fixed it so he'd have got his supper if you had left it to me."
The hotel-keeper laughed a little. "I'm kind of sorry for Winston because there's grit41 in him, and he's never had a show," he said. "Still, I figure he's not worth your going out gunning after, Nettie."
The girl said nothing, but there was a little flush in her face which had not been there before, when she busied herself with the dishes.
In the meanwhile Winston was harnessing two bronco horses to a very dilapidated wagon. They were vicious beasts, but he had bought them cheap from a man who had some difficulty in driving them, while the wagon had been given him, when it was apparently43 useless, by a neighbor. The team had, however, already covered thirty miles that day, and started homewards at a steady trot44 without the playful kicking they usually indulged in. Here and there a man sprang clear of the rutted road, but Winston did not notice him or return his greeting. He was abstractedly watching the rude frame houses flit by, and wondering, while the pain in his side grew keener, when he would get his supper, for it happens not infrequently that the susceptibilities are dulled by a heavy blow, and the victim finds a distraction45 that is almost welcome in the endurance of a petty trouble.
Winston was very hungry, and weary alike in body and mind. The sun had not risen when he left his homestead, and he had passed the day under a nervous strain, hoping, although it seemed improbable, that the mail would bring him relief from his anxieties. Now he knew the worst, he could bear it as he had borne the loss of two harvests, and the disaster which followed in the wake of the blizzard46 that killed off his stock; but it seemed unfair that he should endure cold and hunger too, and when one wheel sank into a rut and the jolt47 shook him in every stiffened limb, he broke out with a hoarse48 expletive. It was his first protest against the fate that was too strong for him, and almost as he made it he laughed.
"Pshaw! There's no use kicking against what has to be, and I've got to keep my head just now," he said.
There was no great comfort in the reflection, but it had sustained him before, and Winston's head was a somewhat exceptional one, though there was as a rule nothing in any way remarkable49 about his conversation, and he was apparently merely one of the many quietly-spoken, bronze-faced men who are even by their blunders building up a great future for the Canadian dominion50. He accordingly drew his old rug tighter round him, and instinctively51 pulled his fur cap lower down when the lights of the settlement faded behind him and the creaking wagon swung out into the blackness of the prairie. It ran back league beyond league across three broad provinces, and the wind that came up out of the great emptiness emphasized its solitude52. A man from the cities would have heard nothing but the creaking of the wagon and the drumming fall of hoofs8, but Winston heard the grasses patter as they swayed beneath the bitter blasts stiff with frost, and the moan of swinging boughs53 in a far-off willow bluff. It was these things that guided him, for he had left the rutted trail, and here and there the swish beneath the wheels told of taller grass, while the bluff ran black athwart the horizon when that had gone. Then twigs54 crackled beneath them as the horses picked their way amidst the shadowy trees stunted55 by a ceaseless struggle with the wind, and Winston shook the creeping drowsiness56 from him when they came out into the open again, for he knew it is not advisable for any man with work still to do to fall asleep under the frost of that country.
Still, he grew a trifle dazed as the miles went by, and because of it indulged in memories he had shaken oft at other times. They were blurred57 recollections of the land he had left eight years ago, pictures of sheltered England, half-forgotten music, the voices of friends who no longer remembered him, and the smiles in a girl's bright eyes. Then he settled himself more firmly in the driving seat, and with numbed58 fingers sought a tighter grip of the reins59 as the memory of the girl's soft answer to a question he had asked brought his callow ambitions back.
He was to hew60 his way to fortune in the West, and then come back for her, but the girl who had clung to him with wet cheeks when he left her had apparently grown tired of waiting, and Winston sent back her letters in return for a silver-printed card. That was six years ago, and now none of the dollars he had brought into the country remained to him. He realized, dispassionately and without egotism, that this was through no fault of his, for he knew that better men had been crushed and beaten.
It was, however, time he had done with these reflections, for while he sat half-dazed and more than half-frozen the miles had been flitting by, and now the team knew they were not very far from home. Little by little their pace increased, and Winston was almost astonished to see another bluff black against the night ahead of him. As usual in that country, the willows61 and birches crawled up the sides and just showed their heads above the sinuous62 crest63 of a river hollow. It was very dark when the wagon lurched in among them, and it cost the man an effort to discern the winding64 trail which led down into the blackness of the hollow. In places the slope was almost precipitous, and it behooved65 him to be careful of the horses, which could not be replaced. Without them he could not plow5 in spring, and his life did not appear of any especial value in comparison with theirs just then.
