The young fellow who said this stood upon the highest point of the Ridge1 Road, where the land sloped abruptly2 to the valley in which lay the small municipality of Crawberry on the one hand, while on the other open fields and patches of woodland, in a huge green-and-brown checkerboard pattern, fell more easily to the bank of the distant river.
Dotted here and there about the farming country lying before the youth as he looked westward3 were cottages, or the more important-looking homesteads on the larger farms; and in the distance a white church spire5 behind the trees marked the tiny settlement of Blaine's Smithy.
A Sabbath calm lay over the fields and woods. It was mid-afternoon of an early February Sunday—the time of the mid-winter thaw6, that false prophet of the real springtime.
Although not a furrow7 had been turned as yet in the fields, and the snow lay deep in some fence corners and beneath the hedges, there was, after all, a smell of fresh earth—a clean, live smell—that Hiram Strong had missed all week down in Crawberry.
“I'm glad I came up here,” he muttered, drawing in great breaths of the clean air. “Just to look at the open fields, without any brick and mortar8 around, makes a fellow feel fine!”
He stretched his arms above his head and, standing9 alone there on the upland, felt bigger and better than he had in weeks.
For Hiram Strong was a country boy, born and bred, and the town stifled10 him. Besides, he had begun to see that his two years in Crawberry had been wasted.
“As a hustler after fortune in the city I am not a howling success,” mused11 Hiram. “Somehow, I'm cramped12 down yonder,” and he glanced back at the squalid brick houses below him, the smoky roofs, and the ugly factory chimneys.
“And I declare,” he pursued, reflectively, “I don't believe I can stand Old Dan Dwight much longer. Dan, Junior, is bad enough—when he is around the store; but the boss would drive a fellow to death.”
He shook his head, now turning from the pleasanter prospect13 of the farming land and staring down into the town.
“Maybe I'm not a success because I don't stick to one thing. I've had six jobs in less'n two years. That's a bad record for a boy, I believe. But there hasn't any of them suited me, nor have I suited them.
“And Dwight's Emporium beats 'em all!” finished Hiram, shaking his head.
He turned his back upon the town once more, as though to wipe his failure out of his memory. Before him sloped a field of wheat and clover.
It had kept as green under the snow as though winter was an unknown season. Every cloverleaf sparkled and the leaves of wheat bristled14 like tiny spears.
Spring was on the way. He could hear the call of it!
Two years before Hiram had left the farm. He had no immediate15 relatives after his father died. The latter had been a tenant-farmer only, and when his tools and stock and the few household chattels16 had been sold to pay the debts that had accumulated during his last illness, there was very little money left for Hiram.
There was nobody to say him nay17 when he packed his bag and started for Crawberry, which was the metropolis18 of his part of the country. He had set out boldly, believing that he could get ahead faster, and become master of his own fortune more quickly in town than in the locality where he was born.
He was a rugged19, well-set-up youth of seventeen, not over-tall, but sturdy and able to do a man's work. Indeed, he had long done a man's work before he left the farm.
Hiram's hands were calloused20, he shuffled21 a bit when walked, and his shoulders were just a little bowed from holding the plow23 handles since he had been big enough to bridle24 his father's old mare25.
Yes, the work on the farm had been hard—especially for a growing boy. Many farm boys work under better conditions than Hiram had.
Nevertheless, after a two years' trial of what the city has in store for most country boys who cut loose from their old environment, Hiram Strong felt to-day as though he must get back to the land.
“There's nothing for me in town. Clerking in Dwight's Emporium will never get me anywhere,” he thought, turning finally away from the open country and starting down the steep hill.
“Why, there are college boys working on our street cars here—waiting for some better job to turn up. What chance does a fellow stand who's only got a country school education?
“And there isn't any clean fun for a fellow in Crawberry—fun that doesn't cost money. And goodness knows I can't make more than enough to pay Mrs. Atterson, and for my laundry, and buy a new suit of overalls26 and a pair of shoes occasionally.
“No, sir!” concluded Hiram. “There's nothing in it. Not for a fellow like me, at any rate. I'd better be back on the farm—and I wish I was there now.”
