"Vance."
"Yes."
She reached out her hand; his closed upon it, and their eyelids1 fluttered and drooped2 down. The river still rumbled3 en, somewhere in the infinite distance, but it came to them like the murmur4 of a world forgotten. A soft languor5 encompassed6 them. The golden sunshine dripped down upon them through the living green, and all the life of the warm earth seemed singing. And quiet was very good. Fifteen long minutes they drowsed, and woke again.
Frona sat up. "I—I was afraid," she said.
"Not you."
"Leave it down. The day merits it."
"Yes," she answered. "I rapped him on the knuckles11. It was terrible. But the chance is we've a better man in the canoe, and we must care for him at once. Hello! Look there!" Through the trees, not a score of feet away, she saw the wall of a large cabin. "Nobody in sight. It must be deserted12, or else they're visiting, whoever they are. You look to our man, Vance,—I'm more presentable,—and I'll go and see."
She skirted the cabin, which was a large one for the Yukon country, and came around to where it fronted on the river. The door stood open, and, as she paused to knock, the whole interior flashed upon her in an astounding13 picture,—a cumulative14 picture, or series of pictures, as it were. For first she was aware of a crowd of men, and of some great common purpose upon which all were seriously bent15. At her knock they instinctively16 divided, so that a lane opened up, flanked by their pressed bodies, to the far end of the room. And there, in the long bunks17 on either side, sat two grave rows of men. And midway between, against the wall, was a table. This table seemed the centre of interest. Fresh from the sun-dazzle, the light within was dim and murky18, but she managed to make out a bearded American sitting by the table and hammering it with a heavy caulking-mallet19. And on the opposite side sat St. Vincent. She had time to note his worn and haggard face, before a man of Scandinavian appearance slouched up to the table.
The man with the mallet raised his right hand and said glibly21, "You do most solemnly swear that what you are about to give before the court—" He abruptly22 stopped and glowered23 at the man before him. "Take off your hat!" he roared, and a snicker went up from the crowd as the man obeyed.
Then he of the mallet began again. "You do most solemnly swear that what you are about to give before the court shall be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?"
The Scandinavian nodded and dropped his hand.
"One moment, gentlemen." Frona advanced up the lane, which closed behind her.
St. Vincent sprang to his feet and stretched out his arms to her.
"Frona," he cried, "oh, Frona, I am innocent!"
It struck her like a blow, the unexpectedness of it, and for the instant, in the sickly light, she was conscious only of the ring of white faces, each face set with eyes that burned. Innocent of what? she thought, and as she looked at St. Vincent, arms still extended, she was aware, in a vague, troubled way, of something distasteful. Innocent of what? He might have had more reserve. He might have waited till he was charged. She did not know that he was charged with anything.
"Friend of the prisoner," the man with the mallet said authoritatively24.
"Bring a stool for'ard, some of you."
"One moment . . ." She staggered against the table and rested a hand on it. "I do not understand. This is all new . . ." But her eyes happened to come to rest on her feet, wrapped in dirty rags, and she knew that she was clad in a short and tattered25 skirt, that her arm peeped forth26 through a rent in her sleeve, and that her hair was down and flying. Her cheek and neck on one side seemed coated with some curious substance. She brushed it with her hand, and caked mud rattled27 to the floor.
"That will do," the man said, not unkindly. "Sit down. We're in the same box. We do not understand. But take my word for it, we're here to find out. So sit down."
She raised her hand. "One moment—"
"Sit down!" he thundered. "The court cannot be disturbed."
A hum went up from the crowd, words of dissent28, and the man pounded the table for silence. But Frona resolutely29 kept her feet.
Chairman: I take it that this is a miners' meeting." (The man nodded.)
"Then, having an equal voice in the managing of this community's
affairs, I demand to be heard. It is important that I should be heard."
"But you are out of order. Miss—er—"
"Welse!" half a dozen voices prompted.
"Miss Welse," he went on, an added respect marking his demeanor31, "it grieves me to inform you that you are out of order. You had best sit down."
"I will not," she answered. "I rise to a question of privilege, and if
I am not heard, I shall appeal to the meeting."
She swept the crowd with her eyes, and cries went up that she be given a fair show. The chairman yielded and motioned her to go on.
