Billy whistled. "Gosh! you're gettin' kind all at once, Anse," he exclaimed.
"I don't mind doin' it," Anse repeated. He kept his face averted2. Billy, scenting3 mystery, walked over to him and swung him about. Anson's lip was swollen5 and one eye was partly closed and his freckled6 face bore the marks of recent conflict.
"Gee7 whitticker!" gasped9 Billy, "you must been havin' an argument with a mule10. Who give you that black eye an' split lip, Anse?"
His brother hung his head. "You needn't go to rubbin' it in," he whined11; "I didn't have no chance with him. He piled on me from behind, when I wasn't lookin'."
"Who piled on you from behind?"
"That new boy; his name's Jim Scroggie. His dad's rented the Stanley house on the hill."
"Likely story that about his pilin' on you from behind," scoffed12 Billy. "You met him on the path an' tried to get gay with him, more like, an' he pasted you a few. You shouldn't hunt trouble, Anse; you can't fight, an' you know it. What's this new boy like?" he asked curiously13.
"Oh, you'll find that out soon enough," promised Anson. "He told me to tell you that he would do the same thing to you first chance he got."
"Oh, no, he didn't neither," laughed Billy. "He can't be that foolish."
"You wait till you size him up," said Anson. "He's taller'n you are an' heavier, too. Oh, you'll have your hands full when he tackles you, Mister Scrapper-Bill."
Billy pinched off a fox-tail stock and chewed it thoughtfully. "Maybe," he said, cheerfully. "He certainly tapped you some, but then you're always huntin' trouble, an' it serves you right."
"Listen to me!" Anson cried. "He made all the trouble, I tell you. All I did was tell him not to throw clubs at Ringdo—"
"What! Was he throwin' clubs at my coon?" Billy shouted.
"You bet he was. Had Ringdo up a tree an' was doin' his best to knock him out."
Billy spit out the fox-tail. "Where's this feller Scroggie now?" he asked, in a business-like tone.
"I dunno. I s'pose he's prowlin' 'round the beech14 grove15, up there. He said he intended lickin' every boy in this settlement on sight. You best not go lookin' fer him, Bill. I don't want'a see you get beat up on my account."
"Well you needn't worry; if I get beat up it won't be on your account, I kin1 tell you that. I don't aim to let anybody throw clubs at my pets, though. You drive the cattle on down; I'm goin' up to the grove."
A gleam of satisfaction lit Anson's shifty eyes. "All right," he said shortly, and went off after the herd16.
Billy climbed the rail fence and crossed the basswood swale to the highland17. He approached the beech grove cautiously and peered about him. Seated on a log at the lower end of a grassy18 glade19 was a boy about his own age, a boy with round, bullet head poised20 on a thick neck set between square shoulders.
Billy, taking his measure with one fleeting21 glance, stepped out from the trees. Simultaneously22 the strange boy rose slowly, head lowered, fists clenched23. There was nothing antagonistic24 in Billy's attitude as he surveyed the new boy with serious grey eyes. That expression had fooled more than one competitor in fistic combat, and it fooled Jim Scroggie now. "He's scared stiff," was the new boy's thought, as he swaggered forward to where Billy stood.
"I've been waitin' for you and now I'm goin' to lick you," he said.
Billy eyed him appraisingly25. He did look like a tough proposition, no doubt about that. His face was round, flat, small-featured. "That face'll stand a lot of pummelin'," Billy told himself, and as he noted26 the heavy chin, thrust antagonistically27 forward, "no use bruisin' my knuckles28 on that," he decided29.
Billy grinned. He had caught the gasp8 at the end of the speaker's words; now he knew where lay the stranger's weak spot—his wind!
"But I ain't wantin' to fight," Billy returned gently.
"Why? scared?"
"Nice boys don't fight." Billy shifted his feet uneasily, the movement bringing him a step or two closer to the other.
"Bah! mommie's baby boy won't fight?" taunted31 the eager one. "But by gollies! I'm goin' to make you," he added, scowling32 fiercely.
Billy wanted to laugh, but he was too good a ring-general to give way to his feelings. Instead, he shifted his feet again, thereby33 getting within reaching distance of the one so anxious for battle.