He had been to church that morning; but after the late dinner at his boarding house had set out on this lonely walk. Now he had nothing to look forward to as he returned but the stuffy27 parlor28 of Mrs. Atterson's boarding house, the cold supper in the dining-room, which was attended in a desultory29 fashion by such of the boarders as were at home, and then a long, dull evening in his room, or bed after attending the evening service at the church around the corner.
Hiram even shrank from meeting the same faces at the boarding house table, hearing the same stale jokes or caustic30 remarks about Mrs. Atterson's food from Fred Crackit and the young men boarders of his class, or the grumbling31 of Mr. Peebles, the dyspeptic invalid32, or the inane33 monologue34 of Old Lem Camp.
And Mrs. Atterson herself—good soul though she was—had gotten on Hiram Strong's nerves, too. With her heat-blistered face, near-sighted eyes peering through beclouded spectacles, and her gown buttoned up hurriedly and with a gap here and there where a button was missing, she was the typically frowsy, hurried, nagged-to-death boarding house mistress.
And as for “Sister,” Mrs. Atterson's little slavey and maid-of-all-work——
“Well, Sister's the limit!” smiled Hiram, as he turned into the street, with its rows of ugly brick houses on either hand. “I believe Fred Crackit has got it right. Mrs. Atterson keeps Sister instead of a cat—so there'll be something to kick.”
The half-grown girl—narrow-chested, round shouldered, and sallow—had been taken by Mrs. Atterson from some charity institution. “Sister,” as the boarders all called her, for lack of any other cognomen35, would have her yellow hair in four attenuated36 pigtails hanging down her back, and she would shuffle22 about the dining-room in a pair of Mrs. Atterson's old shoes——
“By Jove! there she is now,” exclaimed the startled youth.
At the corner of the street several “slices” of the brick block had been torn away and the lot cleared for the erection of some business building. Running across this open space with wild shrieks37 and spilling the milk from the big pitcher38 she carried—milk for the boarders' tea, Hi knew—came Mrs. Atterson's maid.
Behind her, and driving her like a horse by the ever present “pigtails,” bounded a boy of about her own age—a laughing, yelling imp4 of a boy whom Hiram knew very well.
“That Dan Dwight is the meanest little scamp at this end of the town!” he said to himself.
The noise the two made attracted only the idle curiosity of a few people. It was a locality where, even on Sundays, there was more or less noise.
Sister begged and screamed. She feared she would spill the milk and told Dan, Junior, so. But he only drove her the harder, yelling to her to “Get up!” and yanking as hard as he could on the braids.
“Here! that's enough of that!” called Hiram, stepping quickly toward the two.
“Be off with you!” commanded Hiram. “You've plagued the girl enough.”
“Mind your business, Hi-ram-Lo-ram!” returned Dan, Junior, grabbing at Sister's hair again.
Hiram caught the younger boy by the shoulder and whirled him around.
“You run along to Mrs. Atterson, Sister,” he said, quietly. “No, you don't!” he added, gripping Dan, Junior, more firmly. “You'll stop right here.”
“Lemme be, Hi Strong!” bawled40 the other, when he found he could not easily jerk away. “It'll be the worse for you if you don't.”
“Just you wait until the girl is home,” returned Hiram, laughing. It was an easy matter for him to hold the writhing41 Dan, Junior.
“I'll fix you for this!” squalled the boy. “Wait till I tell my father.”
“You wouldn't dare tell your father the truth,” laughed Hi.
“I'll fix you,” repeated Dan, Junior, and suddenly aimed a vicious kick at his captor.
Had the kick landed where Dan, Junior, intended—under Hi's kneecap—the latter certainly would have been “fixed.” But the country youth was too agile42 for him.
He jumped aside, dragged Dan, Junior, suddenly toward him, and then gave him a backward thrust which sent the lighter43 boy spinning.
Now, it had rained the day before and in a hollow beside the path was a puddle44 several inches deep. Dan, Junior, lost his balance, staggered back, tripped over his own clumsy heels, and splashed full length into it.
