Smith roused Mandeville two hours before dawn, and they boiled a quart-pot of tea, for the water would run to no more. They had to husband it. But before they drank Smith spoke1 to his chum seriously.
"Do you know the odds2 are against us, Mandy, old boy? I didn't put it right last night. Though it's bad going back, that chance is much the best."
"I'll do what you do," said the Baker3 obstinately4, brushing away a fly. "It's all one to me, old man."
"I'm going on," said Smith, with a curious, hard determination; "and I'll tell you why. I believe in this; I believe I'm going to strike it. I know there's gold out here. Yes, I know it as if I'd seen it, Mandy."
"I want it, Mandy, bad. There's the devil to pay in England, and no pitch hot. I half-ruined my folks before I was twenty, and I heard last mail that everything was wrong; the old man crazy, and my mother living as she never lived before. And there's another woman in it, too. I'll tell you about it some day."
"But," asked Mandeville, "suppose you go under, Smith?"
"I sha'n't," said Smith; "and if I do, they'll know I'm dead, and can't help 'em. I've been a bad hat, old man, and if I rot in the sun it will serve me right."
Mandeville stopped rolling up his swag.
"You may be what you like, but you're a blooming good pal6," said he, "and if you're to corpse7 it here, I'll corpse it too. You stuck by me when I wanted a friend bad in Albany and at New Find. And that's enough say. If you're in it, I'm on."
He brought up the horses, which were not in such bad case as they might have been.
"They don't look so bloomin' bad," said the Baker.
"I'll tell you what, Smith, I believe there's a drop o' water round here somewhere. I heard a mosquito this morning, and it's a deal too dry for them if there ain't water."
He went to look, and at the end of the patch of timber, and just under the roots of a tree, he found mud marked with trampling8 hoofs9.
"It's a pity they didn't leave some, and then we could have filled up the bags," said the Baker. He went back and told his chum.
"We're in luck's way," said Smith, who was in a fever of suppressed excitement. "That saves a quart of water. I'd have given the poor devils a pint10 apiece, if we'd died ourselves."
And an hour before dawn they got away and travelled fast.
For two or three hours their north-east way led them through much the same country as they had passed through before, for it was as flat as a calm sea, and bare of scrub higher than a horse's knee. But when the sun was two hours up they came to a more rolling country, which was here and there broken by a dried creek11 bed. Yet sign of water was none. It seemed that the heavy rain which had tempted12 them out had not fallen there. Yet right ahead of them was a low range which looked timbered.
"How far is it?" asked the Baker.
"I should guess thirty miles," said Smith.
"Then it's not for to-day?"
"No," said Smith.
They rode on for an hour.
"If we get no water to-night, it's all up with the gee-gees," said the Baker.
And when they had ridden half a mile, Smith spoke.
"Yes, you're right," said he.
As he rode, his face twitched13, and his expression changed a thousand times. For he was wrought14 up to a strange pitch, and his nerves were tried. His face, which was thin and brown, and very finely cut, showed every thought in his mind, and the poor Baker watched it wonderingly.
"I wonder what's in his 'ead," said he. For just then Smith looked very gloomy.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
Smith turned in his saddle, and smiled an odd, far-away smile.
"I was thinking of champagne15 with ice in it. Oh, but it's well this moment that I'm not with it," he said.
"You're wonderful h'awkward to deal with when you're blind," said the Baker.
And Smith nodded.
"It's damned hard lines," said he presently.
"What's 'ard?"
"That my father drank," said Smith.
This took Mandeville aback.
"What!" he cried. "But I thort you said your father was a clergyman?"
Smith nodded.
"There's many a parson doing time," said he.
"What for?" asked the Baker in rather contemptuous disbelief.
But Smith did not answer.
"Shall we drink?" he asked.
And they wetted their parched16 throats. When the horses heard the terrible sound of pouring water, they turned their heads and whinnied pitifully.
"Poor, poor devils," said Smith. But he rode a bit harder.