"Now, then," declared Scroggie, tossing his hat on the sward and drying his moist palms on his trouser-legs, "I'm goin' to black your eyes and pummel the nose off your face."
The last word was drowned in a resounding34 "smack35." Billy had delivered one of his lightning, straight-arm punches fair on the sneering36 lips of the new boy. Scroggie staggered back, recovered his balance, and threw himself on the defensive37 in time to block Billy's well-aimed right to the neck.
"So that's your game, is it?" he grunted38. "Here's a new one for you then." That "new one" was a veritable "hay-maker." Had it landed where it was intended to land the fight must have ended then and there. But it didn't. Billy saw it coming and ducked.
Scroggie rushed, managing to get in a stiff jab to Billy's body and receiving in return one which promptly39 closed one of his small optics. He struck out wildly, but Billy was prancing40 six feet away. Scroggie's swollen and bleeding mouth twisted in a grin. "Oh, I'll get you," he promised. "Stall if you want'a, it's all one to me. You won't find me sleepin' again, I promise you."
Billy advanced in a crouching41 attitude. His eyes were on Scroggie's uninjured eye and Scroggie, now grown wary42, read that look as Billy intended he should. Older fighters have made the same mistake that Scroggie made. As Billy leaped in Scroggie raised his guard to his face and Billy's right and left thudded home to the flabby stomach of his adversary43.
With a gasp Scroggie went to earth, where he lay writhing44. After a time he struggled to a sitting posture45.
"Got enough?" asked Billy pleasantly.
The vanquished46 one nodded. He had not as yet recovered his breath sufficiently47 to speak. When at last he was able to draw a full breath, he said: "Say, you trimmed me all right, all right."
Billy grinned.
"I'm the feller that owns the coon you tried to club to death," Billy answered.
Scroggie's mouth fell open in surprise. "I didn't try to kill any coon," he denied. "I saw one but it wasn't me that clubbed it; it was a tall, sandy-haired feller with a squint49 eye. I asked him what he was tryin' to do and he told me to dry up and mind my own business. I had to give him a lickin'. He went off blubberin'; said if I wasn't too scared to stick around he'd send a feller over who would fix me. So I stayed."
"I wish you had licked him harder 'n you did," frowned Billy.
"Know him?"
"Well, I do—an' I don't. He's my half-brother an' a sneak50 if ever there was one. He lied about you to me—so's I'd fight you."
"And what's your name?"
"Billy Wilson."
Scroggie stared. "I've heard of you," he said, "an' the feller who told me you could lick your weight in wildcats wasn't far wrong. You had me fooled, though," he laughed. "I swallowed what you said about nice boys not fightin', swallowed it whole. Oh, Moses!"
"No, I'm willin' to shake." Scroggie extended his hand.
"Your name's Scroggie, ain't it?" Billy asked.
"Yep, Jim Scroggie."
"Your Dad's goin' to cut down the Scroggie woods, I hear?"
"Yep, if he can get his price for the timber."
Billy sat looking away. His grey eyes had grown somber53. "See here," he said suddenly, "do you know that old man Scroggie left a will?"
"Dad says not," the other boy replied.
"Well, then, he did; an' in that will he left his woods an' money to Mr. Stanhope, my teacher."
"If that's so, Dad has no right to that woods," said Jim.
"But supposin' the will can't be found?" Billy looked the other boy in the face and waited for the answer.
"Why, I can't see that that ought'a make any difference," Scroggie replied. "If you folks down here know that Uncle left his money and place to your teacher, that ought'a be enough for Dad."
"Of course the timber's worth a lot," sparred Billy.
"But Dad don't need it," Jim declared. "He's rich now."
"He is?" Billy respected the new boy for the nonchalance54 of his tones. Riches hadn't made him stuck up, at any rate.
"Yep," went on Scroggie, "Dad owns some big oil wells in the States. He ain't got any business down here anyways, but he's so pig-headed you can't tell him anythin'; I'll say that much, even if he is my father. It's bad enough for him to lug55 me away from town, but he made Lou come along, too."
"Lou?"
"She's my sister," Jim explained proudly. "She's a year younger'n me. Dad says she looks just like Mother looked. I guess that's the reason she kin do most anythin' she likes with him. But she couldn't get him to let her stay in Cleveland. He brought her along and Aunt too. Aunt keeps house for us."