“Oh, oh!” he bawled, managing to get well soaked before he scrambled45 out. “I'll tell my father on you, Hi Strong. You'll catch it for this!”
“You'd better run home before you catch cold,” said Hiram, who could not help laughing at the young rascal's plight46. “And let girls alone another time.”
To himself he said: “Well, the goodness knows I couldn't be much more in bad odor with Mr. Dwight than I am already. But this escapade of his precious son ought to about 'fix' me, as Dan, Junior, says.
“Whether I want to, or not, I reckon I will be looking for another job in a very few days.”
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1
ridge
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| n.山脊；鼻梁；分水岭 | |
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abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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westward
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| n.西方，西部；adj.西方的，向西的；adv.向西 | |
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imp
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| n.顽童 | |
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spire
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| n.(教堂)尖顶，尖塔，高点 | |
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thaw
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| v.（使）融化，（使）变得友善；n.融化，缓和 | |
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7
furrow
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| n.沟；垄沟；轨迹；车辙；皱纹 | |
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mortar
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| n.灰浆，灰泥；迫击炮；v.把…用灰浆涂接合 | |
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9
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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stifled
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| （使）窒息， （使）窒闷( stifle的过去式和过去分词 )； 镇压，遏制； 堵 | |
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mused
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| v.沉思，冥想( muse的过去式和过去分词 )；沉思自语说（某事） | |
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cramped
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| a.狭窄的 | |
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prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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bristled
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| adj. 直立的，多刺毛的 动词bristle的过去式和过去分词 | |
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immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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chattels
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| n.动产，奴隶( chattel的名词复数 ) | |
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nay
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| adv.不；n.反对票，投反对票者 | |
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metropolis
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| n.首府；大城市 | |
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rugged
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| adj.高低不平的，粗糙的，粗壮的，强健的 | |
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calloused
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| adj.粗糙的，粗硬的，起老茧的v.（使）硬结，（使）起茧( callous的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）冷酷无情 | |
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shuffled
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| v.洗（纸牌）( shuffle的过去式和过去分词 )；拖着脚步走；粗心地做；摆脱尘世的烦恼 | |
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shuffle
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| n.拖著脚走，洗纸牌；v.拖曳，慢吞吞地走 | |
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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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bridle
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| n.笼头，束缚；vt.抑制，约束；动怒 | |
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mare
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| n.母马，母驴 | |
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overalls
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| n.（复）工装裤；长罩衣 | |
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stuffy
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| adj.不透气的，闷热的 | |
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parlor
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| n.店铺，营业室；会客室，客厅 | |
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29
desultory
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| adj.散漫的，无方法的 | |
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caustic
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| adj.刻薄的，腐蚀性的 | |
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grumbling
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| adj. 喃喃鸣不平的, 出怨言的 | |
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invalid
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| n.病人，伤残人；adj.有病的，伤残的；无效的 | |
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inane
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| adj.空虚的，愚蠢的，空洞的 | |
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monologue
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| n.长篇大论，（戏剧等中的）独白 | |
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cognomen
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| n.姓；绰号 | |
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attenuated
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| v.（使）变细( attenuate的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）变薄；（使）变小；减弱 | |
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shrieks
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| n.尖叫声( shriek的名词复数 )v.尖叫( shriek的第三人称单数 ) | |
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pitcher
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| n.(有嘴和柄的)大水罐；(棒球)投手 | |
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exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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40
bawled
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| v.大叫，大喊( bawl的过去式和过去分词 )；放声大哭；大声叫出；叫卖（货物） | |
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41
writhing
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| （因极度痛苦而）扭动或翻滚( writhe的现在分词 ) | |
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42
agile
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| adj.敏捷的，灵活的 | |
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43
lighter
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| n.打火机，点火器；驳船；v.用驳船运送；light的比较级 | |
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44
puddle
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| n.(雨)水坑，泥潭 | |
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45
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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46
plight
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| n.困境，境况，誓约，艰难；vt.宣誓，保证，约定 | |
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