He found the men ensconced in a rough shanty1 in the woods north of Lake Oro. A large belt of timber in that region belonged to the Neil boys and Sandy had taken the contract of supplying the Glenoro mill with logs for the coming season. But he found that commanding such an enterprise was no easy task, and he handed over the responsibility with much relief to Donald. The cutting and hauling had been almost completed, and now all that was needed was an open lake to float the logs across to the river and thence down to the village. The Oro was already free of ice, rushing along, high and swollen2 with the melting snow. A few days more of sun and wind would clear the lake also, and send its winter fetters3 crashing up on the shore.
So when Donald arrived the camp was not very busy, though it was exceedingly lively. The men had plenty of leisure, and they spent it and their winter's wages at a little old tavern4, a remnant of earlier and rougher days, which stood where the river left Lake Oro. Under any other circumstances Donald would have exercised a restraining influence upon Sandy and the boys of his acquaintance, but just now his heart was angry and reckless. So the wild revelry suffered no abatement5 because of his presence.
Duncan Polite waited anxiously for the boys' return, the dread6 of impending7 disaster hanging over his spirit. The weather changed to sudden warmth, however, and brought to the old man a renewal8 of strength and the hope that Donald would soon be with him. He was well enough to go to church the next Sabbath, the first time in many months. Andrew Johnstone was so pleased to have his old friend with him again that his stick never moved from its peaceful position in the rear, and he even forbore to make any caustic9 remarks about the minister.
His spirits were only in keeping with the day. Spring had descended11 upon the world with a sudden dazzling rush. The air was clear and intoxicatingly fresh; blinding white clouds raced joyously12 across the radiant blue. As Duncan passed through the gate an early robin13, swinging in the tall elm, poured out his ecstatic little heart in hysterical14 song. Everywhere was water, water, rushing down the hills in a thousand mad rivulets15, flashing in the sunlight like chains of diamonds and filling the air with their song of wild freedom. And through the valley came the river, a monster now, roaring down its narrow channel and swirling16 out past the church as if it would carry away the village.
As the two old men walked slowly up the hill on the way home they heard the news for which Duncan had been anxiously waiting: the ice on the lake had broken, and the boys intended to bring down their lumber17 on the morrow.
The next day passed, warm and sunshiny, but Donald Neil's logs did not appear in the Glenoro millpond. Duncan sat at his window in the dusk of the evening, expecting every moment to see Donald coming up the path to tell him their work was finished. But the night was descending18, and Donald had not come. A great dread had taken hold of the old man's heart, a dread he could not explain. He knew that both Donald and Sandy were expert river drivers, but he could not reason himself out of the fear that the crisis had come. This sacrifice towards which he had been looking for so many months, was it near? And what would it be?
He had set his door open, owing to the warmth of the night, and through it came the sound of ceaseless pouring of water. Sitting with his face pressed against the pane19, thinking of his high hopes of just one year ago, he mournfully shook his head.
"The sacrifice," he murmured, "it must come, but, oh, my Father, must it be Donal'? 'Bind20 ye the sacrifice with cords even unto the horns of the altar.' Ah, it would be a message, a message—and will it be Donal'? must I give him up, oh, my Father?" His hands clasped and unclasped, his face stood out from the darkness of the room, white with pain.
He had not noticed a little figure making its way rapidly down the road; but his eye caught it as it entered the gate. His heart stood still as he saw Archie, his sister's youngest boy, come running up the path. "What will you be wanting, laddie?" he asked, almost in a whisper, as the little fellow paused in the doorway21.
"Oh, are you there, Uncle Duncan!" cried the child, groping his way across the room. "It's so awful dark here. Jimmie Archie's folks is sugarin' off to-night in the bush down alongside the river, and I want to go over, an' mother she wouldn't let me go alone. Now, ain't that mean, Uncle Duncan?"
Duncan breathed a great sigh of relief. "Will the boys not be down with the logs yet?"
"Nop; Jimmie Archie said all the fellows Sandy and Don had was drunk at the tavern to-day, an' the logs was all ready to bring out into the river, mind ye, an' Crummie Bailey—it was at school, you know—an' Crummie said he'd bet Don an' Sandy was drunker than 'em all; an' I thumped22 him good, you bet, uncle, an' he's eleven an' I'm only ten an' a half!"
Duncan put his hand upon the child's head with a feeling of helpless woe23. "Yes, yes, laddie," he said absently.
"Mother said I couldn't go to the sugar bush without somebody with me," Archie broke out again. "Aw, shucks, I ain't a kid!" The dignity of ten years and a half was being sadly ruffled24. He leaned upon the arm of Duncan's chair and looked up coaxingly25.