"I guess your Dad don't think much of us folks down here, does he?" Billy asked.
Scroggie chuckled56. "Dad ain't got any use for anybody, much," he answered. "I never heard him say anythin' about any of the people of the Settlement but once, and that was just t'other night. He come home lookin' as if somebody had pushed his head into a crate57 of eggs. I was too scared to ask him how it happened and Lou wouldn't. Dad said the people 'round here are a bad lot and it wouldn't surprise him if they tried to kill him."
Billy threw back his head and laughed, the first hearty58 laugh he had known for days. Scroggie, in spite of the pain his swollen lips caused him, laughed too.
"Say," he remarked, hesitatingly, "you got a great laugh, Billy."
"Oh I don't know," Billy replied. "What makes you think so, Jim?" Scroggie sat down beside him on the log. "I had a chum in the city who laughed just like you do. Gosh, nobody'll know how much I miss him."
"Dead?"
Scroggie nodded. "Drowned through an air-hole in the lake. Say, Billy, do you skate?"
"Some."
"Swim?"
"A little."
"Shoot?"
Billy scratched his head reflectively. "Not much, any more," he said. "Course I like duck-shootin', an' do quite a lot of it in the fall."
"I don't shoot quail any more," Billy answered. "I've got to know 'em too well, I guess. You see," in answer to the other boy's look of surprise, "when a feller gets to know what chummy, friendly little beggars they are, he don't feel like shootin' 'em."
"But they're wild, ain't they and they're game birds?"
"They're wild if you make 'em wild, but if they get to know that you like 'em an' won't hurt 'em, they get real tame. I've got one flock I call my own. I fed 'em last winter when the snow was so deep they couldn't pick up a livin'. They used to come right into our barn-yard for the tailin's I throwed out to 'em."
"What's tailin's?"
"It's the chaff60 and small wheat the fannin' mill blows out from the good grain. Pa lets me have it fer my wild birds. I've got some partridge up on the hickory knoll61, too. They're shyer than the quail, but I've got 'em so tame I kin call 'em and make 'em come to me."
"You kin?" Jim exclaimed. "Well, I'll be razzle-dazzled!"
"So, I don't shoot partridge neither," said Billy. "I don't blame anybody else fer shootin' 'em, remember, but somehow, I'd rather leave 'em alive."
"I see," said Scroggie. Of course he didn't, but he wanted to make Billy feel that he did.
"Well you do more than most people, then," said Billy. "The folks 'round here think I'm crazy, I guess, an' Joe Scraff—he's got an English setter dog an' shoots a lot; he told me that if he happened onto my quail an' partridge he'd bag as many of 'em as he could. I told him that if he shot my birds, he'd better watch out fer his white Leghorn chickens but he laughed at me."
"And did he shoot your quail?" asked Scroggie.
Billy nodded. "Once. Flushed 'em at the top of the knoll and winged one bird. The rest of the covey flew into our barn-yard an' 'course he couldn't foller 'em in there."
"Gillies! Did you see him?"
"No, me an' Pa an' Anse was down at the back end of the place. Ma saw him, though, an' she told me all about it. Say, maybe I wasn't mad, but I got even, all right."
"Did you? How?"
Billy looked searchingly at his new friend. "I never told a soul how I did it, 'cept my chum, Maurice Keeler," he said. "But I'll tell you. That same evenin' I was prowlin' through the slashin' lookin' fer white grubs fer bass-bait. I found a big rotten stump, so I pushed it over, an' right down under the roots I found an old weasel an' six half-grown kittens. Afore she could get over her surprise, I had her an' her family in the tin pail I had with me, an' the cover on. By rights I should'a killed the whole caboodle of 'em, I s'pose, 'cause they're mighty62 hard on the birds; but I had work fer 'em to do.
"That night I took them weasels over to Scraff's an' turned 'em loose under his barn. I knowed mighty well ma weasel would stay where it was dark an' safe and the chicken smell was so strong. Couple of days after that Scraff come over to our place to borrow some rat traps. His face was so long he was fair steppin' on his lower lip. He said weasels had been slaughterin' his Leghorns, right an' left; six first night an' nine the next.
