The road wound ever upward through pines and spruce and several varieties of oak. Some of the latter were straight, some sprawling1, all massive. Now and then a break in the timber revealed wooded hills beyond green pasture lands, and other hills covered with dense2 growths of buckhorn and manzanita. Poison oak grew everywhere, and, at this time of year—early spring—was most prolific3, most beautiful in its dark rich green, most poisonous.
Occasionally the lone4 horseman crossed a riotous5 stream, plunging6 down from the snow-topped Sierras in the far distance. Rail fences, for the most part in a tumbledown condition, paralleled the dirt road here and there.
At long intervals7 they passed tall, old-fashioned ranch8 houses, with their accompanying stables, deciduous9 orchards10 and still dormant11 vineyards, wandering turkeys and mud-incrusted pigs. An air of decay and haphazard12 ambition pervaded13 all these evidences of the dwelling14 places of men.
"Well, Poche," remarked Oliver Drew, "it's been a long, hard trip, but we're getting close to home." The man spoke15 the word "home" with a touch of bitterness.
"No, no!" laughed Oliver, tightening17 the reins18. "All the more reason we should take it easy today, old horse. Don't you ever tire?"
For an hour Poche climbed steadily19. Now he topped the summit of the miniature mountain, and Oliver stopped him to gaze down fifteen hundred feet into the timbered cañon of the American River. Even the cow-pony seemed enthralled20 with the grandeur21 of the scene—the wooded hills climbing shelf by shelf to the faraway mist-hung mountains; the green river winding22 its serpentine23 course far below. Far up the river a gold dredger was at work, the low rumble24 of its machinery25 carried on the soft morning breeze.
Half an hour later Poche ambled26 briskly into the little town of Halfmoon Flat, snuggled away in the pines and spruces, sunflecked, indolent, content. It suited Oliver's mood, this lazy old-fashioned Halfmoon Flat, with its one shady "business" street, its false-front, one-story shops and stores, redolent still of the glamorous27 days of '49.
He drew up before a saloon to inquire after the road he should take out of town to reach his destination. The loungers about the door of the place all proved to be French- or Spanish-Basque sheep herders; and their agglutinative language was as a closed book to the traveler. So he dropped the reins from Poche's neck and entered the dark, low-ceiled bar-room, with its many decorations of dusty deer antlers on fly-specked walls.
All was strangely quiet within. There were no patrons, no bartender behind the black, stained bar. He saw this white-aproned personage, however, a fat, wide, sandy-haired man, standing28 framed by the rear door, his back toward the front. Through a dirty rear window Oliver saw men in the back yard—silent, motionless men, with faces intent on something of captivating interest, some silent, muscle-tensing event.
With awakened29 wonder he walked to the fat bartender's back and looked out over his shoulder. Strange indeed was the scene that was revealed.
Perhaps twenty men were in an unfenced portion of the lot behind the saloon. Some of them had been pitching horseshoes, for two stood with the iron semicircles still in hand. Every man there gazed with silent intensity30 at two central figures, who furnished the drama.
The first, a squat31, dark, slit-eyed man of about twenty-five, lazed in a big Western saddle on a lean roan horse. His left spurred heel stood straight out at right angles to the direction in which his horse faced. He hung in the saddle by the bend in his right leg, the foot out of the stirrup, the motionless man facing to the right, a leering grin on his face, half whimsical, half sardonic32. That he was a fatalist was evidenced by every line on his swarthy, hairless face; for he looked sneering33 indifference34 into the wavering muzzle35 of a Colt .45, in the hand of the other actor in the pantomime. His own Colt lay passive against his hip36. His right forearm rested across his thigh37, the hand far from the butt38 of the weapon. A cigarette drooped39 lazily from his grinning lips. Yet for all his indifferent calm, there was in his glittering, Mongolic eyes an eagle watchfulness40 that bespoke41 the fires of hatred42 within him.
The dismounted man who had the drop on him was of another type. Tall, angular, countrified, he personified the popular conception of a Connecticut yankee. He boiled with silent rage as he stood, with long body bent43 forward, threatening the other with his enormous gun. Despite the present superiority of his position, there was something of pathos44 in his lean, bronzed face, something of a nature downtrodden, of the worm suddenly turned.