"I guess I'll have to stay away, 'cause there's nobody to go with me, an' mother said I wasn't to ask you, 'cause it would make your cold worse."
He sighed prodigiously26 over this self-denial, and with his characteristic self-forgetfulness Duncan put aside his own trouble. "Oh, indeed it is a great man you will be some day," he said. "But what if I would be going with you?"
"Oh, man! but I wish you could! Only I ain't such a baby as to have somebody luggin' me 'round."
Duncan patted his head lovingly. "Hoots27, toots, but you surely won't leave a poor old man like your uncle to find his way alone," he said, with great tact28. "I will not be at Jimmie Archie's sugar bush for many a year, and you will jist be showing me the road."
Archie's pride was somewhat mollified by this aspect of the case, and being further soothed29 by a huge slab30 of bread and jam, he set off with his uncle in high glee. Duncan put on his bonnet31 and plaid and with Collie bounding in front, half mad with joy at this unexpected excursion, they stepped out upon the road. The moon was shining, but its rays were obscured by the mild night mists. A soft, suffused32 light shrouded33 the landscape, giving an unreal and weird34 appearance to all objects. A rising wind shifted the ghostly clouds here and there; it was a strangely uncanny night.
Jimmie Archie McDonald's farm lay up the river, next to Andrew Johnstone's. But the belt of maples35 with the sugar camp was quite near. So when Duncan Polite and the child had gone a short distance up the road they climbed a fence and crossed the soft, yielding fields until they reached the line of timber that bordered the stream.
"There's a path jist along by the river that goes straight to Jimmie Archie's bush," explained Archie importantly, strutting36 ahead. "Ain't you glad I called for you, Uncle Duncan?" He dashed into the woods whooping37 and yelling, with Collie circling about him in noisy delight, and darted38 back again at short intervals39 to ask a dozen unanswerable questions. "What made the moon look so queer? And what was the moon made of, anyhow? Sandy said it was made of green cheese; but Don said if that was true they must have got a chunk40 of the moon to make Sandy's head. And Don ought to know, since he'd been to college. And what made the moon shine? The master told the Fourth Class that the moon didn't have any light of its own. And Crummie Bailey said that was a howlin' lie, 'cause any fool could see it. And the master heard him saying it at recess41, and he licked Crummie good for it, too. And was the shadow on the moon really a man?"
Duncan replied at random42. Ordinarily he was Archie's most interesting chum, but to-night he was silent and absent. The boy concluded it was because his uncle had been sick all winter. He was too excited over the prospect43 of a visit to the sugar bush and unlimited44 taffy to care very much, however, and went dancing along over the ghostly patches of snow and through the weird, shifting mists, his tongue keeping pace with his feet.
"Don't you wish there was tagers and lions in the bush here, Uncle? I bet I'd shoot them if there was. Sandy says there's lions down in the river bed, but I bet he jist said that to see if I'd get scared. He can't scare me, though. What kind of a noise does a lion make. Uncle Dune45? Listen, do you hear that funny noise ahead?" He drew closer to his uncle. "Is that the kind of a noise a lion makes?"
"It will jist be the river you hear, child," said Duncan reassuringly46.
"No, I don't mean that squashy noise; it's that bangin' sound," he insisted anxiously. "Listen!"
They stood still, the child holding the man's fingers, and above the sighing of the bare treetops and the rushing of the river there came the sound of dull, booming thuds.
"We will jist see," said Duncan, striving to hide his apprehension47. They hurried through the underbrush towards the river, where a few cedar48 clumps49 overhung its edge. Duncan seized one and, leaning over, looked down into the dark ravine. The pale moonlight touched the water and revealed the cause of the unusual sounds. Strange dark forms were hurrying along its glinting surface. Down the foaming50 tide they came, shooting past, swift and stealthy. As far up the river as Duncan's eye could pierce still they appeared, whirling silently forward. But farther down was a sight that made the old man's heart stand still. A few yards below him, and just at the turn in the river above the village were the "Narrows," where the most careful navigation of logs was necessary to prevent a jam. And there, wedged in the narrow channel, hurled51 together into fantastic shapes and augmented52 each moment by the oncoming logs which struck the heap with a resounding53 boom, was piled a wild jumbled54 mass of timber!
