Bob was looking into the glowing coals, thinking over the events of the day, which, since they had turned out safely, were now to be treasured as great adventures. Jerry for his part was lying looking up at the narrow strip of star-lit sky showing between the edges of the canyon’s top. Suddenly he rolled over and put his hand on his companion’s shoulder.
“You did me a good turn to-day,” he said a little huskily. “Thanks. I—I can’t say things very well but I want to tell you—”
“Saved my life, I reckon, is all you did. It must have been some job, too, although I don’t know how you did it.”
“You’d have done the same thing for me,” returned Bob, anxious to get off the subject. “Let’s talk about the dam site.”
But Jerry was not to be put off. He had come very close to death and it had shaken him out of his reserve. Bob had saved him and he wanted to thank him, to show his gratitude4.
“I just pulled you out and pumped the water out of you and—and here you are,” was Bob’s explanation of the episode.
“Seems to me it was a sort of angry whirlpool you pulled me from,” retorted Jerry. But he saw that he would have a hard time in getting any more details. “Anyhow, I know I’ve got to thank you for my life—such as it is!”
The note of sadness in the latter part of Jerry’s remark struck sharply on Bob’s ears. It flashed on him that there was possibly a reason for his comrade’s fits of silence and grouchiness6. This might very well be mixed up with his former life. He made an effort to find out.
“What’s the matter with your life?” he asked quickly. “I’d want nothing better. To be with the Reclamation7 Service and to have Mr. Whitney for a boss seems pretty good to me!”
“But what?” encouraged Bob.
“Oh, it’s nothing I can talk about,” returned the other and buried his face in his hands.
Bob watched him for a moment and then said softly, “But if you can talk about it p’r’aps it will help. Don’t you think so?”
“I don’t know,” hesitated the other after a pause. “I reckon it’s mighty kiddish of me but—but I just can’t help it.”
Bob was wise enough to wait until Jerry felt like going on. He knew that the other boy must be very much upset, quite shocked out of his customary reserve by the happenings of the day, to say as much as he had. His patience was at length rewarded.
“It’s—it’s just that I haven’t ever had a family like other fellows. There isn’t a soul who’d care a bit whether I’d been drowned to-day or not. If I get along, it’s all by myself. Somehow it doesn’t seem worth while.”
“That’s mighty tough,” said Bob sympathetically, when Jerry paused for a moment. “I’ll bet Mr. Whitney cares—”
“But that’s not like having someone you belong to!” cried Jerry. “The Boss is all right but he isn’t a family. Why, the first thing I remember is selling papers in the Loop back in Chicago when I was hardly big enough to walk, and getting licked when I got home because I didn’t bring in enough pennies. Home!” the boy’s voice broke on the word. “It wasn’t a home!”
“They weren’t my parents, no fear. They told that soon enough. I’d been taken in by ’em ’cause they thought I might be useful—”
“Who were they?”
“Oh, a cabby driver and his wife. The old woman told me once she wished she’d left me on the doorstep where she found me. But I stuck it out with them, until I was about fourteen, I reckon, and then something happened. One day a man spoke10 to me on State Street and asked if I didn’t want to go out in the country. He made a wonderful picture of the road on which there were no houses, the haystacks under which one could sleep. I’d never been outside of the city and it sounded great to me. He said I could go along with him and he would show me all these wonders. It was springtime and the licking I’d had the night before still smarted, so I went.”
Once Jerry had started his tale, it flowed on without interruption. He seemed anxious to get it out.
“I didn’t know what I’d let myself in for. If anything, my life was a lot worse than it’d been before. The Denver Kid was the name of the man who had picked me up and I soon learned that he was a tramp—a hobo. All first class hoboes get boys who go along with them and on whom fall all the hard work. Their pay is in kicks and beatings. And I got my share of both. I found the country to be as he said it was, but we saw very little of it, for the Kid didn’t like walking. He stayed close to the railroad and I saw most of the country from a crack in the door of a box car, or through the flying sand thrown up over us as we clung to a rattling11 brake-beam.
“It’s hard to escape from a gang of tramps once you’re in it. Not for two years was I able to pull it off. Finally I got my chance to beat it. Somehow, the sight of kids going to school had given me a hankering for an education of some sort and I was ashamed that all I could do was spell out the newspaper and read a time-table.”
“One day the Kid sent me out to rustle13 a hand-out. We were in Iowa at that time, just when they were bringing in the wheat harvest. I went up to a farmhouse14 and started my spiel on a lady who came to the door. She let me finish what I had to say, took me in and without a word gave me a big spread. But when I got through she made up for her silence. She began jawing15 at me just as a mother might.”
“I know,” put in Bob. “I didn’t have a mother either. At least, it was so long ago I can hardly remember her.”
