The tale halted. To be defeated is one thing; to be forced to confess defeat is another. Uncle Bill determined2 on the bitterer alternative.
"He made a clean fight," declared Uncle Bill. "First he cussed me out proper. Then he went for his gat and he beat me to the draw. They ain't no disgrace to that. You'll learn pretty soon that anybody might get beaten sooner or later—if he fights enough men. And my gun hung in the leather. Before I got it on him he'd shot me clean through the right shoulder—a placed shot, boys. He wanted to land me there. It tumbled me off my hoss. I rolled away and tried to get to my gun that had fallen on the ground. He shot me ag'in through the leg and stopped me.
"Then he got off his hoss and fixed3 up the wounds. He done a good job, as you seen. 'Bill' says he, 'you ain't dead; you're worse'n dead. That right arm of yours is going to be stiff the rest of your days. You're a one-armed man from now on, and that one arm is the worst you got.'
"That was why he sent me home alive. To make me live and keep hating him, the same's he'd lived and hated me. But he made a mistake. Pete Reeve is a wise fox, but he made one mistake. He forgot that I might have somebody to send on his trail. He didn't know that I had two boys I'd raised so's they was each better with a gun nor me. He didn't dream of that, curse him! But when you, Harry4, or you, Joe, pump the lead into him, shoot him so's he'll live long enough to know who killed him and why!"
As he spoke5, there was a quality in his voice that seemed to find the boys in the darkness and point each of them out. "Which of you takes the trail?"
A little silence followed. Bull wondered at it.
"He's gone by way of Johnstown," continued the wounded man. "If one of you cuts across the summit toward Shantung he's pretty sure to cut in across Pete's trail. Which is goin' to start? Well, you can match for the chance! Because him that comes back with Pete Reeve marked off the slate6 is a man!"
That chilly7 little silence made Bull's heart beat. To be called a man, to be praised by stern Bill Campbell—surely these were things to make anyone risk death!
"Is that the Pete Reeve," said Harry's voice, "that shot up Mike
Rivers over the hill to the Tompkins place, about four year back?"
"That's him. Why?"
Again the silence. Then Bull heard the old man cursing softly—meditatively, one might almost have said.
"Cut across for Johnstown," said Joe softly, "in a storm like this? They won't be no trails left to find above the timberline. It'd be sure death. Listen!"
There was a lull8 in the wind, and in the breeze that was left, they could hear the whisper of the snow crushing steadily9 against the window.
"It's heavy fall, right enough," declared Harry.
"And this Pete Reeve—why, he's a gunfighter, Dad."
"And what are you?" asked the old man. "Ain't I labored10 and slaved all my life to make you handy with guns? What for d'you think I wasted all them hours showin' you how to pull a trigger and where to shoot and how to get a gun out of the leather?"
"To kill for meat," suggested Harry.
"Meat, nothing! The kind of meat I mean walks on two feet and fights back."
"Maybe, if we started together—" ventured Joe.
His father broke in, "Boy, I ain't going to send out a pack of men to run down Pete Reeve. He met me single and he fought me clean, and he's going to be pulled down by no pack of yaller dogs! Go one of you alone or else both of you stay here."
He waited, but there was no response. "Is this the way my blood is showin' up in my sons? Is this the result of all my trainin'?"
After that there was no more talk. The long silence was not broken by even the sound of breathing until someone began to snore. Then Bull knew that the sleep of the night had settled down.
He lay with his hands folded behind his head, thinking. They were willing enough to go together to do this difficult thing. But had they not lifted together at the stump11 and failed to do the thing which he had done single-handed? That thought stuck in his memory and would not out. And suppose he, Bull, were to accomplish this great feat1 and return to the shack12? Would not Bill Campbell feel doubly repaid for the living he had furnished for his nephew? More than once the grim old man had cursed the luck that saddled him with a stupid incubus13. But the curses would turn to compliments if Bull left this little man, this catlike and dangerous fighter, this Pete Reeve, dead on the trail.
