It was joyous2, free, terrible in its force—that wish to slay3. The emotion had grown, held back by the very force of a mental thread of reason, until, at the very moment when the thread was about to fray4 and snap, and he would be flung into sudden action, the booming voice of Joe Pollard had cleared his mind as an acid clears a cloudy precipitate5. He saw himself for the first time in several moments, and what he saw made him shudder6.
And still in fear of himself he swung El Sangre and put him down the slope recklessly. Never in his life had he ridden as he rode in those first five minutes down the pitch of the hill. He gave El Sangre his head to pick his own way, and he confined his efforts to urging the great stallion along. The blood-bay went like the wind, passing up-jutting boulders7 with a swish of gravel8 knocked from his plunging9 hoofs10 against the rock.
Even in Terry's passion of self-dread he dimly appreciated the prowess of the horse, and when they shot onto the level going of the valley road, he called El Sangre out of the mad gallop11 and back to the natural pace, a gait as swinging and smooth as running water—yet still the road poured beneath them at the speed of an ordinary gallop. It was music to Terry Hollis, that matchless gait. He leaned and murmured to the pricking12 ears with that soft, gentle voice which horses love. The glorious head of El Sangre went up a little, his tail flaunted13 somewhat more proudly; from the quiver of his nostrils14 to the ringing beat of his black hoofs he bespoke15 his confidence that he bore the king of men on his back.
And the pride of the great horse brought back some of Terry's own waning16 self-confidence. His father had been up in him as he faced Slim Dugan, he knew. Once more he had escaped from the commission of a crime. But for how long would he succeed in dodging17 that imp1 of the perverse18 which haunted him?
It was like the temptation of a drug—to strike just once, and thereafter to be raised above himself, take to himself the power of evil which is greater than the power of good. The blow he struck at the sheriff had merely served to launch him on his way. To strike down was not now what he wanted, but to kill! To feel that once he had accomplished19 the destiny of some strong man, to turn a creature of mind and soul, ambition and hope, at a single stroke into so many pounds of flesh, useless, done for. What could be more glorious? What could be more terrible? And the desire to strike, as he had looked into the sneering20 face of Slim Dugan, had been almost overmastering.
Sooner or later he would strike that blow. Sooner or later he would commit the great and controlling crime. And the rest of his life would be a continual evasion21 of the law.
If they would only take him into their midst, the good and the law- abiding22 men of the mountains! If they would only accept him by word or deed and give him a chance to prove that he was honest! Even then the battle would be hard, against temptation; but they were too smugly sure that his downfall was certain. Twice they had rejected him without cause. How long would it be before they actually raised their hands against him? How long would it be before they violently put him in the class of his father?
Grinding his teeth, he swore that if that time ever came when they took his destiny into their own hands, he would make it a day to be marked in red all through the mountains!
The cool, fresh wind against his face blew the sullen23 anger away. And when he came close to the town, he was his old self.
A man on a tall gray, with the legs of speed and plenty of girth at the cinches, where girth means lung power, twisted out of a side trail and swung past El Sangre at a fast gallop. The blood-bay snorted and came hard against the bit in a desire to follow. On the range, when he led his wild band, no horse had ever passed El Sangre and hardly the voice of the master could keep him back now. Terry loosed him. He did not break into a gallop, but fled down the road like an arrow, and the gray came back to him slowly and surely until the rider twisted around and swore in surprise.
He touched his mount with the spurs; there was a fresh start from the gray, a lunge that kicked a little spurt24 of dust into the nostrils of El Sangre. He snorted it out. Terry released his head completely, and now, as though in scorn refusing to break into his sweeping25 gallop, El Sangre flung himself ahead to the full of his natural pace.
And the gray came back steadily26. The town was shoving up at them at the end of the road more and more clearly. The rider of the gray began to curse. He was leaning forward, jockeying his horse, but still El Sangre hurled27 himself forward powerfully, smoothly28. They passed the first shanty29 on the outskirts30 of the town with the red head of the stallion at the hip31 of the other. Before they straightened into the main street, El Sangre had shoved his nose past the outstretched head of the gray. Then the other rider jerked back on his reins32 with a resounding33 oath. Terry imitated; one call to El Sangre brought him back to a gentle amble34.