Like most of the early settlers of Glenoro, Duncan was an experienced river-driver, and instantly realised the gravity of the situation. If the jam of logs were permitted long to impede55 the progress of the river in its high, swollen condition, there would be a disastrous56 flood in the village. In a flash there passed before his mind a picture of the havoc57 it would cause,—death and destruction swift and certain upon the unwarned inhabitants, men and women hurried into Eternity58 unprepared! And Donald,—Donald would be held responsible! This jam must have resulted through his carelessness. Before the world he would be disgraced; before his Maker—the thought struck the old man with a paralysing fear. He stood for a moment motionless, watching the shifting, heaving, rumbling59 mass,—and then life seemed suddenly to return.
"Run to the Glen, Archie!" he cried to the frightened boy. "Run, laddie, and tell the folk at Peter McNabb's shop there will be a jam at the Narrows!"
Archie was off down a cross track like a hare, Collie after him. Duncan stooped down, feeling among the underbrush, and caught up a stout60 pole. Grasping it he made his way hurriedly down the bank and along the water's edge to the quaking, seething61 mass. Cautiously he climbed out upon it, the water hissing62 about him in angry, spurting63 jets. He could feel the pile rising beneath him with fearful rapidity. A swift examination convinced Duncan of two startling truths—first, the jam must be broken immediately, or it would be too late, and second, he might break it, even with the small pole he held, but he was neither young enough nor nimble enough to do it and save his own life.
And then, of a sudden, a thought struck him, as if a great light had broken over his soul, an illumination which chased away all the dark, weary shadows and fears of the past months. The Sacrifice! The trial he had been dreading64! Was this it? Merely the giving of a poor, worn-out life, and the promised blessing65 would descend10? He had failed to save Donald and his father's home from sin and worldliness; but now if he gave his life to save his boy from life-long regret and despair, and his friends from sudden death, would not the Father accept this and send the reward? A sense of overwhelming joy and hope seized the old man. He grasped his pole tightly and went resolutely66 forward.
With the skilled eye of an old river-driver he soon discovered the "key." Right beneath him lay the log that could unlock the huge, groaning67 gateway68, and let the impeded69 tide sweep safely down the valley. Duncan leaned forward and pried70 at it with his pole, putting into the work a strange strength he had not felt for many a year. The mass creaked ominously71. A gust72 of wind caught his old Scotch73 bonnet, sending it whirling away into the darkness and tossing his white hair. He struggled on, throwing his whole weight upon the pole with a desperate energy, and praying with all the passion of his soul that the High Priest would accept his humble74 sacrifice. The great hope that perhaps he would be considered worthy75 to imitate, even in the feeblest manner, the atonement that his Master had made was filling him and lending his arm an unnatural76 strength. Behind him the waters surged and the piling logs boomed threateningly. But to Duncan there was no menace in the sound. It brought to his mind the words of his favourite psalm77, as Peter McNabb sang it in the little church by the river,
"The Lord's voice on the waters is;
Doth thunder—"
"Oh, my Father, my Father!" he was praying with passionate79 fervour, as he struggled with the stubborn beam, "accept this poor sacrifice, and may Donal' and my father's Glen be saved!"
The answer came in a thunderous roar. Like a wild animal let loose, the wall of lumber leaped up and hurled itself forward. It caught the old man as if he had been a feather and flung him away into the whirling blackness. For an instant his white hair shone out like a snowflake on the dark river, for an instant only, and then the great billow of liberated80 water came roaring forward and swept over him on its way down the valley.