The team, however, were evidently bent66 on getting home as soon as possible, and Winston's fingers were too stiff to effectively grasp the reins. A swinging bough42 also struck one of the horses, and when it plunged67 and flung up its head the man reeled a little in his seat. Before he recovered the team were going down-hill at a gallop68. Winston flung himself bodily backwards69 with tense muscles and the reins slipping a trifle in his hands, knowing that though he bore against them with all his strength the team were leaving the trail. Then the wagon jolted70 against a tree, one horse stumbled, picked up its stride, and went on at a headlong gallop. The man felt the wind rush past him and saw the dim trees whirl by, but he could only hold on and wonder what would take place when they came to the bottom. The bridge the trail went round by was some distance to his right, and because the frost had just set in he knew the ice on the river would not bear the load even if the horses could keep their footing.
He had not, however, long to wonder. Once more a horse stumbled, there was a crash, and a branch hurled Winston backwards into the wagon, which came to a standstill suddenly. When he rose something warm was running down his face, and there was a red smear71 on the hand he lighted the lantern with. When that was done he flung himself down from the wagon dreading72 what he would find. The flickering73 radiance showed him that the pole had snapped, and while one bronco still stood trembling on its feet the other lay inert74 amidst a tangle75 of harness. The man's face grew a trifle grimmer as he threw the light upon it, and then stooping glanced at one doubled leg. It was evident that fate which did nothing by halves had dealt him a crushing blow. The last faint hope he clung to had vanished now.
He was, however, a humane76 man, and considerate of the beasts that worked for him, and accordingly thrust his hand inside the old fur coat when he had loosed the uninjured horse, and drew out a long-bladed knife. Then he knelt, and setting down the lantern, felt for the place to strike. When he found it his courage almost deserted77 him, and meeting the eyes that seemed to look up at him with dumb appeal, turned his head away. Still, he was a man who would not shirk a painful duty, and shaking off the sense of revulsion turned again and stroked the beast's head.
"It's all I can do for you," he said.
Then his arm came down and a tremor78 ran through the quivering frame, while Winston set his lips tightly as his hand grew warm. The thing was horrible to him, but the life he led had taught him the folly79 of weakness, and he was too pitiful to let his squeamishness overcome him.
Still, he shivered when it was done, and rubbing the knife in the withered80 leaves, rose, and made shift to gird a rug about the uninjured horse. Then he cut the reins and tied them, and mounting without stirrups rode towards the bridge. The horse went quietly enough now, and the man allowed it to choose its way. He was going home to find shelter from the cold, because his animal instincts prompted him, but otherwise almost without volition81, in a state of dispassionate indifference82. Nothing more, he fancied, could well befall him.
