It was late for that country district, but he saw unexpected lights in the houses he passed. From Ferrell’s store a couple of riders dashed out and tore past him, shouting something back in the darkness. A buggy drove out from a farm lane and turned in the same direction rapidly, not hearing Lockwood’s shout for a lift.
He pounded along the road, short of breath, dreading3 more and more to reach the end, but at last came in sight of the Power gateway4.
He had expected to find the house dark, but it was all ablaze5 with lights. In the front yard the lights of a big motor car glared, and he saw several horses tied to trees before the house. Dim figures were moving on the gallery before the lighted door and windows.
Amazed, but too breathless to think, he ran through the yard and up the steps. There were rifles leaning on the gallery rail. The hall seemed to be full of men; he guessed instantly that his news had somehow arrived before him. Nearly all were men he knew. There was a sudden dead silence, and every face turned toward him with a look of startled incredulity, as if his appearance were something supernatural.
It checked the words on Lockwood’s lips. Puzzled, he took one step into the hall, and almost collided with Tom Power, hatted and dressed for riding, with a great revolver slung6 at his belt. For one second Tom also stared open-mouthed; then he clutched Lockwood’s throat with a leap, crushing him back against the wall.
It broke the spell. The crowd surged forward, with a growl8 like an awakened9 beast. Lockwood wrenched10 away Tom’s grip on his neck.
“What’s the matter?” he began chokingly. “I came to tell you—Jackson’s shot. I came to raise a posse.”
“The nerve he had to come back here!” somebody said at the edge of the crowd.
“Saves us a heap of trouble,” was the reply.
“We’ve got the posse,” said Tom grimly. “You needn’t bother about no posse. All you need’s a rope.”
“Here’s the rope,” some one called out. Old Henry Power pushed his way in, also belted with a gun. His eyes were bloodshot; he looked wrinkled and aged11, but as deadly inflexible12 as fate.
“Do it all in order, boys,” he said. “He’ll git what’s due him. Let him say what he wants ter.”
Lockwood cast his eye desperately13 over the mob. He wondered where Louise was—doubtless shut in her room. He looked for some members of the turpentine camp. They were all his friends, but he saw none of them.
“You’re making some awful mistake!” he cried. “I didn’t shoot Jackson. I saw it all. It was Hanna—Hanna and Blue Bob’s gang. Give me a chance, won’t you? Phone over for Charley Craig.”
“We don’t need none of the turpentine men in this,” said Tom. “Look for his gun, some of you-all.”
“He ain’t got no gun,” a man reported after exploring. Lockwood’s automatic, in fact, still lay by the river shore.
“Must have throwed it away. Never mind. Git him outer this.”
“Plenty of good trees right in the yard,” a voice called.
“No—no, not here. We’ll take him down the road a ways,” said Tom hastily.
He was hustled14 out of the gallery. Lockwood had never before met the hostility15 of a mob. It is something that cows and crushes the spirit. He lost his head; he tried stumblingly to tell his story as they were shoving him down the steps. Nobody paid him any attention. His words sounded weak even to himself. He saw a man carrying a heap of loose rope over his arm.
At that moment Hanna came hastily out from the rear hall, wearing hat and leggings, and carrying a rifle. At sight of Lockwood he stopped dead, a sort of wild amazement16 on his face, changing to a fire of victory and vindictiveness17. He crowded forward close to the prisoner.
“Where’d you get him?” he exclaimed. “He didn’t come here himself?” He thrust his face close up to Lockwood’s. “Thought you played a sharp trick!” he said in a piercing undertone. “But I knew I’d beat you! I’ve got you on the end of a rope now—you fool!”
Lockwood faced those malevolent18 eyes, and their fierce exultation19 whipped his scattered20 wits together.
“Listen, all of you men!” he shouted. “This is the man that killed Jackson—this Hanna here. He was ambushed21 by the river; he fired four shots. I saw him as plain as I do now. What lie has he told you?”
“Tell him. Tell him, Hanna. Let him hear what’s agin’ him,” said two or three voices.
“Well, I was ambushed there sure enough,” said Hanna easily. “I’d seen Jackson starting down the river road in the car with this fellow, and I guessed he was up to no good. So I got a horse and rode after them. You-all saw me go,” nodding to Tom and his father. “I wasn’t long behind ’em, but I wasn’t quick enough. Just as I came to the landing this fellow shot Jackson twice in the back, and slung his body straight into the river.