"Mr. Chairman and men: I do not know the business you have at present before you, but I do know that I have more important business to place before you. Just outside this cabin is a man probably dying from starvation. We have brought him from across the river. We should not have bothered you, but we were unable to make our own island. This man I speak of needs immediate32 attention."
"A couple of you nearest the door go out and look after him," the chairman ordered. "And you, Doc Holiday, go along and see what you can do."
Frona nodded her head. "And, Mr. Chairman, I make a motion for a recess until the man is cared for."
Cries of "No recess!" and "Go on with the business!" greeted the putting of it, and the motion was lost.
"Now, Gregory," with a smile and salutation as she took the stool beside him, "what is it?"
He gripped her hand tightly. "Don't believe them, Frona. They are trying to"—with a gulping34 swallow—"to kill me."
"Why? Do be calm. Tell me."
"Why, last night," he began hurriedly, but broke off to listen to the
"I wake wide open quick," he was saying. "I coom to the door. I there hear one shot more."
He was interrupted by a warm-complexioned man, clad in faded mackinaws.
"What did you think?" he asked.
"When you came to the door, what was your first thought?"
"A-w-w," the man sighed, his face clearing and infinite comprehension sounding in his voice. "I have no moccasins. I t'ink pretty damn cold." His satisfied expression changed to naive38 surprise when an outburst of laughter greeted his statement, but he went on stolidly39. "One more shot I hear, and I run down the trail."
Then Corliss pressed in through the crowd to Frona, and she lost what the man was saying.
"What's up?" the engineer was asking. "Anything serious? Can I be of any use?"
"Yes, yes." She caught his hand gratefully. "Get over the back-channel somehow and tell my father to come. Tell him that Gregory St. Vincent is in trouble; that he is charged with— What are you charged with, Gregory?" she asked, turning to him.
"Murder."
"Murder?" from Corliss.
"Yes, yes. Say that he is charged with murder; that I am here; and that I need him. And tell him to bring me some clothes. And, Vance,"—with a pressure of the hand and swift upward look,—"don't take any . . . any big chances, but do try to make it."
"Oh, I'll make it all right." He tossed his head confidently and proceeded to elbow his way towards the door.
He shook his head. "No. They wanted to appoint some one,—a renegade lawyer from the States, Bill Brown,—but I declined him. He's taken the other side, now. It's lynch law, you know, and their minds are made up. They're bound to get me."
"I wish there were time to hear your side."
"But, Frona, I am innocent. I—"
"So the noospaper feller, he fight like anything; but Pierre and me, we pull him into the shack43. He cry and stand in one place—"
"Who cried?" interrupted the prosecuting44 lawyer.
"Him. That feller there." The Scandinavian pointed45 directly at St. Vincent. "And I make a light. The slush-lamp I find spilt over most everything, but I have a candle in my pocket. It is good practice to carry a candle in the pocket," he affirmed gravely. "And Borg he lay on the floor dead. And the squaw say he did it, and then she die, too."
"Said who did it?"
Again his accusing finger singled out St. Vincent. "Him. That feller there."
"Did she?" Frona whispered.
"Yes," St. Vincent whispered back, "she did. But I cannot imagine what prompted her. She must have been out of her head."
The warm-faced man in the faded mackinaws then put the witness through a searching examination, which Frona followed closely, but which elicited46 little new.
"You have the right to cross-examine the witness," the chairman informed St. Vincent. "Any questions you want to ask?"
The correspondent shook his head.
"Go on," Frona urged.
"What's the use?" he asked, hopelessly. "I'm fore20-doomed. The verdict was reached before the trial began."
"One moment, please." Frona's sharp command arrested the retiring witness. "You do not know of your own knowledge who committed this murder?"
The Scandinavian gazed at her with a bovine47 expression on his leaden features, as though waiting for her question to percolate48 to his understanding.
"You did not see who did it?" she asked again.
"Aw, yes. That feller there," accusative finger to the fore. "She say he did."
There was a general smile at this.
"But you did not see it?"
"I hear some shooting."
"But you did not see who did the shooting?"
"Aw, no; but she said—"
The prosecution50 consulted its notes. "Pierre La Flitche!" was called out.
A slender, swart-skinned man, lithe51 of figure and graceful52, stepped forward to the open space before the table. He was darkly handsome, with a quick, eloquent53 eye which roved frankly54 everywhere. It rested for a moment on Frona, open and honest in its admiration55, and she smiled and half-nodded, for she liked him at first glance, and it seemed as though they had met of old time. He smiled pleasantly back, the smooth upper lip curling brightly and showing beautiful teeth, immaculately white.