For seconds that seemed like ages the two statuesque figures confronted each other. Men breathed in short inhalations, as if fearful of breaking the spell. Then the threatened man in the saddle puffed46 out a cloud of cigarette smoke, and drawled sarcastically47:
"Well, why don't you shoot, ol'-timer? You got the drop."
Complete indifference to his fate marked the squat man's tone and attitude. Only those small black eyes, gleaming like points of jet from under the lowered Chinamanlike lids, proclaimed that the other had better make a thorough piece of work of this thing that he had started.
"Why don't I shoot, you coyote whelp! Why don't I shoot! You know why! Because they's a law in this land, that's why! I oughta kill ye, an' everybody here knows it, but I'd hang for it."
The man on the roan blew another puff45 of smoke. "You oughta thought o' that when you threw down on me," he lazily reminded the other. "You ain't got no license49 packin' a gun, pardner."
The expression that crossed his antagonist's face was one of torture, bafflement. It proved that he knew the mounted man had spoken truth. He was no killer50. In a fit of rage he had drawn51 his weapon and got the drop on his enemy, only to shrink from the thought of taking a human life and from the consequences of such an act. But he essayed to bluster52 his way out of the situation in which his uncontrollable wrath53 had inveigled54 him.
"I can't shoot ye in cold blood!" he hotly cried. "I'm not the skunk55 that you are. I'm too much of a man. I'll let ye go this time. But mind me—if you or any o' your thievin' gang pesters56 me ag'in, I'll—I'll kill ye!"
"Better attend to that little business right now, pardner," came the fatalist's smooth admonition.
"Don't rile me too far!" fumed57 the other. "God knows I could kill ye an' never fear for the hereafter. But I'm a law-abidin' man, an'"—the six-shooter in his hand was wavering—"an' I'm a law-abidin' man," he repeated, floundering. "So this time I'll let ye—"
A fierce clatter58 of hoofs59 interrupted him. Down the street, across the board sidewalk, into the lot back of the saloon dashed a white horse, a black-haired girl astride in the saddle. She reined60 her horse to its haunches, scattering61 spectators right and left.
Her warning came too late. It may have been, even, that instead of a warning it was a knell63. For a loud report sent the echoes galloping64 through the sleepy little town. The man on the ground, who had half lowered his gun as the girl raced in, threw up both hands, and went reeling about drunkenly. Another shot rang out. The squat man still lolled in his saddle, facing to the right. The gun that he had drawn in a flash when the other's indecision had reached a climax65 was levelled rigidly66 from his hip, the muzzle slowly following his staggering, twice-wounded enemy.
In horror the watchers gazed, silent. The stricken man reeled against the legs of the girl's horse, strove to clasp them. The animal snorted at the smell of blood and reared. His temporary support removed, the man collapsed67, face downward, on the ground, turned over once, lay still.
The squat man slowly holstered his gun. Then the first sound to break the silence since the shots was his voice as he spoke to the girl.
"Much obliged, Jess'my," he said; then straightened in his saddle, spurred the roan, and dashed across the sidewalk to disappear around the corner of the building. A longdrawn, derisive68 "Hi-yi!" floated back, and the clatter of the roan's hoofbeats died away.
The girl had sprung from her mare69 and was bending over the fallen man. The others crowded about her now, all talking at once. She lifted a white, tragic70 face to them, a face so wildly beautiful that, even under the stress of the moment, Oliver Drew felt that sudden fierce pang71 of desire which the first startled sight of "the one woman" brings to a healthy, manly72 man.
"He's dead! I've killed him!" she cried.
"O' course not!" chorused a dozen.
"He'd 'a' lowered that gun," went on her first consoler. "He was backin' out when you come, Miss Jessamy. An' as sure as he'd took his gun off Digger Foss, Digger'd 'a' killed 'im. It was a fool business from the start, Miss Jessamy."
