It had been hard to gauge1 the falling of night on this day, and even the careful eyes of the watchers on the Cumberland Ranch2 could not tell when the greyness of the sky was being darkened by the coming of the evening. All day there had been swift alterations3 of light and shadow, comparatively speaking, as the clouds grew thin or thick before the wind. But at length, indubitably, the night was there. Little by little the sky was overcast4, and even the lines of the falling rain were no longer visible. Before the gloom of the darkness had fully5 settled over the earth, moreover, there came a change in the wind, and the watchers at the rain-beaten windows of the ranch-house saw the clouds roll apart and split into fragments that were driven from the face of the sky; and from the clean washed face of heaven the stars shone down bright and serene6. And still Dan Barry had not come.
After the tumult7 of that long day the sudden silence of that windless night had more ill omen8 in it than thunder and lightning. For there is something watching and waiting in silence. In the living room the three did not speak.
Now that the storm was gone they had allowed the fire to fall away until the hearth9 showed merely fragmentary dances of flame and a wide bed of dull red coals growing dimmer from moment to moment. Wung Lu had brought in a lamp—a large lamp with a circular wick that cast a bright, white light—but Kate had turned down the wick, and now it made only a brief circle of yellow in one corner of the room. The main illumination came from the fireplace and struck on the faces of Kate and Buck10 Daniels, while Joe Cumberland, on the couch at the end of the room, was only plainly visible when there was an extraordinarily11 high leap of the dying flames; but usually his face was merely a glimmering13 hint in the darkness—his face and the long hands which were folded upon his breast. Often when the flames leapt there was a crackling of the embers and the last of the log, and then the two nearer the fire would start and flash a glance, of one accord, towards the prostrate14 figure on the couch.
That silence had lasted so long that when at length the dull voice of Joe Cumberland broke in, there was a ring of a most prophetic solemnity about it.
"He ain't come," said the old man. "Dan ain't here."
The others exchanged glances, but the eyes of Kate dropped sadly and fastened again upon the hearth.
"Nobody but a fool," he said, "would have started out of Elkhead in a storm like this."
"Weather makes no difference to Dan," said Joe Cumberland.
"But he'd think of his hoss——"
"Weather makes no difference to Satan," answered the faint, oracular voice of Joe Cumberland. "Kate!"
"Yes?"
"Is he comin'?"
She did not answer. Instead, she got up slowly from her place by the fire and took another chair, far away in the gloom, where hardly a glimmer12 of light reached to her and there she let her head rest, as if exhausted16, against the back of the seat.
"He promised," said Buck Daniels, striving desperately17 to keep his voice cheerful, "and he never busts18 his promises."
"Ay," said the old man, "he promised to be back—but he ain't here."
"If he started after the storm," said Buck Daniels.
"What was that," cried Buck Daniels sharply.
"The wind," said Kate, "for it's rising. It will be a cold night, to-night."
"And he ain't here," said the old man monotonously20.
"Ain't there things that might hold him up?" asked Buck, with a touch of irritation21.
"Ay," said the old rancher, "they's things that'll hold him up. They's things that'll turn a dog wild, too, and the taste of blood is one of 'em!"
The silence fell again.
There was an old clock standing22 against the wall. It was one of those tall, wooden frames in which, behind the glass, the heavy, polished disk of the pendulum23, alternated slowly back and forth24 with wearisome precision. And with every stroke of the seconds there was a faint, metallic25 clangor in the clock—a falter26 like that which comes in the voice of a very old man. And the sound of this clock took possession of every silence until it seemed like the voice of a doomsman counting off the seconds. Ay, everyone in the room, again and again, took up the tale of those seconds and would count them slowly—fifty, fifty-one, fifty-two, fifty-three—and on and on, waiting for the next speech, or for the next popping of the wood upon the hearth, or for the next wail28 of the wind that would break upon the deadly expectancy29 of that count. And while they counted each looked straight before him with wide and widening eyes.
Into one of these pauses the voice of Buck Daniels broke at length; and it was a cheerless and lonely voice in that large room, in the dull darkness, and the duller lights.
"D'you remember Shorty Martin, Kate?"
"I remember him."
