the major-第3节

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〃I　donno。　　I　don'　want　fight　me；〃　said　Joe。

〃No；　I　know　you　don't　want　to；　but　you　could；　couldn't　you？〃　persisted　Mop。　　Joe　shrugged　his　shoulders。　　〃Ha；　I　told　you　so。　Hurrah　for　my　man；〃　cried　Mop；　clapping　Joe　on　the　back　and　pushing　him　toward　Larry。

Ben　began　to　scent　sport。　　He　was　also　conscious　of　a　rising　resentment　against　Mop's　exultant　tone　and　manner。

〃I　bet　you；〃　he　said；　〃if　Larry　wanted　to；　he　could　lick　Joe　even　if　he　had　both　hands；　but　if　Joe's　one　hand　is　tied　behind　his　back；　why　Larry　would　just　whale　the　tar　out　of　him。　　But　Larry　does　not　want　to　fight。〃

〃No；〃　jeered　Mop；　〃you　bet　he　don't；　he　ain't　got　it　in　him。　　I　bet　you　he　daren't　knock　a　chip　off　Joe's　shoulder；　and　I　will　tie　Joe's　hand　behind　his　back　with　his　belt。　　Now　there　he　is；　bring　your　man　on。　　There's　a　chip　on　his　shoulder　too。〃

Larry　looked　at　Joe；　the　little　smile　still　on　his　face。　　〃I　don't　want　to　fight　Joe。　　What　would　I　fight　Joe　for？〃　he　said。

〃I　told　you　so；〃　cried　Mop；　dancing　about。　　〃He　ain't　got　no　fight　in　him。


　　　　　Take　a　dare；　　　　　　Take　a　dare；　　　　　　Chase　a　cat；　　　　　　And　hunt　a　hare。〃


Ben　looked　critically　at　Larry　as　if　appraising　the　quality　of　his　soul。　　〃Joe　can't　lick　you　with　one　hand　tied　behind　his　back；　can　he；　Larry？〃

〃I　don't　want　to　fight　Joe；〃　persisted　Larry　still　smiling。

〃Ya；　ya；〃　persisted　Mop。　　〃Here；　Joe；　you　knock　this　chip　off　Larry's　shoulder。〃　　Mop　placed　the　gauge　of　battle　on　Larry's　shoulder。　　〃Go　ahead；　Joe。〃

To　Joe　a　fight　with　a　friend　or　a　foe　was　an　event　of　common　occurrence。　　With　even　a　more　dangerous　opponent　than　Larry　he　would　not　have　hesitated。　　For　to　decline　a　fight　was　with　Joe　utterly　despicable。　　So　placing　himself　in　readiness　for　the　blow　that　should　have　been　the　inevitable　consequence；　he　knocked　the　chip　off　Larry's　shoulder。　　Still　Larry　smiled　at　him。

〃Aw；　your　man's　no　good。　　He　won't　fight；〃　cried　Mop　with　unspeakable　disgust。　　〃I　told　you　he　wouldn't　fight。　　Do　you　know　why　he　won't　fight？　　His　mother　belongs　to　that　people；　them　Quakers；　that　won't　fight　for　anything。　　He's　a　coward　an'　his　mother's　a　coward　before　him。〃

The　smile　faded　from　Larry's　lips。　　His　face　which　had　been　pale　flamed　a　quick　red；　then　as　quickly　became　dead　white。　　He　turned　from　Joe　and　looked　at　the　boy　who　was　tormenting　him。　　Mop　was　at　least　four　years　older；　strongly　and　heavily　built。　　For　a　moment　Larry　stood　as　though　estimating　Mop's　fighting　qualities。　　Then　apparently　making　up　his　mind　that　on　ordinary　terms；　owing　to　his　lack　in　size　and　in　strength；　he　was　quite　unequal　to　his　foe；　he　looked　quickly　about　him　and　his　eye　fell　upon　a　stout　and　serviceable　beechwood　stake。　　With　quiet　deliberation　he　seized　the　club　and　began　walking　slowly　toward　Mop；　his　eyes　glittering　as　if　with　madness；　his　face　white　as　that　of　the　dead。　　So　terrifying　was　his　appearance　that　Mop　began　to　back　away。　　〃Here　you；　look　out；〃　he　cried；　〃I　will　smash　you。〃　　But　Larry　still　moved　steadily　upon　him。　　His　white　face；　his　burning　eyes；　his　steady　advance　was　more　than　Mop　could　endure。　　His　courage　broke。　　He　turned　and　incontinently　fled。　　Whirling　the　stick　over　his　head；　Larry　flung　the　club　with　all　his　might　after　him。　　The　club　caught　the　fleeing　Mop　fairly　between　the　shoulders。　　At　the　same　time　his　foot　caught　a　root。　　Down　he　went　upon　his　face；　uttering　cries　of　deadly　terror。

〃Keep　him　off；　keep　him　off。　　He　will　kill　me；　he　will　kill　me。〃

But　Larry　having　shot　his　bolt　ignored　his　fallen　enemy；　and　without　a　glance　at　him；　or　at　either　of　the　other　boys；　or　without　a　word　to　any　of　them；　he　walked　away　through　the　wood；　and　deaf　to　their　calling　disappeared　through　the　cedar　swamp　and　made　straight　for　home　and　to　his　mother。　　With　even；　passionless　voice；　with　almost　no　sign　of　penitence；　he　told　her　the　story　of　the　day's　truancy。