"Then why didn't some of you warn this man?" she flamed. "You cowards! Are you afraid of Digger Foss? Oh, I—"
"Now, looky-here, Miss Jessamy," soothed74 the spokesman, "bein' afraid o' Digger Foss ain't got anything to do with it. It wasn't our fight. We had no call to butt in. Men don't do that in a gun country, Miss Jessamy—you know that. This fella pulled on Digger, then lost his nerve. What you told 'im to do, Miss Jessamy, was right. Man ain't got no call to throw down on another one unless he intends to shoot. You know that, Miss Jessamy—you as much as said so."
For answer the girl burst into tears. She rose, and the silent men stood back for her. She mounted and rode away without another word, wiping fiercely at her eyes with a handkerchief.
Four men carried the dead man away. The rest, obviously in need of a stimulant75, crowded in and up to the black bar. Oliver joined them. The weird76 sight that he had witnessed had left him weak and sick at the stomach.
Silently the fat, blond bartender set out whisky glasses, then looked hesitatingly at the stranger.
"Go ahead, Swede," encouraged a big fellow at Oliver's left. "He needs one, too. He saw it."
"What was it all about?" Oliver, encouraged by this confidence, asked of the big, goodnatured man who had vouched79 for him on sight.
The other looked him over. "This fella Dodd," he said, "started something he couldn't finish—that's all. Dodd's had it in for Digger Foss and the Selden boys and some more of 'em for a year. Selden was runnin' cattle on Dodd's land, and Dodd claimed they cut fences to get 'em on. I don't know what all was between 'em. There's always bad blood between Old Man Selden and his boys and the rest o' the Poison Oakers, and somebody.
"Anyway," he went on, "this mornin' Henry Dodd comes in and gets the drop on Digger Foss, who's thick with the Seldens, and is one o' the Poison Oakers; and then Dodd ain't got the nerve to shoot. You saw what it cost him. Fill 'em up again, boys."
"I can't understand that girl," Oliver remarked. "Why, she rode in and told the man to shoot—to kill."
"And wasn't she right?"
"No—men wouldn't do that, I reckon. But a woman's different. They butt in for what they think's right, regardless. But I look at it like this, pardner: Dodd's a grown man and is packin' a hip gun. Why's he packin' it if he don't mean to use it? Only a kid ought to be excused from flourishin' iron like he did. He was just lettin' off steam. But he picked the wrong man to relieve himself on. If he'd 'a' killed Digger, as Miss Jessamy told him to, maybe he'd a hung for it. But he'd a had a chance with a jury. Where if he took his gat offen Digger Foss, it was sure death. I knew it; all of us knew it. And I knew he was goin' to lower it after he'd painted pictures in the air with it and thought he'd convinced all of us he was a bad man, and all that. He'd never pulled the trigger, and Digger Foss knew it."
"Then if this Digger Foss knew he was only bluffing81, he—why, he practically shot the man in cold blood!" cried Oliver.
"Not practically but ab-so-lutely. Digger knew he was within the law, as they say. While he knew Dodd wouldn't shoot, no prosecutin' attorney can prove that he knew it. Dodd had held a gun on him and threatened to kill 'im. When Digger gets the chance he takes it—makes his lightin' draw and kills Dodd. On the face of it it's self-defence, pure and simple, and Digger'll be acquitted82. He'll be in tonight and give himself up to the constable83. He knows just where he stands."
Oliver's informant tossed off his liquor.
"And Miss Jessamy knew all this—see?" he continued. "She savvies84 gunmen. She ought to, bein' a Selden. At least she calls herself a Selden, but her right name's Lomax. Old Man Selden married a widow, and this girl's her daughter. Well, she rides in and tells Dodd to shoot. She knew it was his life or Digger's, after he'd made that crack. But the poor fool!—Well, you saw what happened. Don't belong about here, do you, pardner?"
"I do now," Oliver returned. "I'm just moving in, as it were. I own forty acres down on Clinker Creek85. I came in here to inquire the way, and stumbled onto this tragedy."
"On Clinker Creek! What forty?"
"It's called the Old Tabor Ivison Place."
"Heavens above! You own the Old Tabor Ivison Place?"
"So the recorder's office says—or ought to."