Not that all this was clear in the mind of Bull, but he felt something like a command pushing him on that difficult south trail, through the storm and the snow that would now be piling above the timberline. He waited until there was no noise but the snoring of the sleepers14 and the rush and roar of the wind which continually set something stirring in the room. These sounds served to cover effectually any noises he made as he felt about and made up his small pack. His old canvas coat, his most treasured article of apparel, he took down from the hook where it accumulated dust from month to month. His ancient, secondhand cartridge15 belt with the antiquated17 revolver he removed from another hook—he had never been given enough ammunition18 to become a shot of any quality—and he pushed quickly into the night.
The moment he was through the door, the storm caught him in the face a stinging blow, and the rush of snow chilled his skin. That stinging blow steadied to a blast. It was a tremendous, heavy fall. The wind had scoured19 the drifts from the clearing and was already banking21 them around the little house. In the morning, as like as not, the boys would have to dig their way out.
He went straight to the horse shed for his snowshoes that hung on the wall there. Ordinary snowshoes would not endure his ponderous22 weight, and Uncle Bill Campbell had fashioned these himself, heavy and uncomfortable articles, but capable of enduring the strain.
Fumbling23 his way down behind the stalls, Bill's roan lashed24 out at him with savage25 heels; but Maggie, the old draft horse, whinnied softly, greeting that familiar heavy step. He tied the snowshoes on his back and then stopped for a last word to Maggie. She raised her head and dropped it clumsily on his shoulder. She was among the little, agile26 mountain ponies27 what he was among men, and their bulk had rendered each of them more or less helpless. There seemed to be a mute understanding between them, and it was never more apparent than when Maggie whinnied gently in his ear. He stroked her big, bony head, a lump forming in his throat. If the bullets of little Pete Reeve dropped him in some far-off trail, the old-broken-down horse would be the only living creature that would mourn for him.
Outside, the night and the storm swallowed him at once. Before he had gone fifty feet the house was out of sight. Then, entering the forest of balsam firs, the force of the wind was lessened28, and he made good time up the first part of the grade. There would probably be no use for the snowshoes in this region of broken shrubbery before he came to the timberline.
He swept on with a lengthening29 stride. He knew this part of the country like a book, of course, and he seldom stumbled, save when he came out into a clearing and the wind smote30 at him from an unexpected angle. In one of these clearings he stopped and took stock of his position. Far away to the west and the south, the head of Scalped Mountain was lost in dim, rushing clouds. He must make for that goal.
Progress became less easy almost at once. The trees that grew in this elevated region were not tall enough to act as wind breaks; they were hardly more than shrubs31 a great deal of the time, and merely served to force him into detours32 around dense33 hedges. Sometimes, in a clearing, he found himself staggering to the knees in a compacted drift of snow; sometimes an immense sheet of snow was picked up by the wind and flung in his face like a blanket.
Indeed the cold and the snow were nothing compared with the wind. It was now reaching the proportions of a westerly storm of the first magnitude. Off the towering slopes above, it came with the chill of the snow and with flying bits of sand, scooped34 up from around the base of trees, or with a shower of twigs35. Many a time he had to throw up his arms across his face before he leaned and thrust on into the teeth of the blast.
But he was growing accustomed to seeing through this veil of snow and thick darkness. All things were dreamlike in dimness, of course, but he could make out terrific cloud effects, as the clouds gushed36 over the summit and down the slope a little way like the smoke of enormous guns; and again a pyramid of mist was like a false mountain before him, a mountain that took on movement and rushed to overwhelm him, only to melt away and become simply a shadow among shadows above his head.
Once or twice before the dawn, he rested, not from weariness perhaps, but from lack of breath, turning his back to the west and bowing his head. Walking into the wind it had become positively37 difficult to draw breath!
Still it gained power incredibly. Up the side of Scalped Mountain it was a steady weight pressing against him rather than a wind. And now and then, when the weight relaxed, he stumbled forward on his knees. For there was now hardly any shelter. He was approaching the timberline where trees stand as high as a man and little higher.