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1
ranch
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| n.大牧场，大农场 | |
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2
murky
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| adj.黑暗的，朦胧的；adv.阴暗地，混浊地；n.阴暗；昏暗 | |
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tattered
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| adj.破旧的，衣衫破的 | |
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plowed
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| v.耕( plow的过去式和过去分词 )；犁耕；费力穿过 | |
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plow
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| n.犁，耕地，犁过的地；v.犁，费力地前进[英]plough | |
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snug
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| adj.温暖舒适的，合身的，安全的；v.使整洁干净，舒适地依靠，紧贴；n.（英）酒吧里的私房 | |
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buffeted
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| 反复敲打( buffet的过去式和过去分词 )； 连续猛击； 打来打去； 推来搡去 | |
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hoofs
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| n.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的名词复数 )v.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的第三人称单数 ) | |
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9
rattle
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| v.飞奔，碰响；激怒；n.碰撞声；拨浪鼓 | |
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steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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flickered
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| （通常指灯光）闪烁，摇曳( flicker的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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silhouetted
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| 显出轮廓的，显示影像的 | |
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veranda
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| n.走廊；阳台 | |
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wagon
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| n.四轮马车，手推车，面包车；无盖运货列车 | |
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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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fumbled
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| （笨拙地）摸索或处理（某事物）( fumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 乱摸，笨拙地弄； 使落下 | |
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stiffened
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| 加强的 | |
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willow
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| n.柳树 | |
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bluff
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| v.虚张声势，用假象骗人；n.虚张声势，欺骗 | |
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Ford
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| n.浅滩，水浅可涉处；v.涉水，涉过 | |
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badger
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| v.一再烦扰，一再要求，纠缠 | |
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banter
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| n.嘲弄，戏谑；v.取笑，逗弄，开玩笑 | |
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impatience
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| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
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bustling
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| adj.喧闹的 | |
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thronging
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| v.成群，挤满( throng的现在分词 ) | |
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stature
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| n.（高度）水平，（高度）境界，身高，身材 | |
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attire
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| v.穿衣，装扮[同]array；n.衣着；盛装 | |
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strenuous
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| adj.奋发的，使劲的；紧张的；热烈的，狂热的 | |
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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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remittances
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| n.汇寄( remittance的名词复数 )；汇款，汇款额 | |
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broker
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| n.中间人，经纪人；v.作为中间人来安排 | |
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unreasonable
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| adj.不讲道理的，不合情理的，过度的 | |
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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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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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doggedly
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| adv.顽强地，固执地 | |
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inevitable
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| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
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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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unduly
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| adv.过度地，不适当地 | |
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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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habitual
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| adj.习惯性的；通常的，惯常的 | |
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grit
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| n.沙粒，决心，勇气；v.下定决心，咬紧牙关 | |
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42
bough
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| n.大树枝，主枝 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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44
trot
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| n.疾走，慢跑；n.老太婆；现成译本；(复数）trots:腹泻（与the 连用）；v.小跑，快步走，赶紧 | |
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45
distraction
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| n.精神涣散，精神不集中，消遣，娱乐 | |
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blizzard
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| n.暴风雪 | |
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jolt
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| v.（使）摇动，（使）震动，（使）颠簸 | |
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48
hoarse
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| adj.嘶哑的，沙哑的 | |
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49
remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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50
dominion
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| n.统治，管辖，支配权；领土，版图 | |
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51
instinctively
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| adv.本能地 | |
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52
solitude
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| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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53
boughs
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| 大树枝( bough的名词复数 ) | |
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54
twigs
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| 细枝，嫩枝( twig的名词复数 ) | |
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55
stunted
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| adj.矮小的；发育迟缓的 | |
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56
drowsiness
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| n.睡意；嗜睡 | |
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57
blurred
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| v.（使）变模糊( blur的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）难以区分；模模糊糊；迷离 | |
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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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reins
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| 感情，激情； 缰( rein的名词复数 )； 控制手段； 掌管； （成人带着幼儿走路以防其走失时用的）保护带 | |
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hew
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| v.砍；伐；削 | |
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willows
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| n.柳树( willow的名词复数 )；柳木 | |
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sinuous
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| adj.蜿蜒的，迂回的 | |
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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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winding
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| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
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behooved
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| v.适宜( behoove的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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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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plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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gallop
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| v./n.(马或骑马等)飞奔；飞速发展 | |
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69
backwards
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| adv.往回地，向原处，倒，相反，前后倒置地 | |
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70
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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71
smear
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| v.涂抹；诽谤，玷污；n.污点；诽谤，污蔑 | |
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72
dreading
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| v.害怕，恐惧，担心( dread的现在分词 ) | |
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73
flickering
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| adj.闪烁的，摇曳的，一闪一闪的 | |
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74
inert
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| adj.无活动能力的，惰性的；迟钝的 | |
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75
tangle
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| n.纠缠；缠结；混乱；v.(使)缠绕；变乱 | |
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76
humane
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| adj.人道的，富有同情心的 | |
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77
deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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78
tremor
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| n.震动，颤动，战栗，兴奋，地震 | |
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79
folly
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| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
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80
withered
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| adj. 枯萎的，干瘪的，（人身体的部分器官）因病萎缩的或未发育良好的 动词wither的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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81
volition
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| n.意志；决意 | |
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82
indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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