For fully86 ten seconds the big fellow faced Oliver, his blue eyes studying him carefully, appraisingly87.
"Well, by thunder!" he muttered at last. "Tell me about it, pardner. My name's Damon Tamroy."
"Mine is Oliver Drew," said Oliver, offering his hand.
"Well, I'll be damned!" ejaculated Tamroy in a low voice, his eyes, wide with curiosity, devouring88 Oliver. "The Old Ivison Place!"
"You seem surprised."
"Surprised! Hump! Say—le'me tell you right here, pardner; don't you ever pull a gun on any o' the Poison Oakers and act like Henry Dodd did. Maybe it's well you saw what was pulled off today—if you'll only remember when you get down there on the Tabor Ivison Place."
点击收听单词发音
1 sprawling | |
adj.蔓生的,不规则地伸展的v.伸开四肢坐[躺]( sprawl的现在分词 );蔓延;杂乱无序地拓展;四肢伸展坐着(或躺着) | |
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2 dense | |
a.密集的,稠密的,浓密的;密度大的 | |
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3 prolific | |
adj.丰富的,大量的;多产的,富有创造力的 | |
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4 lone | |
adj.孤寂的,单独的;唯一的 | |
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5 riotous | |
adj.骚乱的;狂欢的 | |
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6 plunging | |
adj.跳进的,突进的v.颠簸( plunge的现在分词 );暴跌;骤降;突降 | |
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7 intervals | |
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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8 ranch | |
n.大牧场,大农场 | |
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9 deciduous | |
adj.非永久的;短暂的;脱落的;落叶的 | |
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10 orchards | |
(通常指围起来的)果园( orchard的名词复数 ) | |
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11 dormant | |
adj.暂停活动的;休眠的;潜伏的 | |
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12 haphazard | |
adj.无计划的,随意的,杂乱无章的 | |
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13 pervaded | |
v.遍及,弥漫( pervade的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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14 dwelling | |
n.住宅,住所,寓所 | |
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15 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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16 slanted | |
有偏见的; 倾斜的 | |
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17 tightening | |
上紧,固定,紧密 | |
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18 reins | |
感情,激情; 缰( rein的名词复数 ); 控制手段; 掌管; (成人带着幼儿走路以防其走失时用的)保护带 | |
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19 steadily | |
adv.稳定地;不变地;持续地 | |
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20 enthralled | |
迷住,吸引住( enthrall的过去式和过去分词 ); 使感到非常愉快 | |
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21 grandeur | |
n.伟大,崇高,宏伟,庄严,豪华 | |
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22 winding | |
n.绕,缠,绕组,线圈 | |
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23 serpentine | |
adj.蜿蜒的,弯曲的 | |
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24 rumble | |
n.隆隆声;吵嚷;v.隆隆响;低沉地说 | |
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25 machinery | |
n.(总称)机械,机器;机构 | |
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26 ambled | |
v.(马)缓行( amble的过去式和过去分词 );从容地走,漫步 | |
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27 glamorous | |
adj.富有魅力的;美丽动人的;令人向往的 | |
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28 standing | |
n.持续,地位;adj.永久的,不动的,直立的,不流动的 | |
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29 awakened | |
v.(使)醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 );(使)觉醒;弄醒;(使)意识到 | |
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30 intensity | |
n.强烈,剧烈;强度;烈度 | |
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31 squat | |
v.蹲坐,蹲下;n.蹲下;adj.矮胖的,粗矮的 | |
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32 sardonic | |
adj.嘲笑的,冷笑的,讥讽的 | |
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33 sneering | |
嘲笑的,轻蔑的 | |
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34 indifference | |
n.不感兴趣,不关心,冷淡,不在乎 | |
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35 muzzle | |
n.鼻口部;口套;枪(炮)口;vt.使缄默 | |
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36 hip | |
n.臀部,髋;屋脊 | |
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37 thigh | |
n.大腿;股骨 | |
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38 butt | |
n.笑柄;烟蒂;枪托;臀部;v.用头撞或顶 | |
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39 drooped | |
弯曲或下垂,发蔫( droop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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40 watchfulness | |
警惕,留心; 警觉(性) | |
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41 bespoke | |