"Going to sell this damned skate," declared the stranger, a lean-faced man of middle age with big, patient, kindly35 eyes. "If he can't make another hoss break out of a pace, he ain't worth keeping! But I'll tell a man that you got quite a hoss there, partner!"
"Not bad," admitted Terry modestly. "And the gray has pretty good points, it seems to me."
They drew the horses back to a walk.
"Ought to have. Been breeding for him fifteen years—and here I get him beat by a hoss that don't break out of a pace."
He swore again, but less violently and with less disappointment. He was beginning to run his eyes appreciatively over the superb lines of El Sangre. There were horses and horses, and he began to see that this was one in a thousand—or more.
"What's the strain in that stallion?" he asked.
"Mustang," answered Terry.
"Mustang? Man, man, he's close to sixteen hands!"
"Nearer fifteen three. Yes, he stands pretty high. Might call him a freak mustang, I guess. He reverts36 to the old source stock."
"I've heard something about that," nodded the other. "Once in a generation they say a mustang turns up somewhere on the range that breeds back to the old Arab. And that red hoss is sure one of 'em."
They dismounted at the hotel, the common hitching37 rack for the town, and the elder man held out his hand.
"Terry'll do for me, Mr. Baldwin. Glad to know you."
Baldwin considered his companion with a slight narrowing of the eyes. Distinctly this "Terry" was not the type to be wandering about the country known by his first name alone. There were reasons and reasons why men chose to conceal39 their family names in the mountains, however, and not all of them were bad. He decided40 to reserve judgment41. Particularly since he noted42 a touch of similarity between the high head and the glorious lines of El Sangre and the young pride and strength of Terry himself. There was something reassuringly43 clean and frank about both horse and rider, and it pleased Baldwin.
They made their purchases together in the store.
"Where might you be working?" asked Baldwin.
"For Joe Pollard."
"Cutting wood, just now."
Baldwin shook his head.
"How Pollard uses so much help is more'n I can see. He's got a range back of the hills, I know, and some cattle on it; but he's sure a waster of good labor45. Take me, now. I need a hand right bad to help me with the cows."
"I'm more or less under contract with Pollard," said Terry. He added:
"You talk as if Pollard might be a queer sort."
"Ain't you noticed anything queer up there? No? Well, maybe Pollard is all right. He's sort of a newcomer around here. That big house of his ain't more'n four or five years old. But most usually a man buys land and cattle around here before he builds him a big house. Well—Pollard is an open-handed cuss, I'll say that for him, and maybe they ain't anything in the talk that goes around."
What that talk was Terry attempted to discover, but he could not. Jack
Baldwin was a cautious gossip.
Since they had finished buying, the storekeeper perched on the edge of his selling counter and began to pass the time of the day. It began with the usual preliminaries, invariable in the mountains.
"What's the news out your way?"
"Nothing much to talk about. How's things with you and your family?"
"Fair to middlin' and better. Patty had the croup and we sat up two nights firing up the croup kettle. Now he's better, but he still coughs terrible bad."
And so on until all family affairs had been exhausted47. This is a formality. One must not rush to the heart of his news or he will mortally offend the sensitive Westerner.
This is the approved method. The storekeeper exemplified it, and having talked about nothing for ten minutes, quietly remarked that young Larrimer was out hunting a scalp, had been drinking most of the morning, and was now about the town boasting of what he intended to do.
"And what's more, he's apt to do it."
"Larrimer is a no-good young skunk," said Baldwin, with deliberate heat. "It's sure a crime when a boy that ain't got enough brains to fill a peanut shell can run over men just because he's spent his life learning how to handle firearms. He'll meet up with his finish one of these days."
"Maybe he will, maybe he won't," said the storekeeper, and spat48 with precision and remarkable49 power through the window beside him. "That's what they been saying for the last two years. Dawson come right down here to get him; but it was Dawson that was got. And Kennedy was called a good man with a gun—but Larrimer beat him to the draw and filled him plumb50 full of lead."
"I know," growled51 Baldwin. "Kept on shooting after Kennedy was down and had the gun shot out of his hand and was helpless. And yet they call that self-defense."
"We can't afford to be too particular about shootings," said the storekeeper. "Speaking personal, I figure that a shooting now and then lets the blood of the youngsters and gives 'em a new start. Kind of like to see it."
"But who's Larrimer after now?"