He turned in his chair and hitched30 it a little closer to her until he could make put her face, dimly, among the shadows. The flames jumped on the hearth, and he saw a picture that knocked at his heart.
"The little bow-legged feller, I mean."
"Yes, I remember him very well."
Once more the flames sputtered31 and he saw how she looked wistfully before her and above. She had never seemed so lovely to Buck Daniels. She was pale, indeed, but there was no ugly pinching of her face, and if there were shadows beneath her eyes, they only served to make her eyes seem marvelously large and bright. She was pallid32, and the firelight stained her skin with touches of tropic gold, and cast a halo of the golden hair about her face. She seemed like one of those statues wrought33 in the glory and the rich days of Athens in ivory and in gold—some goddess who has heard the tidings of the coming fall, the change of the old order, and sits passive in her throne waiting the doom27 from which there is no escape. Something of this filtered through to the sad heart of Buck Daniels. He, too, had no hope—nay, he had not even her small hope, but somehow he was able to pity her and cherish the picture of her in that gloomy place. It seemed to Buck Daniels that he would give ten years from the best of his life to see her smile as he had once seen her in those old, bright days. He went on with his tale.
"You would have busted34 laughin' if you'd seen him at the Circle Y Bar roundup the way I seen him. Shorty ain't so bad with a rope. He's always talkin' about what he can do and how he can daub a rope on anything that's got horns. He ain't so bad, but then he ain't so good, either. Specially35, he ain't so good at ridin'—you know what bowed legs he's got, Kate?"
"I remember, Buck."
She was looking at him, at last, and he talked eagerly to turn that look into a smile.
"Well, they was the three of us got after one two year old—a bull and a bad 'un. Shorty was on one side and me and Cuttle was on the other side. Shorty daubed his rope and made a fair catch, but when his hoss set back the rope busted plumb36 in two. Now, Shorty, he had an idea that he could ease the work of his hoss a whole pile if he laid holts on the rope whenever his hoss set down to flop37 a cow. So Shorty, he had holt on this rope and was pulling back hard when the rope busted, and Shorty, he spilled backwards38 out'n that saddle like he'd been kicked out.
"Whilst he was lyin' there, the bull, that had took a header when the rope busted, come up on his feet agin, and I'll tell a man he was rarin' mad! He seen Shorty lyin' on the ground, and he took a run for Shorty. Me and Cuttle was laughin' so hard we couldn't barely swing our ropes, but I made a throw and managed to get that bull around both horns. So my Betty sits down and braces39 herself for the tug40.
"In the meantime little Shorty, he sits up and lays a hand to his head, and same time he sees that bull come tarin' for him. Up he jumps. And jest then the bull come to the end of the line and wonk!—down he goes, head over heels, and hits the sand with a bang that must of jostled his liver some, I'll be sayin'!
"Well, Shorty, he seen that bull fly up into the air and he lets out a yell like the world was comin' to an end, and starts runnin'. If he'd run straight back the other way the bull couldn't of run a step, because I had him fast with my rope, but Shorty seen me, and he come tarin' for my hoss to get behind him.
"That bull was like a cat gettin' to his feet, and he sights Shorty tarin' and lights out after him. There they went lickety-split. That bull was puffin' on the seat of Shorty's trowsers and tossin' his horns and jest missin' Shorty by inches; and Shorty had his mouth so wide open hollerin' that you could have throwed a side of beef down his throat; and his eyes was buggin' out. Them bow-legs of his was stretchin' ten yards at a clip, most like, and the boys says they could hear him hollerin' a mile away. But that bull, stretch himself all he could, couldn't gain an inch on Shorty, and Shorty couldn't gain an inch on the bull, till the bull come to the other end of the forty-foot rope, and then, whang! up goes the heels of the bull and down goes his head, and his heels comes over—wonk! and hits Shorty right square on the head.
"Been an ordinary feller, and he wouldn't of lived to talk about it afterwards, but seein' it was Shorty, he jest goes up in the air and lands about ten yards away, and rolls over and hits his feet without once gettin' off his stride—and then he did start runnin', and he didn't stop runnin' nor hollerin' till he got plumb back to the house!"