Dawn found him at the edge of the tree line. He flung himself on his face, his head on his arms, to rest and wait until the treacherous38 time of dawn should have passed. While the day grew steadily his heart sank. He needed the rest, but the cold bit into him while he lay extended, and the peril39 of the summit would be before him for his march of the day. The wind mourned over him as if it anticipated his defeat. Never had there been such wind, he thought. It screamed above him. It dropped away in sudden lulls40 of more appalling41 silence. Then, far off, he would hear a wave of the storm begin, wash across a crest42, thunder in a canyon43, and then break on the timberline with a prolonged and mighty44 roaring. Those giant approaches made him hold his breath, and when the wave of confusion passed, he found himself often breathless.
Day came. He was on the very verge45 of the line with a dense fence of stunted46 trees just before him and the wilderness47 of snow beyond, sloping up to the crest, outlined in white against the solid gray sky. The Spartans48 of the forest were around him—fir, pine, spruce, birch, and trembling little aspens up there among the stoutest49. All were of one height, clean-shaven by the volleys of the wind-driven sand and pebbles50 that clipped off any treetop that aspired51 above the mass. In solid numbers was their salvation52, and they grew dense as grass, two feet high on the battlefront. They were carved by that wind, for all storms came here out of the west, and the storm face of every tree was denuded53 of branches. To the east the foliage54 streamed away. Even in calm weather those trees spoke of storm.
Bull Hunter sat up to put on his snowshoes. It was a white world below him and above. Winter, which a day before had vanished, now came back with a rush off the summits, where its snows were still piled. Again the heart of the big man quaked. Down in the hollow, over that ridge16, was the house of the Campbells. They would be getting up now. Joe would be making the fire, and Harry slicing the bacon. It made a cheerful picture to Bull. He could close his eyes and hear the fire snap and see the stove steam with smoke through every fissure55 before the draft caught in the chimney. From the shed came the neigh of Maggie, calling softly to him.
He shook his head with a groan56, stood up, and strode out of the timber into the summit lands. It was a great desert. Never could it be construed57 as a place for life. Even lichens58 were almost out of place here, and what folly59 could lead a man across the shifting snows? But to be called a man, to be admired in silence, to be asked for opinions, to be deferred60 to—this was a treasure worth any price! He bowed himself to the wind again and made for the summit with the peculiar61 stride which a man must use with snowshoes.
He dared not slacken his efforts now. The cold had been increasing, and to pause meant peril of freezing. It was a highly electrified62 air, and the result was a series of maddening mirages63. He stumbled over solid rocks where nothing seemed to be in his way; and again what seemed a rock of huge size was nothing at all. Bull discovered that what seemed firm ground beneath him, as he started to round a precipice65, might after all be the effect of the mirage64.
Added to this was another difficulty. As he wound slowly, about midday, up the last reach, with the summit just above him, the wind carried masses of cloud over the crest and into his face. He walked alternately in a bewildering, driving fog and then in an air made crazy with electricity. Again and again, from one side or the other, he started when the storm boomed and cannonaded down a ravine and then belched66 out into the open. All this time the babel of the winds overhead never ceased, and the force of the storm cut up under him with such violence that he was almost raised from the earth.
Then an unexpected barrier obtruded—a literal mountain of ice was before him. The snow of the recent fall had been whipped away, and the surface of the mountain, here perilously67 steep, was now sleek68 and solid with ice. Bull looked gloomily toward the summit so close above him, and the ice glimmered69 in the dull light. There was only one way to make even the attempt. He sat down, took off his snowshoes, strapped70 them to his back, and began to work his way up the slope, battering71 out each foothold with the head of his ax. It was possible to ascend72 in this manner, but it would be practically impossible to descend73.
Once committed to this way, he had either to go on to the summit, or else perish. Working slowly, with little possible muscular exercise to warm him, he began to grow chilled and the wind-driven cold numbed74 his ears. But, more than that, the wind was now a grim peril, for, from time to time, it swerved75 and leaped on him heavily from the side. Once, off balance, he looked back at the dazzling slope below him. He would be a shapeless mass of flesh long before he tumbled to the bottom.