In answer to the stereotyped56 preliminaries he stated that his name was that of his father's, a descendant of the coureurs du bois. His mother—with a shrug57 of the shoulders and flash of teeth—was a breed. He was born somewhere in the Barrens, on a hunting trip, he did not know where. Ah, oui, men called him an old-timer. He had come into the country in the days of Jack58 McQuestion, across the Rockies from the Great Slave.
On being told to go ahead with what he knew of the matter in hand, he deliberated a moment, as though casting about for the best departure.
"In the spring it is good to sleep with the open door," he began, his words sounding clear and flute-like and marked by haunting memories of the accents his forbears put into the tongue. "And so I sleep last night. But I sleep like the cat. The fall of the leaf, the breath of the wind, and my ears whisper to me, whisper, whisper, all the night long. So, the first shot," with a quick snap of the fingers, "and I am awake, just like that, and I am at the door."
St. Vincent leaned forward to Frona. "It was not the first shot."
"Then two more shot," he went on, "quick, together, boom-boom, just like that. 'Borg's shack,' I say to myself, and run down the trail. I think Borg kill Bella, which was bad. Bella very fine girl," he confided60 with one of his irresistible61 smiles. "I like Bella. So I run. And John he run from his cabin like a fat cow, with great noise. 'What the matter?' he say; and I say, 'I don't know.' And then something come, wheugh! out of the dark, just like that, and knock John down, and knock me down. We grab everywhere all at once. It is a man. He is in undress. He fight. He cry, 'Oh! Oh! Oh!' just like that. We hold him tight, and bime-by pretty quick, he stop. Then we get up, and I say, 'Come along back.'"
"Who was the man?"
La Flitche turned partly, and rested his eyes on St. Vincent.
"Go on."
"So? The man he will not go back; but John and I say yes, and he go."
"Did he say anything?"
La Flitche's brows drew up interrogatively.
"Ah, oui; blood on the hands." Disregarding the murmur in the room, he went on, his facile play of feature and gesture giving dramatic value to the recital65. "John make a light, and Bella groan66, like the hair-seal when you shoot him in the body, just like that when you shoot him in the body under the flipper67. And Borg lay over in the corner. I look. He no breathe 'tall.
"Then Bella open her eyes, and I look in her eyes, and I know she know me, La Flitche. 'Who did it, Bella?' I ask. And she roll her head on the floor and whisper, so low, so slow, 'Him dead?' I know she mean Borg, and I say yes. Then she lift up on one elbow, and look about quick, in big hurry, and when she see Vincent she look no more, only she look at Vincent all the time. Then she point at him, just like that." Suiting the action to the word, La Flitche turned and thrust a wavering finger at the prisoner. "And she say, 'Him, him, him.' And I say, 'Bella, who did it?' And she say, 'Him, him, him. St. Vincha, him do it.' And then"—La Flitche's head felt limply forward on his chest, and came back naturally erect68, as he finished, with a flash of teeth, "Dead."
The warm-faced man, Bill Brown, put the quarter-breed through the customary direct examination, which served to strengthen his testimony69 and to bring out the fact that a terrible struggle must have taken place in the killing70 of Borg. The heavy table was smashed, the stool and the bunk-board splintered, and the stove over-thrown. "Never did I see anything like it," La Flitche concluded his description of the wreck71. "No, never."
Brown turned him over to Frona with a bow, which a smile of hers paid for in full. She did not deem it unwise to cultivate cordiality with the lawyer. What she was working for was time—time for her father to come, time to be closeted with St. Vincent and learn all the details of what really had occurred. So she put questions, questions, interminable questions, to La Flitche. Twice only did anything of moment crop up.
"You spoke72 of the first shot, Mr. La Flitche. Now, the walls of a log cabin are quite thick. Had your door been closed, do you think you could have heard that first shot?"
He shook his head, though his dark eyes told her he divined the point she was endeavoring to establish.
"And had the door of Borg's cabin been closed, would you have heard?"
Again he shook his head.
"Then, Mr. La Flitche, when you say the first shot, you do not mean necessarily the first shot fired, but rather the first shot you heard fired?"