"A wild-goose chase, most likely. He says he's heard that the son of old Black Jack is around these parts, and that he's going to bury the outlaw's son after he's salted him away with lead."
"Black Jack's son! Is he around town?"
The tone sent a chill through Terry; it contained a breathless horror from which there was no appeal. In the eye of Jack Baldwin, fair-minded man though he was, Black Jack's son was judged and condemned52 as worthless before his case had been heard.
"I dunno," said the storekeeper; "but if Larrimer put one of Black Jack's breed under the ground, I'd call him some use to the town."
"There's Larrimer now, and he looks all fired up."
Terry turned and saw a tall fellow standing54 in the doorway55. He had been prepared for a youth; he saw before him a hardened man of thirty and more, gaunt-faced, bristling56 with the rough beard of some five or six days' growth, a thin, cruel, hawklike57 face.
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1
imp
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| n.顽童 | |
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joyous
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| adj.充满快乐的；令人高兴的 | |
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slay
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| v.杀死，宰杀，杀戮 | |
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fray
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| v.争吵；打斗；磨损，磨破；n.吵架；打斗 | |
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precipitate
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| adj.突如其来的；vt.使突然发生；n.沉淀物 | |
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shudder
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| v.战粟，震动，剧烈地摇晃；n.战粟，抖动 | |
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7
boulders
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| n.卵石( boulder的名词复数 )；巨砾；（受水或天气侵蚀而成的）巨石；漂砾 | |
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gravel
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| n.砂跞；砂砾层；结石 | |
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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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10
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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11
gallop
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| v./n.(马或骑马等)飞奔；飞速发展 | |
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12
pricking
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| 刺，刺痕，刺痛感 | |
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13
flaunted
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| v.炫耀，夸耀( flaunt的过去式和过去分词 )；有什么能耐就施展出来 | |
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nostrils
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| 鼻孔( nostril的名词复数 ) | |
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15
bespoke
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| adj.（产品）订做的；专做订货的v.预定( bespeak的过去式 )；订（货）；证明；预先请求 | |
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16
waning
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| adj.（月亮）渐亏的，逐渐减弱或变小的n.月亏v.衰落( wane的现在分词 )；（月）亏；变小；变暗淡 | |
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17
dodging
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| n.避开，闪过，音调改变v.闪躲( dodge的现在分词 )；回避 | |
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perverse
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| adj.刚愎的；坚持错误的，行为反常的 | |
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accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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sneering
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| 嘲笑的，轻蔑的 | |
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evasion
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| n.逃避，偷漏(税) | |
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22
abiding
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| adj.永久的，持久的，不变的 | |
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sullen
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| adj.愠怒的，闷闷不乐的，(天气等)阴沉的 | |
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spurt
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| v.喷出；突然进发；突然兴隆 | |
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sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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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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smoothly
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| adv.平滑地，顺利地，流利地，流畅地 | |
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shanty
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| n.小屋，棚屋；船工号子 | |
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outskirts
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| n.郊外，郊区 | |
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hip
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| n.臀部，髋；屋脊 | |
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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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resounding
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| adj. 响亮的 | |
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amble
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| vi.缓行，漫步 | |
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kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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reverts
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| 恢复( revert的第三人称单数 )； 重提； 回到…上； 归还 | |
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37
hitching
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| 搭乘； （免费）搭乘他人之车( hitch的现在分词 )； 搭便车； 攀上； 跃上 | |
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38
jack
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| n.插座，千斤顶，男人；v.抬起，提醒，扛举；n.（Jake）杰克 | |
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39
conceal
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
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40
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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41
judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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42
noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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reassuringly
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| ad.安心，可靠 | |
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44
eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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45
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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46
disarmed
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| v.裁军( disarm的过去式和过去分词 )；使息怒 | |
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exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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48
spat
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| n.口角，掌击；v.发出呼噜呼噜声 | |
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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
plumb
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| adv.精确地，完全地；v.了解意义，测水深 | |
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51
growled
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| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的过去式和过去分词 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
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52
condemned
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| adj. 被责难的, 被宣告有罪的 动词condemn的过去式和过去分词 | |
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53
fervently
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| adv.热烈地，热情地，强烈地 | |
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54
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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55
doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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56
bristling
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| a.竖立的 | |
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57
hawklike
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