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1
shanty
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| n.小屋，棚屋；船工号子 | |
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swollen
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| adj.肿大的，水涨的；v.使变大，肿胀 | |
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3
fetters
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| n.脚镣( fetter的名词复数 )；束缚v.给…上脚镣，束缚( fetter的第三人称单数 ) | |
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4
tavern
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| n.小旅馆，客栈；小酒店 | |
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abatement
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| n.减(免)税，打折扣，冲销 | |
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dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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7
impending
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| a.imminent, about to come or happen | |
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renewal
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| adj.(契约)延期，续订，更新，复活，重来 | |
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9
caustic
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| adj.刻薄的，腐蚀性的 | |
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10
descend
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| vt./vi.传下来，下来，下降 | |
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descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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joyously
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| ad.快乐地, 高兴地 | |
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robin
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| n.知更鸟，红襟鸟 | |
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hysterical
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| adj.情绪异常激动的，歇斯底里般的 | |
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rivulets
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| n.小河，小溪( rivulet的名词复数 ) | |
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16
swirling
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| v.旋转，打旋( swirl的现在分词 ) | |
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lumber
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| n.木材，木料；v.以破旧东西堆满；伐木；笨重移动 | |
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18
descending
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| n. 下行 adj. 下降的 | |
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pane
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| n.窗格玻璃，长方块 | |
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20
bind
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| vt.捆，包扎；装订；约束；使凝固；vi.变硬 | |
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doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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thumped
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| v.重击， （指心脏）急速跳动( thump的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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woe
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| n.悲哀，苦痛，不幸，困难；int.用来表达悲伤或惊慌 | |
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24
ruffled
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| adj. 有褶饰边的, 起皱的 动词ruffle的过去式和过去分词 | |
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coaxingly
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| adv. 以巧言诱哄，以甘言哄骗 | |
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prodigiously
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| adv.异常地，惊人地，巨大地 | |
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hoots
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| 咄，啐 | |
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28
tact
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| n.机敏，圆滑，得体 | |
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29
soothed
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| v.安慰( soothe的过去式和过去分词 )；抚慰；使舒服；减轻痛苦 | |
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slab
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| n.平板，厚的切片；v.切成厚板，以平板盖上 | |
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bonnet
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| n.无边女帽；童帽 | |
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32
suffused
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| v.（指颜色、水气等）弥漫于，布满( suffuse的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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shrouded
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| v.隐瞒( shroud的过去式和过去分词 )；保密 | |
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weird
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| adj.古怪的，离奇的；怪诞的，神秘而可怕的 | |
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35
maples
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| 槭树，枫树( maple的名词复数 )； 槭木 | |
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strutting
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| 加固，支撑物 | |
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whooping
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| 发嗬嗬声的，发咳声的 | |
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darted
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| v.投掷，投射( dart的过去式和过去分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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intervals
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| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
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chunk
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| n.厚片，大块，相当大的部分（数量） | |
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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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random
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| adj.随机的；任意的；n.偶然的(或随便的)行动 | |
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prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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44
unlimited
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| adj.无限的，不受控制的，无条件的 | |
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45
dune
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| n.(由风吹积而成的)沙丘 | |
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reassuringly
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| ad.安心，可靠 | |
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apprehension
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| n.理解，领悟；逮捕，拘捕；忧虑 | |
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48
cedar
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| n.雪松，香柏(木) | |
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49
clumps
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| n.（树、灌木、植物等的）丛、簇( clump的名词复数 )；（土、泥等）团；块；笨重的脚步声v.（树、灌木、植物等的）丛、簇( clump的第三人称单数 )；（土、泥等）团；块；笨重的脚步声 | |
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50
foaming
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| adj.布满泡沫的；发泡 | |
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51
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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52
Augmented
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| adj.增音的 动词augment的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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53
resounding
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| adj. 响亮的 | |
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54
jumbled
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| adj.混乱的；杂乱的 | |
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55
impede
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| v.妨碍，阻碍，阻止 | |
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56
disastrous
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| adj.灾难性的，造成灾害的；极坏的，很糟的 | |
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57
havoc
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| n.大破坏，浩劫，大混乱，大杂乱 | |
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58
eternity
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| n.不朽，来世；永恒，无穷 | |
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59
rumbling
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| n. 隆隆声, 辘辘声 adj. 隆隆响的 动词rumble的现在分词 | |
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61
seething
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| 沸腾的，火热的 | |
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hissing
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| n. 发嘶嘶声, 蔑视 动词hiss的现在分词形式 | |
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63
spurting
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| （液体，火焰等）喷出，（使）涌出( spurt的现在分词 )； （短暂地）加速前进，冲刺； 溅射 | |
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64
dreading
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| v.害怕，恐惧，担心( dread的现在分词 ) | |
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65
blessing
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| n.祈神赐福；祷告；祝福，祝愿 | |
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66
resolutely
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| adj.坚决地，果断地 | |
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groaning
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| adj. 呜咽的, 呻吟的 动词groan的现在分词形式 | |
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gateway
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| n.大门口，出入口，途径，方法 | |
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impeded
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| 阻碍，妨碍，阻止( impede的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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70
pried
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| v.打听，刺探（他人的私事）( pry的过去式和过去分词 )；撬开 | |
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71
ominously
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| adv.恶兆地，不吉利地；预示地 | |
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72
gust
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| n.阵风，突然一阵（雨、烟等），（感情的）迸发 | |
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73
scotch
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| n.伤口，刻痕；苏格兰威士忌酒；v.粉碎，消灭，阻止；adj.苏格兰(人)的 | |
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74
humble
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| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
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75
worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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76
unnatural
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| adj.不自然的；反常的 | |
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77
psalm
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| n.赞美诗，圣诗 | |
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78
majesty
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| n.雄伟，壮丽，庄严，威严；最高权威，王权 | |
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79
passionate
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
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80
liberated
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| a.无拘束的，放纵的 | |
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