Vaguely76, as he hewed77 his footholds and worked his way up, he yearned78 for the cleverness of Harry or the wit of Joe. What an ally either of them would be! That he was undertaking79 a task from which either of them would have shrunk in horror never occurred to him. Yonder, beyond the summit, lay his destiny—Johnstown—and this was the way toward it; it was a simple thing to Bull. He could no more vary from his course than a magnetic needle can vary from its pole.
Suddenly he came on a break in the solid face of the ice. Above him was a narrow rift20 through the ice to the gravel80 beneath; how it was made, Bull could not guess. But he took advantage of it. Presently he was striding on toward the summit, beating his hands to restore the circulation and gingerly rubbing his ears.
There was a magical change as he reached the summit and sat down behind some rocks to regain81 his breath and quiet his shaken nerves. The clouds split apart in the zenith; the sun burst through; on both sides the broad mountain billowed away to white lowlands; the air was alive with little, brilliant spots of electricity.
It cheered Bull Hunter vastly. The gale82, which was tumbling the clouds down the arch of the sky and toward the east, was more mighty than ever, but he put his head down to it confidently and began the descent.
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1
feat
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| n.功绩；武艺，技艺；adj.灵巧的，漂亮的，合适的 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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harry
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| vt.掠夺，蹂躏，使苦恼 | |
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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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slate
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| n.板岩，石板，石片，石板色，候选人名单；adj.暗蓝灰色的，含板岩的；vt.用石板覆盖，痛打，提名，预订 | |
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7
chilly
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| adj.凉快的，寒冷的 | |
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lull
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| v.使安静，使入睡，缓和，哄骗；n.暂停，间歇 | |
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steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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labored
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| adj.吃力的，谨慎的v.努力争取(for)( labor的过去式和过去分词 )；苦干；详细分析；（指引擎）缓慢而困难地运转 | |
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11
stump
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| n.残株，烟蒂，讲演台；v.砍断，蹒跚而走 | |
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12
shack
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| adj.简陋的小屋，窝棚 | |
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incubus
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| n.负担；恶梦 | |
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sleepers
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| n.卧铺（通常以复数形式出现）；卧车( sleeper的名词复数 )；轨枕；睡觉（呈某种状态）的人；小耳环 | |
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15
cartridge
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| n.弹壳，弹药筒；(装磁带等的)盒子 | |
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ridge
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| n.山脊；鼻梁；分水岭 | |
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antiquated
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| adj.陈旧的，过时的 | |
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ammunition
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| n.军火，弹药 | |
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scoured
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| 走遍（某地）搜寻（人或物）( scour的过去式和过去分词 )； （用力）刷； 擦净； 擦亮 | |
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rift
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| n.裂口，隙缝，切口；v.裂开，割开，渗入 | |
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banking
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| n.银行业，银行学，金融业 | |
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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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fumbling
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| n. 摸索,漏接 v. 摸索,摸弄,笨拙的处理 | |
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24
lashed
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| adj.具睫毛的v.鞭打( lash的过去式和过去分词 )；煽动；紧系；怒斥 | |
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savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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agile
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| adj.敏捷的，灵活的 | |
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ponies
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| 矮种马，小型马( pony的名词复数 )； ￡25 25 英镑 | |
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lessened
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| 减少的，减弱的 | |
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lengthening
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| （时间或空间）延长，伸长( lengthen的现在分词 )； 加长 | |
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30
smote
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| v.猛打，重击，打击( smite的过去式 ) | |
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shrubs
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| 灌木( shrub的名词复数 ) | |
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detours
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| 绕行的路( detour的名词复数 )； 绕道，兜圈子 | |
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dense
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| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
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scooped
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| v.抢先报道( scoop的过去式和过去分词 )；（敏捷地）抱起；抢先获得；用铲[勺]等挖（洞等） | |
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35
twigs
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| 细枝，嫩枝( twig的名词复数 ) | |
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36
gushed
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| v.喷，涌( gush的过去式和过去分词 )；滔滔不绝地说话 | |
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37
positively
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| adv.明确地，断然，坚决地；实在，确实 | |
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38
treacherous
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| adj.不可靠的，有暗藏的危险的；adj.背叛的，背信弃义的 | |
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peril