“I yelled and emptied my gun at him. Looks like I touched him, too, for he slipped or jumped into the river himself. I couldn’t see anything of either of ’em. It was pitch dark. I got on my horse and rode back here quick as I could to get some men out. I left the car. I reckon it’s there yet. I ought to have brought it, but I was badly rattled22. I guess that’s proof enough to hang him, ain’t it?”
“Proof?” echoed Lockwood, with the energy of final desperation. “It’s his word against mine. That man would do anything—he’d swear to anything, to put me out of the way. I know too much about him—I’ve been after him too long—I’ve got evidence to send him to prison for the rest of his life, and he knows it.
“Do you know who this man is, Henry Power, and you, Tom? He’s a professional criminal, a crook23, a confidence man. I’ve got his record. He’s been bleeding you ever since he’s been here, charging you double for everything you bought, planning to get your last cent with his fake oil stock. I found out all about that oil stock. Telephone to Mobile before you doubt me. It isn’t the first time he’s played this game. It’s his trade.”
“You don’t know me, do you? But do you remember Melbourne, Virginia, and the real-estate business that you wrecked25 there? Do you remember the papers you forged and the lies you swore to get me jailed while you got away with everything I had? I’ve been after you ever since. I followed you all over this continent. I knew you the minute I saw you here. I ought to have shot you that minute. Do you know me now, Ed McGibbon?”
The smile had died from Hanna’s face. He stepped slightly back, his jaw26 half dropping, staring as if a ghost had risen before his eyes. Every man’s gaze was turned on him now. He made an obvious effort to recover himself, moistening his lips.
“He did give me a start,” he said. “Yes, I know him, but I thought he was dead years ago. He was once in partnership27 with me up North, but he turned out a crook and a grafter28, and he got into jail, as he says. I did all I could to save him. Looks like he’s been going from bad to worse ever since.”
“You liar29!” Lockwood vociferated. “Look at him, men. Look at his face! He daren’t front me. Get the whole story—both sides—or put me up against him right now with a gun—with a knife——”
“This is foolishness!” Hanna broke in. “I ain’t going to fight a murderer. I saw him shoot young Jackson. You’re not going to let him get away with that, are you? Where’ll we hang him up?”
Nobody replied. The crowd gazed curiously30 at both men. The furious vehemence31 of Lockwood’s attack had made its impression. Even Tom hung silent, fumbling32 with his pistol butt33. In the hush34 sounded the beating of a motor car traveling up the road.
The car crawled laboriously36, it seemed, through deep sand, and turned in Power’s gate. It wabbled drunkenly as it came up the drive. The glare of its lamps flashed across the group of men as it curved, steering37 wildly as if it was going to run through the lynching party. It stopped with a jerk. Lockwood saw that there was only one man in it, huddled38 over the wheel. He made an unsteady effort to rise, to get out, and fell almost doubled over the door.
“Jackson!” shouted old Henry, with a tremendous oath, rushing at the car. He tore open the door, threw his arms around the collapsed40 figure, half lifted it out, with broken, blasphemous41 ejaculations. Lockwood was just behind him. He caught a glimpse of the hatless, pallid42 face of the boy, grotesquely43 streaked44 with blood, the wet, torn clothing. The crowd surged up behind them, forgetting both Lockwood and Hanna in the amazement of this apparition45 that was like a resurrection from the dead.
Tom, his arm about his brother’s shoulder, was crying in his face:
“Who done it, Jackson? Who done it? Who shot you?”
The boy’s face worked. His eyes opened, and he rubbed his wet sleeve across them.
“Got yere!” he mumbled46 with the ghost of a chuckle47. “They done throwed me in the river, but I got out. Knowed I could drive home ef I could start the d—d cyar. Hello, Lockwood!” catching48 sight of him. “Did they git you, too?”
“Not quite,” said Lockwood, speaking distinctly in the boy’s face. “Tell them who shot you, Jackson. Could you see?”
“Sure I seen him,” said Jackson faintly. “Seen him in the gun flash. I seen——By glory! thar he is now!”
He had caught sight of Hanna’s scared face as the crowd shifted. He seemed to collect himself with a vast effort, and swung up his arm, the hand closed, as if he fancied it still held a gun. For two or three seconds Hanna faced that unsteady, wavering arm; then his nerve broke. He gave a swift glance to right and left, ducked under the arms of the men next him, and bolted, disappearing toward the rear of the house.
There was an instant yelling rush in pursuit. Gun flashes split the darkness. Lockwood was left alone with Henry Power, still supporting Jackson’s almost inert49 body.
“Must get him into the house—put him to bed,” he said.