He nodded, and though she had scored her point she could not see that it had any material bearing after all.
Again she worked up craftily73 to another and stronger climax74, though she felt all the time that La Flitche fathomed75 her.
"You say it was very dark, Mr. La Flitche?"
"Ah, oui; quite dark."
"How dark? How did you know it was John you met?"
"John make much noise when he run. I know that kind of noise."
"Could you see him so as to know that it was he?"
"Ah, no."
"Then, Mr. La Flitche," she demanded, triumphantly76, "will you please state how you knew there was blood on the hands of Mr. St. Vincent?"
His lip lifted in a dazzling smile, and he paused a moment. "How? I feel it warm on his hands. And my nose—ah, the smoke of the hunter camp long way off, the hole where the rabbit hide, the track of the moose which has gone before, does not my nose tell me?" He flung his head back, and with tense face, eyes closed, nostrils77 quivering and dilated78, he simulated the quiescence79 of all the senses save one and the concentration of his whole being upon that one. Then his eyes fluttered partly open and he regarded her dreamily. "I smell the blood on his hands, the warm blood, the hot blood on his hands."
And so convinced was Frona that she glanced involuntarily at St. Vincent's hands, and saw there the rusty-brown stains on the cuffs80 of his flannel81 shirt.
As La Flitche left the stand, Bill Brown came over to her and shook hands. "No more than proper I should know the lawyer for the defence," he said, good-naturedly, running over his notes for the next witness.
"But don't you think it is rather unfair to me?" she asked, brightly. "I have not had time to prepare my case. I know nothing about it except what I have gleaned82 from your two witnesses. Don't you think, Mr. Brown," her voice rippling along in persuasive83 little notes, "don't you think it would be advisable to adjourn84 the meeting until to-morrow?"
"Hum," he deliberated, looking at his watch.
"Wouldn't be a bad idea. It's five o'clock, anyway, and the men ought to be cooking their suppers."
She thanked him, as some women can, without speech; yet, as he looked down into her face and eyes, he experienced a subtler and greater satisfaction than if she had spoken.
He stepped to his old position and addressed the room. "On consultation85 of the defence and the prosecution, and upon consideration of the lateness of the hour and the impossibility of finishing the trial within a reasonable limit, I—hum—I take the liberty of moving an adjournment86 until eight o'clock to-morrow morning."
"The ayes have it," the chairman proclaimed, coming down from his place and proceeding87 to build the fire, for he was a part-owner of the cabin and cook for his crowd.
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收听单词发音
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1
eyelids
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| n.眼睑( eyelid的名词复数 )；眼睛也不眨一下；不露声色；面不改色 | |
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drooped
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| 弯曲或下垂，发蔫( droop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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rumbled
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| 发出隆隆声，发出辘辘声( rumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 轰鸣着缓慢行进； 发现…的真相； 看穿（阴谋） | |
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murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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languor
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| n.无精力，倦怠 | |
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encompassed
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| v.围绕( encompass的过去式和过去分词 )；包围；包含；包括 | |
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7
Amended
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| adj. 修正的 动词amend的过去式和过去分词 | |
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fumbling
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| n. 摸索,漏接 v. 摸索,摸弄,笨拙的处理 | |
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rippling
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| 起涟漪的，潺潺流水般声音的 | |
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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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11
knuckles
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| n.（指人）指关节( knuckle的名词复数 )；（指动物）膝关节，踝v.（指人）指关节( knuckle的第三人称单数 )；（指动物）膝关节，踝 | |
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12
deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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13
astounding
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| adj.使人震惊的vt.使震惊，使大吃一惊astound的现在分词) | |
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cumulative
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| adj.累积的，渐增的 | |
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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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instinctively
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| adv.本能地 | |
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bunks
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| n.（车、船等倚壁而设的）铺位( bunk的名词复数 )；空话，废话v.（车、船等倚壁而设的）铺位( bunk的第三人称单数 )；空话，废话 | |
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18
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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mallet
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| n.槌棒 | |
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fore
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| adv.在前面；adj.先前的；在前部的；n.前部 | |
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glibly
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| adv.流利地，流畅地；满口 | |
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abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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glowered
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| v.怒视( glower的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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authoritatively
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| 命令式地，有权威地，可信地 | |
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tattered
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| adj.破旧的，衣衫破的 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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rattled
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| 慌乱的，恼火的 | |
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dissent
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| n./v.不同意，持异议 | |
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resolutely
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| adj.坚决地，果断地 | |
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subsided
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| v.（土地）下陷（因在地下采矿）( subside的过去式和过去分词 )；减弱；下降至较低或正常水平；一下子坐在椅子等上 | |
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demeanor
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| n.行为；风度 | |
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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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recess
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| n.短期休息，壁凹（墙上装架子，柜子等凹处） | |