"'I hope they won't get among my quail,' I says, an' Scraff he turned round an' looked at me mighty hard, but he didn't say nuthin'. He went away, grumblin', an' carryin' six of Dad's traps. Course I knowed he couldn't catch a weasel in a trap in twenty years an' he didn't catch any either. Ma weasel killed some more of his Leghorns, an' then Scraff he comes to me. 'Billy,' he says, 'is there any way to get rid of weasels?' 'Sure there's a way,' I says, 'but not everybody knows it.'
"'I'll give you five dollars if you'll catch them weasels that are killin' my chickens,' he says.
"'If you'll promise me you'll stay away from my quail an' partridge I'll catch 'em fer nuthin,' I told him. 'Only,' I says, 'remember, I do what I please with 'em, after I get 'em.' He looked at me as though he'd like to choke me, but he said all right, he'd leave my birds alone.
"That night Maurice Keeler an' me went over to Gamble's an' borrowed his old ferret. He's a big ferret an' he'll tackle anythin', even a skunk63. With some keg-hoops an' a canvas sack we had made what we needed to catch the weasels in. Then we put a muzzle65 on the ferret, so he couldn't fang-cut the weasels, an' we went over to Scraff's. As soon as Joe Scraff saw the ferret he began to see light an' turned into the house to get his shotgun. I told him to remember his promise to let me get the weasels alive, so he set on the fence an' watched while we got busy.
"First off we plugged every hole under that barn but two, an' at each of these two we set a hoop64-net. Then we turned ol' Lucifer, the ferret, loose under the barn. Holy Smoke! afore we knowed it there was high jinks goin' on tinder there. Maurice had hold of one hoop an' me the other. It took ma weasel an' her boys an' girls 'bout half a minute to make up their minds that ol' Lucifer wasn't payin' 'em a friendly visit. When the big scramble66 was over, I had a bagful of weasels an' so did Maurice. We let Lucifer prowl round a little longer to make sure we had all of 'em, then I called him out. I made Scraff give us one of his hens to feed the ferret on. Then Maurice an' me started off.
"'You think you got all of 'em, Bill?" Scraff called.
"'All this time,' I says, an' to save my life I couldn't help laughin' at the look on his face. He knowed right then that I had put up a job on him but he couldn't figure out how."
"Oh Hully Gee!" yelled Jim Scroggie, "Wasn't that corkin'—Oh Mommer! An' what did you an' Maurice do with the weasels?"
Billy grinned sheepishly. "We should'a killed 'em, I s'pose," he said, "but we took 'em down to the marsh67 an' turned 'em loose there. Maurice said that anythin' that had done the good work them weasels had, deserved life, an' I thought so too."
The twilight68 shadows were beginning to steal across the glade; the golden-rod of the uplands massed into indistinguishable clumps69. The silence of eventide fell soft and sweet and songless—that breathless space between the forest day and darkness.
Billy stood up. "You'll like it here," he said to the other boy who was watching him, a strange wonder in his eyes. "After you know it better," he added.
"I'm afraid I don't fit very well yet," Scroggie answered. "Maybe you'll let me trail along with you sometimes, Bill, and learn things?"
"We'll see," said Billy and without another word turned to the dim pathway among the trees.