Buck Daniels sat back in his chair and guffawed41 at the memory. In the excitement of the tale he had quite forgotten Kate, but when he remembered her, she sat with her head craned a little to one side, her hand raised for silence, and a smile, indeed, upon her lips, but never a glance for Buck Daniels. He knew at once.
"Is it him?" he whispered. "D'you hear him?"
"No," said the girl suddenly, "it was only the wind."
As if in answer, a far, faint whistling broke upon them. She drew her hands slowly towards her breast, as if, indeed, she drew the sound in with them.
"He's coming!" she cried. "Oh, Dad, listen! Don't you hear?"
"I do," answered the rancher, "but what I'm hearin' don't warm my blood none. Kate, if you're wise you'll get up and go to your room and don't pay no heed43 to anything you might be hearin' to-night."
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1
gauge
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| v.精确计量；估计；n.标准度量；计量器 | |
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2
ranch
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| n.大牧场，大农场 | |
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3
alterations
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| n.改动( alteration的名词复数 )；更改；变化；改变 | |
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4
overcast
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| adj.阴天的，阴暗的，愁闷的；v.遮盖，（使）变暗，包边缝；n.覆盖，阴天 | |
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5
fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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6
serene
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| adj. 安详的，宁静的，平静的 | |
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7
tumult
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| n.喧哗；激动，混乱；吵闹 | |
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8
omen
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| n.征兆，预兆；vt.预示 | |
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9
hearth
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| n.壁炉炉床，壁炉地面 | |
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10
buck
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| n.雄鹿，雄兔；v.马离地跳跃 | |
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11
extraordinarily
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| adv.格外地；极端地 | |
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12
glimmer
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| v.发出闪烁的微光；n.微光，微弱的闪光 | |
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13
glimmering
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| n.微光，隐约的一瞥adj.薄弱地发光的v.发闪光，发微光( glimmer的现在分词 ) | |
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14
prostrate
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| v.拜倒，平卧，衰竭；adj.拜倒的，平卧的，衰竭的 | |
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15
orator
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| n.演说者，演讲者，雄辩家 | |
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16
exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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17
desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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18
busts
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| 半身雕塑像( bust的名词复数 )； 妇女的胸部； 胸围； 突击搜捕 | |
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19
oracle
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| n.神谕，神谕处，预言 | |
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20
monotonously
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| adv.单调地，无变化地 | |
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21
irritation
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| n.激怒，恼怒，生气 | |
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22
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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23
pendulum
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| n.摆，钟摆 | |
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24
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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25
metallic
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| adj.金属的；金属制的；含金属的；产金属的；像金属的 | |
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26
falter
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| vi.(嗓音)颤抖，结巴地说；犹豫；蹒跚 | |
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27
doom
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| n.厄运，劫数；v.注定，命定 | |
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28
wail
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| vt./vi.大声哀号，恸哭；呼啸，尖啸 | |
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29
expectancy
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| n.期望，预期，（根据概率统计求得）预期数额 | |
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30
hitched
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| （免费）搭乘他人之车( hitch的过去式和过去分词 )； 搭便车； 攀上； 跃上 | |
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31
sputtered
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| v.唾沫飞溅( sputter的过去式和过去分词 )；发劈啪声；喷出；飞溅出 | |
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32
pallid
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| adj.苍白的，呆板的 | |
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33
wrought
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| v.引起；以…原料制作；运转；adj.制造的 | |
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34
busted
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| adj. 破产了的，失败了的，被降级的，被逮捕的，被抓到的 动词bust的过去式和过去分词 | |
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35
specially
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| adv.特定地；特殊地；明确地 | |
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36
plumb
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| adv.精确地，完全地；v.了解意义，测水深 | |
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37
flop
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| n.失败(者)，扑通一声；vi.笨重地行动，沉重地落下 | |
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38
backwards
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| adv.往回地，向原处，倒，相反，前后倒置地 | |
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39
braces
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| n.吊带，背带；托架( brace的名词复数 )；箍子；括弧；（儿童）牙箍v.支住( brace的第三人称单数 )；撑牢；使自己站稳；振作起来 | |
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40
tug
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| v.用力拖(或拉)；苦干；n.拖；苦干；拖船 | |
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41
guffawed
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| v.大笑，狂笑( guffaw的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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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
heed
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| v.注意，留意；n.注意，留心 | |
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