Yet he gave them their pint at noon. It only aggravated17 their thirst, and when, after a little rest, they went on, they showed every sign of terrible distress18.
That night they camped in a dry gully in a broken country. With all their searching they could find no sign of water. They rose at midnight, and travelled north-east still, having now a little over a quart of water between them.
The next night they were across the first range, and Smith's horse fell and died. They cut the throat of Mandeville's horse in the morning, for they had no water left. But they did not speak, and looked half-askance at each other. It seemed an intolerable and brutal19 murder.
They now walked straight ahead in a fairly timbered country. Smith kept his eyes open for any sign of a native well; but he saw nothing.
"It's all a dream, Baker," said Smith. "I could believe anything. We are where no white man ever was. No one has been within two hundred miles of this place."
"Where are the others now?" asked the choking Baker.
"God knows."
"It's a country of black enchantment," said Smith. "I daresay it doesn't exist; perhaps we don't exist. Perhaps we are only dreaming. It's devilish hot, Baker."
And Baker nodded painfully.
"What do you talk for?" he murmured.
"Because I must," answered his pal. "And there's gold here; I smell it. but I've brought you to your death, Baker."
Poor Mandeville laid his hand on Smith's arm, and looked at him like a dumb animal in pain.
"Never mind, old man. But my name's Baker, and I'm baked."
He turned blind as he spoke, and stumbled.
"Hold up, damn it," cried Smith, in agony which sounded like anger.
And he could have cried, if his thickening blood had not sucked every tear out of him. He put his arm round Baker, and they stumbled on till they came to a shady tree.
Smith got down by him.
"Oh," said the Baker, and he was half-unconscious. But he spoke.
And Smith laughed with a thin, dry laugh, and bending down, he kissed the Baker upon the low forehead, which held a faithful little soul now in the valley of the shadow of a horrible death.
Then Smith shook him.
"Rouse up, Baker."
And Mandeville drew back his mind to the bitter earth.
"Yes, old man."
"There may be water within reach, Baker. Now, listen and get hold of it. I'm going to look for water. If I don't come back, we're done. Do you understand?"
The Baker nodded, looking wistfully at his mate. Smith stooped and kissed him again. And the Baker smiled, as Smith went off towards the thicker timber.
点击收听单词发音
1 spoke | |
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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2 odds | |
n.让步,机率,可能性,比率;胜败优劣之别 | |
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3 baker | |
n.面包师 | |
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4 obstinately | |
ad.固执地,顽固地 | |
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5 munched | |
v.用力咀嚼(某物),大嚼( munch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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6 pal | |
n.朋友,伙伴,同志;vi.结为友 | |
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7 corpse | |
n.尸体,死尸 | |
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8 trampling | |
踩( trample的现在分词 ); 践踏; 无视; 侵犯 | |
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9 hoofs | |
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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10 pint | |
n.品脱 | |
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11 creek | |
n.小溪,小河,小湾 | |
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12 tempted | |
v.怂恿(某人)干不正当的事;冒…的险(tempt的过去分词) | |
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13 twitched | |
vt.& vi.(使)抽动,(使)颤动(twitch的过去式与过去分词形式) | |
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14 wrought | |
v.引起;以…原料制作;运转;adj.制造的 | |
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15 champagne | |
n.香槟酒;微黄色 | |
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16 parched | |
adj.焦干的;极渴的;v.(使)焦干 | |
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17 aggravated | |
使恶化( aggravate的过去式和过去分词 ); 使更严重; 激怒; 使恼火 | |
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18 distress | |
n.苦恼,痛苦,不舒适;不幸;vt.使悲痛 | |
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19 brutal | |
adj.残忍的,野蛮的,不讲理的 | |
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20 spat | |
n.口角,掌击;v.发出呼噜呼噜声 | |
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21 anguish | |
n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦,烦恼 | |
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22 mumbled | |
含糊地说某事,叽咕,咕哝( mumble的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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23 bent | |
n.爱好,癖好;adj.弯的;决心的,一心的 | |
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