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| n.(严重的)危险；危险的事物 | |
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40
lulls
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| n.间歇期（lull的复数形式）vt.使镇静，使安静（lull的第三人称单数形式） | |
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41
appalling
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| adj.骇人听闻的，令人震惊的，可怕的 | |
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42
crest
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| n.顶点；饰章；羽冠；vt.达到顶点；vi.形成浪尖 | |
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43
canyon
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| n.峡谷，溪谷 | |
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44
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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45
verge
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| n.边，边缘；v.接近，濒临 | |
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46
stunted
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| adj.矮小的；发育迟缓的 | |
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47
wilderness
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| n.杳无人烟的一片陆地、水等，荒漠 | |
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48
spartans
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| n.斯巴达（spartan的复数形式） | |
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49
stoutest
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| 粗壮的( stout的最高级 )； 结实的； 坚固的； 坚定的 | |
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50
pebbles
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| [复数]鹅卵石； 沙砾； 卵石，小圆石( pebble的名词复数 ) | |
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51
aspired
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| v.渴望，追求( aspire的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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52
salvation
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| n.（尤指基督）救世，超度，拯救，解困 | |
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53
denuded
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| adj.[医]变光的，裸露的v.使赤裸( denude的过去式和过去分词 )；剥光覆盖物 | |
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54
foliage
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| n.叶子，树叶，簇叶 | |
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55
fissure
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| n.裂缝；裂伤 | |
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56
groan
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| vi./n.呻吟，抱怨；(发出)呻吟般的声音 | |
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57
construed
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| v.解释（陈述、行为等）( construe的过去式和过去分词 )；翻译，作句法分析 | |
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58
lichens
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| n.地衣( lichen的名词复数 ) | |
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59
folly
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| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
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60
deferred
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| adj.延期的，缓召的v.拖延，延缓，推迟( defer的过去式和过去分词 )；服从某人的意愿，遵从 | |
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61
peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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62
electrified
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| v.使电气化( electrify的过去式和过去分词 )；使兴奋 | |
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63
mirages
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| n.海市蜃楼，幻景( mirage的名词复数 ) | |
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mirage
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| n.海市蜃楼，幻景 | |
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65
precipice
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| n.悬崖，危急的处境 | |
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66
belched
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| v.打嗝( belch的过去式和过去分词 )；喷出，吐出；打（嗝）；嗳（气） | |
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67
perilously
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| adv.充满危险地，危机四伏地 | |
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68
sleek
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| adj.光滑的，井然有序的；v.使光滑，梳拢 | |
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69
glimmered
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| v.发闪光，发微光( glimmer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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70
strapped
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| adj.用皮带捆住的，用皮带装饰的；身无分文的；缺钱；手头紧v.用皮带捆扎(strap的过去式和过去分词)；用皮带抽打；包扎；给…打绷带 | |
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71
battering
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| n.用坏，损坏v.连续猛击( batter的现在分词 ) | |
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72
ascend
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| vi.渐渐上升，升高；vt.攀登，登上 | |
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descend
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| vt./vi.传下来，下来，下降 | |
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74
numbed
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| v.使麻木，使麻痹( numb的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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swerved
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| v.（使）改变方向，改变目的( swerve的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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76
vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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77
hewed
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| v.（用斧、刀等）砍、劈( hew的过去式和过去分词 )；砍成；劈出；开辟 | |
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78
yearned
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| 渴望，切盼，向往( yearn的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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undertaking
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| n.保证，许诺，事业 | |
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80
gravel
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| n.砂跞；砂砾层；结石 | |
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81
regain
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| vt.重新获得，收复，恢复 | |
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82
gale
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| n.大风，强风，一阵闹声（尤指笑声等） | |
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