adj.(产品)订做的;专做订货的v.预定( bespeak的过去式 );订(货);证明;预先请求 | |
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42 hatred | |
n.憎恶,憎恨,仇恨 | |
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43 bent | |
n.爱好,癖好;adj.弯的;决心的,一心的 | |
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44 pathos | |
n.哀婉,悲怆 | |
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45 puff | |
n.一口(气);一阵(风);v.喷气,喘气 | |
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46 puffed | |
adj.疏松的v.使喷出( puff的过去式和过去分词 );喷着汽(或烟)移动;吹嘘;吹捧 | |
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47 sarcastically | |
adv.挖苦地,讽刺地 | |
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48 lank | |
adj.瘦削的;稀疏的 | |
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49 license | |
n.执照,许可证,特许;v.许可,特许 | |
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50 killer | |
n.杀人者,杀人犯,杀手,屠杀者 | |
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51 drawn | |
v.拖,拉,拔出;adj.憔悴的,紧张的 | |
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52 bluster | |
v.猛刮;怒冲冲的说;n.吓唬,怒号;狂风声 | |
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53 wrath | |
n.愤怒,愤慨,暴怒 | |
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54 inveigled | |
v.诱骗,引诱( inveigle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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55 skunk | |
n.臭鼬,黄鼠狼;v.使惨败,使得零分;烂醉如泥 | |
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56 pesters | |
使烦恼,纠缠( pester的第三人称单数 ) | |
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57 fumed | |
愤怒( fume的过去式和过去分词 ); 大怒; 发怒; 冒烟 | |
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58 clatter | |
v./n.(使)发出连续而清脆的撞击声 | |
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59 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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60 reined | |
勒缰绳使(马)停步( rein的过去式和过去分词 ); 驾驭; 严格控制; 加强管理 | |
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61 scattering | |
n.[物]散射;散乱,分散;在媒介质中的散播adj.散乱的;分散在不同范围的;广泛扩散的;(选票)数量分散的v.散射(scatter的ing形式);散布;驱散 | |
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62 shrieked | |
v.尖叫( shriek的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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63 knell | |
n.丧钟声;v.敲丧钟 | |
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64 galloping | |
adj. 飞驰的, 急性的 动词gallop的现在分词形式 | |
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65 climax | |
n.顶点;高潮;v.(使)达到顶点 | |
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66 rigidly | |
adv.刻板地,僵化地 | |
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67 collapsed | |
adj.倒塌的 | |
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68 derisive | |
adj.嘲弄的 | |
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69 mare | |
n.母马,母驴 | |
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70 tragic | |
adj.悲剧的,悲剧性的,悲惨的 | |
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71 pang | |
n.剧痛,悲痛,苦闷 | |
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72 manly | |
adj.有男子气概的;adv.男子般地,果断地 | |
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73 hoarse | |
adj.嘶哑的,沙哑的 | |
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74 soothed | |
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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75 stimulant | |
n.刺激物,兴奋剂 | |
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76 weird | |
adj.古怪的,离奇的;怪诞的,神秘而可怕的 | |
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77 shrugged | |
vt.耸肩(shrug的过去式与过去分词形式) | |
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78 thumped | |
v.重击, (指心脏)急速跳动( thump的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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79 vouched | |
v.保证( vouch的过去式和过去分词 );担保;确定;确定地说 | |
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80 pointed | |
adj.尖的,直截了当的 | |
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81 bluffing | |
n. 威吓,唬人 动词bluff的现在分词形式 | |
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82 acquitted | |
宣判…无罪( acquit的过去式和过去分词 ); 使(自己)作出某种表现 | |
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83 constable | |
n.(英国)警察,警官 | |
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84 savvies | |
v.知道,了解( savvy的第三人称单数 ) | |
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85 creek | |
n.小溪,小河,小湾 | |
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86 fully | |
adv.完全地,全部地,彻底地;充分地 | |
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87 appraisingly | |
adv.以品评或评价的眼光 | |
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88 devouring | |
吞没( devour的现在分词 ); 耗尽; 津津有味地看; 狼吞虎咽地吃光 | |
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