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1
kin
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| n.家族，亲属，血缘关系；adj.亲属关系的，同类的 | |
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2
averted
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| 防止，避免( avert的过去式和过去分词 )； 转移 | |
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3
scenting
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| vt.闻到（scent的现在分词形式） | |
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4
bout
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| n.侵袭，发作；一次(阵，回)；拳击等比赛 | |
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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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6
freckled
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| adj.雀斑；斑点；晒斑；（使）生雀斑v.雀斑，斑点( freckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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7
gee
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| n.马；int.向右！前进！，惊讶时所发声音；v.向右转 | |
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8
gasp
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| n.喘息，气喘；v.喘息；气吁吁他说 | |
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9
gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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10
mule
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| n.骡子，杂种，执拗的人 | |
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11
whined
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| v.哀号( whine的过去式和过去分词 )；哀诉，诉怨 | |
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12
scoffed
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| 嘲笑，嘲弄( scoff的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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13
curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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beech
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| n.山毛榉；adj.山毛榉的 | |
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15
grove
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| n.林子，小树林，园林 | |
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herd
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| n.兽群，牧群；vt.使集中，把…赶在一起 | |
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highland
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| n.(pl.)高地，山地 | |
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18
grassy
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| adj.盖满草的；长满草的 | |
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glade
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| n.林间空地，一片表面有草的沼泽低地 | |
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poised
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| a.摆好姿势不动的 | |
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fleeting
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| adj.短暂的，飞逝的 | |
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simultaneously
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| adv.同时发生地，同时进行地 | |
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clenched
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| v.紧握，抓紧，咬紧( clench的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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antagonistic
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| adj.敌对的 | |
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appraisingly
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| adv.以品评或评价的眼光 | |
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noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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antagonistically
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| adv.敌对地，对抗性地 | |
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28
knuckles
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| n.（指人）指关节( knuckle的名词复数 )；（指动物）膝关节，踝v.（指人）指关节( knuckle的第三人称单数 )；（指动物）膝关节，踝 | |
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29
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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30
growled
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| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的过去式和过去分词 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
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31
taunted
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| 嘲讽( taunt的过去式和过去分词 )； 嘲弄； 辱骂； 奚落 | |
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32
scowling
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| 怒视，生气地皱眉( scowl的现在分词 ) | |
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thereby
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| adv.因此，从而 | |
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resounding
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| adj. 响亮的 | |
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smack
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| vt.拍，打，掴；咂嘴；vi.含有…意味；n.拍 | |
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sneering
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| 嘲笑的，轻蔑的 | |
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defensive
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| adj.防御的；防卫的；防守的 | |
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38
grunted
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| （猪等）作呼噜声( grunt的过去式和过去分词 )； （指人）发出类似的哼声； 咕哝着说 | |
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promptly
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| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
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prancing
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| v.（马）腾跃( prance的现在分词 ) | |
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41
crouching
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的现在分词 ) | |
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42
wary
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| adj.谨慎的，机警的，小心的 | |
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43
adversary
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| adj.敌手，对手 | |
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44
writhing
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| （因极度痛苦而）扭动或翻滚( writhe的现在分词 ) | |
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45
posture
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| n.姿势，姿态，心态，态度；v.作出某种姿势 | |
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46
vanquished
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| v.征服( vanquish的过去式和过去分词 )；战胜；克服；抑制 | |
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47
sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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48
groggily
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| adv.酒醉地；东倒西歪地 | |
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49
squint
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| v. 使变斜视眼, 斜视, 眯眼看, 偏移, 窥视; n. 斜视, 斜孔小窗; adj. 斜视的, 斜的 | |
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50
sneak
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| vt.潜行(隐藏,填石缝)；偷偷摸摸做；n.潜行；adj.暗中进行 | |
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51
stump
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| n.残株，烟蒂，讲演台；v.砍断，蹒跚而走 | |
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52
grudge
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| n.不满，怨恨，妒嫉；vt.勉强给，不情愿做 | |
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53
somber
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| adj.昏暗的，阴天的，阴森的，忧郁的 | |
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54
nonchalance
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| n.冷淡，漠不关心 | |
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55
lug
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| n.柄，突出部，螺帽；(英）耳朵；（俚）笨蛋；vt.拖，拉，用力拖动 | |
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56
chuckled
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| 轻声地笑( chuckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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57
crate
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| vt.(up)把…装入箱中；n.板条箱，装货箱 | |
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58
hearty
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| adj.热情友好的；衷心的；尽情的，纵情的 | |
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59
quail
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| n.鹌鹑；vi.畏惧，颤抖 | |
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60
chaff
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| v.取笑，嘲笑；n.谷壳 | |
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61
knoll
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| n.小山，小丘 | |
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mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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63
skunk
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| n.臭鼬，黄鼠狼；v.使惨败，使得零分；烂醉如泥 | |
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64
hoop
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| n.（篮球）篮圈，篮 | |
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65
muzzle
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| n.鼻口部；口套；枪(炮)口；vt.使缄默 | |
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66
scramble
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| v.爬行，攀爬，杂乱蔓延，碎片，片段，废料 | |
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67
marsh
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| n.沼泽，湿地 | |
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68
twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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69
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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