Jerry went on with his story. “She told me I ought to be ashamed of myself, big, husky boy that I was, roaming around doing no useful work. Wanted to know why I didn’t stay there and help with the harvest and work for my living. This wasn’t the first time that I had been handed out the same sort of chatter16. But I fell for it this time—she was sort of homely17 and nice. The only thing I was afraid of was the Denver Kid. I knew if I didn’t go back with something to eat he would come and find me and lick the stuffing out of me. I told Mrs. Olson—that was her name—that I would have to go but that I’d come back that night. For a moment I don’t think she believed me, but at last she let me go, giving me quite a lot of grub.
“I went back to the bunch and that night just after we’d hopped18 a freight at the water tank, I took a chance and jumped. By the time the Denver Kid knew I’d gone, the train was rolling too fast for him to follow me.”
“Weren’t you hurt?” asked Bob.
“A few scratches and bruises19. Nothing much. But I didn’t care; I was free. I walked back to the farm, camped out under a haystack and the next morning showed up for breakfast. Mrs. Olson certainly was good to me while I was there. After harvest she made me stay on and let me go to school. I paid for my keep by doing chores.”
“Didn’t the Denver Kid come back after you?” Bob wanted to know.
“Never,” said Jerry. “At first I figured he would, but after a month, when he didn’t show up, I doped it out that he thought I’d fallen off the train and been killed. Anyhow, I stayed with the Olson’s until I had learned all that the school there could teach me. Mrs. Olson died soon after and I couldn’t bear to stay around any longer. She was as near to folks as I ever had.”
“That was tough,” said Bob sympathetically. “What’d you do then?”
“I just drifted. I followed the harvest westward20 and then I had a chance to take some cattle down to Colorado. It was about then I met Steve Whitney, and he gave me a job, and here I am.”
“How did you meet him?” asked Bob, expecting that Jerry had found his job in some exciting way. But he was disappointed.
“I was hanging around the little town I was in, waiting for something to turn up. There was a project under way a few miles out and I hiked over to give it a look. The Chief caught me on the dam and thought I looked sort of hungry. Shipped me to the mess tent and afterwards put me to work. That’s all. Now I’m here. And I’ve told you my yarn,” said Jerry at last. “There’s not much to it, is there?”
Bob was silent a moment, contrasting the life of ease he had spent with the experiences he had just listened to. Before he could speak, Jerry went on, laughing shortly.
“Not at all. I think you have done a lot for yourself and it must have been awfully23 exciting while you were about it. I’ve never had anything more exciting in my life than just going to school. This engineering is the biggest adventure I’ve ever had. But to-day—to-day’s about made up for all I’ve missed in the past. I couldn’t want much better than this, could I?”
“I should say not,” returned Jerry. “The last twelve hours ought to last you for the rest of your life!”
They talked on until sleep overcame them. For his part, Bob went off into dreamland feeling that the day had been well spent. The adventures had been big adventures and he and Jerry had come through safely. Jerry had loosened up and had come out of his shell and Bob knew that he had made a new friend and a good one.
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1
salvaged
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| （从火灾、海难等中）抢救（某物）( salvage的过去式和过去分词 )； 回收利用（某物） | |
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2
cargo
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| n.(一只船或一架飞机运载的)货物 | |
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3
stammered
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| v.结巴地说出( stammer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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4
gratitude
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| adj.感激，感谢 | |
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5
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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6
grouchiness
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| n.grouchy（不高兴的，爱抱怨的）的变形 | |
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7
reclamation
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| n.开垦；改造；（废料等的）回收 | |
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8
bully
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| n.恃强欺弱者，小流氓；vt.威胁，欺侮 | |
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9
horrified
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| a.(表现出)恐惧的 | |
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10
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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11
rattling
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| adj. 格格作响的, 活泼的, 很好的 adv. 极其, 很, 非常 动词rattle的现在分词 | |
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12
narrative
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| n.叙述，故事；adj.叙事的，故事体的 | |
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13
rustle
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| v.沙沙作响；偷盗(牛、马等)；n.沙沙声声 | |
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14
farmhouse
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| n.农场住宅（尤指主要住房） | |
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15
jawing
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| n.用水灌注 | |
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16
chatter
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| vi.／n.喋喋不休；短促尖叫；(牙齿)打战 | |
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17
homely
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| adj.家常的，简朴的；不漂亮的 | |
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18
hopped
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| 跳上[下]( hop的过去式和过去分词 )； 单足蹦跳； 齐足（或双足）跳行； 摘葎草花 | |
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19
bruises
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| n.瘀伤，伤痕，擦伤( bruise的名词复数 ) | |
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20
westward
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| n.西方，西部；adj.西方的，向西的；adv.向西 | |
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21
inflicted
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| 把…强加给，使承受，遭受( inflict的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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22
acting
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| n.演戏，行为，假装；adj.代理的，临时的，演出用的 | |
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23
awfully
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| adv.可怕地，非常地，极端地 | |
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