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gulping
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| v.狼吞虎咽地吃，吞咽( gulp的现在分词 )；大口地吸（气）；哽住 | |
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previously
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| adv.以前，先前（地） | |
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ponderous
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| adj.沉重的，笨重的，(文章)冗长的 | |
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queried
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| v.质疑，对…表示疑问( query的过去式和过去分词 )；询问 | |
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38
naive
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| adj.幼稚的，轻信的；天真的 | |
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stolidly
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| adv.迟钝地，神经麻木地 | |
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helping
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| n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的，辅助的 | |
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gad
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| n.闲逛；v.闲逛 | |
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42
hush
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| int.嘘，别出声；n.沉默，静寂；v.使安静 | |
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43
shack
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| adj.简陋的小屋，窝棚 | |
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44
prosecuting
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| 检举、告发某人( prosecute的现在分词 )； 对某人提起公诉； 继续从事（某事物）； 担任控方律师 | |
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45
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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elicited
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| 引出，探出( elicit的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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bovine
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| adj.牛的；n.牛 | |
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48
percolate
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| v.过滤，渗透 | |
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49
retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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50
prosecution
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| n.起诉，告发，检举，执行，经营 | |
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51
lithe
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| adj.(指人、身体)柔软的，易弯的 | |
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52
graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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53
eloquent
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| adj.雄辩的，口才流利的；明白显示出的 | |
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54
frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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stereotyped
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| adj.(指形象、思想、人物等)模式化的 | |
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shrug
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| v.耸肩(表示怀疑、冷漠、不知等) | |
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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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gallantly
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| adv. 漂亮地，勇敢地，献殷勤地 | |
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confided
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| v.吐露（秘密，心事等）( confide的过去式和过去分词 )；（向某人）吐露（隐私、秘密等） | |
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irresistible
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| adj.非常诱人的，无法拒绝的，无法抗拒的 | |
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sob
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| n.空间轨道的轰炸机；呜咽，哭泣 | |
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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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uncommon
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| adj.罕见的，非凡的，不平常的 | |
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recital
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| n.朗诵，独奏会，独唱会 | |
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groan
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| vi./n.呻吟，抱怨；(发出)呻吟般的声音 | |
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flipper
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| n. 鳍状肢，潜水用橡皮制鳍状肢 | |
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erect
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| n./v.树立，建立，使竖立；adj.直立的，垂直的 | |
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testimony
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| n.证词；见证，证明 | |
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killing
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| n.巨额利润；突然赚大钱，发大财 | |
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wreck
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| n.失事，遇难；沉船；vt.(船等)失事，遇难 | |
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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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craftily
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| 狡猾地，狡诈地 | |
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climax
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| n.顶点；高潮；v.(使)达到顶点 | |
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fathomed
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| 理解…的真意( fathom的过去式和过去分词 )； 彻底了解； 弄清真相 | |
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triumphantly
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| ad.得意洋洋地；得胜地；成功地 | |
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nostrils
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| 鼻孔( nostril的名词复数 ) | |
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dilated
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| adj.加宽的，扩大的v.（使某物）扩大，膨胀，张大( dilate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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quiescence
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| n.静止 | |
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cuffs
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| n.袖口( cuff的名词复数 )v.掌打，拳打( cuff的第三人称单数 ) | |
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flannel
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| n.法兰绒；法兰绒衣服 | |
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gleaned
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| v.一点点地收集（资料、事实）( glean的过去式和过去分词 )；（收割后）拾穗 | |
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persuasive
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| adj.有说服力的，能说得使人相信的 | |
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adjourn
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| v.（使）休会，（使）休庭 | |
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consultation
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| n.咨询；商量；商议；会议 | |
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adjournment
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| 休会； 延期； 休会期； 休庭期 | |
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proceeding
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| n.行动，进行，(pl.)会议录，学报 | |
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