Between them they carried the boy into the hall and up the stairs. On the upper floor a door opened and Louise came out, carrying a lamp. She looked drained of life and color, dead-white, her eyes wide and liquid and terrified.
“It’s all right,” Lockwood said quickly. “Your brother’s back—not badly hurt, I think. We’ll get him to bed. Hanna’s bolted. Everything’s going to be all right now. Will you telephone for a doctor?”
They laid Jackson on his bed. He had a wound through the upper left arm; a bullet had torn one ear and gashed51 his cheek; making a terrible bleeding, and there was a bloody52 furrow53 across the top of his head, which probably had most to do with his state. But none of these hurts appeared serious.
As Lockwood bent54 over the patient he heard down on the bayou the rapid, sharp explosions of a motor boat, diminishing to a distant drumming.
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1
warehouse
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| n.仓库；vt.存入仓库 | |
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ambush
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| n.埋伏(地点)；伏兵；v.埋伏；伏击 | |
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dreading
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| v.害怕，恐惧，担心( dread的现在分词 ) | |
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gateway
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| n.大门口，出入口，途径，方法 | |
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ablaze
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| adj.着火的，燃烧的；闪耀的，灯火辉煌的 | |
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slung
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| 抛( sling的过去式和过去分词 )； 吊挂； 遣送； 押往 | |
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7
snarled
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| v.（指狗）吠，嗥叫， （人）咆哮( snarl的过去式和过去分词 )；咆哮着说，厉声地说 | |
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growl
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| v.（狗等）嗥叫，（炮等）轰鸣；n.嗥叫，轰鸣 | |
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9
awakened
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| 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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10
wrenched
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| v.（猛力地）扭( wrench的过去式和过去分词 )；扭伤；使感到痛苦；使悲痛 | |
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aged
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| adj.年老的，陈年的 | |
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inflexible
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| adj.不可改变的，不受影响的，不屈服的 | |
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desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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14
hustled
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| 催促（hustle的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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hostility
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| n.敌对，敌意；抵制［pl.］交战，战争 | |
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amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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vindictiveness
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| 恶毒；怀恨在心 | |
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malevolent
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| adj.有恶意的，恶毒的 | |
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exultation
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| n.狂喜，得意 | |
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scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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ambushed
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| v.埋伏( ambush的过去式和过去分词 )；埋伏着 | |
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rattled
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| 慌乱的，恼火的 | |
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crook
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| v.使弯曲；n.小偷，骗子，贼；弯曲(处) | |
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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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wrecked
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| adj.失事的，遇难的 | |
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jaw
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| n.颚，颌，说教，流言蜚语；v.喋喋不休，教训 | |
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partnership
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| n.合作关系，伙伴关系 | |
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grafter
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| 嫁接的人，贪污者，收贿者； 平铲 | |
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liar
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| n.说谎的人 | |
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curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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vehemence
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| n.热切；激烈；愤怒 | |
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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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33
butt
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| n.笑柄；烟蒂；枪托；臀部；v.用头撞或顶 | |
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hush
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| int.嘘，别出声；n.沉默，静寂；v.使安静 | |
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35
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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laboriously
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| adv.艰苦地；费力地；辛勤地；（文体等）佶屈聱牙地 | |
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steering
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| n.操舵装置 | |
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huddled
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| 挤在一起（huddle的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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39
awed
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| adj.充满敬畏的，表示敬畏的v.使敬畏，使惊惧( awe的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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40
collapsed
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| adj.倒塌的 | |
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41
blasphemous
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| adj.亵渎神明的，不敬神的 | |
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42
pallid
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| adj.苍白的，呆板的 | |
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43
grotesquely
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| adv. 奇异地,荒诞地 | |
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44
streaked
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| adj.有条斑纹的，不安的v.快速移动( streak的过去式和过去分词 )；使布满条纹 | |
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45
apparition
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| n.幽灵，神奇的现象 | |
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46
mumbled
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| 含糊地说某事，叽咕，咕哝( mumble的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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47
chuckle
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| vi.／n.轻声笑，咯咯笑 | |
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48
catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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49
inert
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| adj.无活动能力的，惰性的；迟钝的 | |
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50
luminous
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| adj.发光的，发亮的；光明的；明白易懂的；有启发的 | |
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51
gashed
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| v.划伤，割破( gash的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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52
bloody
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| adj.非常的的；流血的；残忍的；adv.很；vt.血染 | |
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53
furrow
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| n.沟；垄沟；轨迹；车辙；皱纹 | |
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54
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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