As　her　discriminating　eye　was　quick　in　discerning　his　penitence；　so　her　forgiveness　was　quick　in　meeting　his　sin。　　But　though　her　forgiveness　brought　the　boy　a　certain　measure　of　relief　he　seemed　almost　to　take　it　for　granted；　and　there　still　remained　on　his　face　a　look　of　pain　and　of　more　than　pain　that　puzzled　his　mother。　　He　seemed　to　be　in　a　maze　of　uncertainty　and　doubt　and　fear。　　His　mother　could　not　understand　his　distress；　for　Larry　had　told　her　nothing　of　his　encounter　with　Mop。　　Throughout　the　evening　there　pounded　through　the　boy's　memory　the　terrible　words；　〃He　is　a　coward　and　his　mother　is　a　coward　before　him。〃　　Through　his　father's　prayer　at　evening　worship　those　words　continued　to　beat　upon　his　brain。　　He　tried　to　prepare　his　school　lessons　for　the　day　following；　but　upon　the　page　before　his　eyes　the　same　words　took　shape。　　He　could　not　analyse　his　unutterable　sense　of　shame。　　He　had　been　afraid　to　fight。　　He　knew　he　was　a　coward；　but　there　was　a　deeper　shame　in　which　his　mother　was　involved。　　She　was　a　Quaker；　he　knew；　and　he　had　a　more　or　less　vague　idea　that　Quakers　would　not　fight。　　Was　she　then　a　coward？　　That　any　reflection　should　be　made　upon　his　mother　stabbed　him　to　the　heart。　　Again　and　again　Mop's　sneering；　grinning　face　appeared　before　his　eyes。　　He　felt　that　he　could　have　gladly　killed　him　in　the　woods；　but　after　all；　the　paralysing　thought　ever　recurred　that　what　Mop　said　was　true。　His　mother　was　a　coward！　　He　put　his　head　down　upon　his　books　and　groaned　aloud。

〃What　is　it；　dear？〃　inquired　his　mother。

〃I　am　going　to　bed；　mother；〃　he　said。

〃Is　your　head　bad？〃　she　asked。

〃No；　no；　mother。　　It　is　nothing。　　I　am　tired；〃　he　said；　and　went　upstairs。

Before　she　went　to　sleep　the　mother；　as　was　her　custom；　looked　in　upon　him。　　The　boy　was　lying　upon　his　face　with　his　arms　flung　over　his　head；　and　when　she　turned　him　over　to　an　easier　position；　on　the　pillow　and　on　his　cheeks　were　the　marks　of　tears。　　Gently　she　pushed　back　the　thick；　black；　wavy　locks　from　his　forehead；　and　kissed　him　once　and　again。　　The　boy　turned　his　face　toward　her。　A　long　sobbing　sigh　came　from　his　parted　lips。　　He　opened　his　eyes。

〃That　you；　mother？〃　he　asked；　the　old　whimsical　smile　at　his　lips。　〃Good…night。〃

He　settled　down　into　the　clothes　and　in　a　moment　was　fast　asleep。　The　mother　stood　looking　down　upon　her　boy。　　He　had　not　told　her　his　trouble；　but　her　touch　had　brought　him　comfort；　and　for　the　rest　she　was　content　to　wait。



CHAPTER　II

A　FIGHT　FOR　FREEDOM


The　village　schoolhouse　was　packed　to　the　door。　　Over　the　crowded　forms　there　fell　a　murky　light　from　the　smoky　swinging　lamp　that　left　dark　unexplored　depths　in　the　corners　of　the　room。　　On　the　walls　hung　dilapidated　maps　at　angles　suggesting　the　interior　of　a　ship's　cabin　during　a　storm；　or　a　party　of　revellers；　returning　homeward；　after　the　night　before；　gravely　hilarious。　　Behind　the　platform　a　blackboard；　cracked　into　irregular　spaces；　preserved　the　mental　processes　of　the　pupils　during　their　working　hours；　and　in　sharp　contrast　to　these　the　terribly　depressing　perfection　of　the　teacher's　exemplar　in　penmanship；　which　reminded　the　self…　complacent　slacker　that　〃Eternal　vigilance　is　the　price　of　freedom。〃

It　was　an　evangelistic　meeting。　　Behind　the　table；　his　face　illumined　by　the　lamp　thereon；　stood　a　man　turning　over　the　leaves　of　a　hymn　book。　　His　aspect　suggested　a　soul；　gentle；　mild　and　somewhat　abstracted　from　its　material　environment。　　The　lofty　forehead　gave　promise　of　an　idealism　capable　of　high　courage；　indeed　of　sacrificea　promise；　however；　belied　somewhat　by　an　irresolute　chin　partly　hidden　by　a　straggling　beard。　　But　the　face　was　sincere　and　tenderly　human。　　At　his　side　upon　the　platform　sat　his　wife　behind　a　little　portable　organ；　her　face　equally　gentle；　sincere　and　irresolute。

The　assemblywith　the　extraordinary　patience　that　characterises　public　assemblieswaited　for　the　opening　of　the　meeting；　following　with　attentive　eyes　the　vague　and　trifling　movements　of　the　man　at　the　table。　　Occasionally　there　was　a　rumble　of　deep　voices　in　conversation；　and　in　the　dark　corners　subdued　laughterwhile　on　the　front　benches　the　animated　and　giggling　whispering　of　three　little　girls　tended　to　relieve　the　hour　from　an　almost　superhuman　gravity。

At　length　with　a　sudden　acquisition　of　resolution　the　evangelist　glanced　at　his　watch；　rose；　and　catching　up　a　bundle　of　hymn　books　from　the　table　thrust　them　with　unnecessary　energy　into　the　hands　of　a　boy　who　sat　on　the　side　bench　beside　his　mother。　　The　boy　was　Lawrence　Gwynne。

〃Take　these；〃　said　the　man；　〃and　distribute　them；　please。〃

Lawrence　taken　thus　by　surprise　paled；　then　flushed　a　quick　red。　He　glanced　up　at　his　mother　and　at　her　slight　nod　took　the　books　and　distributed　them　among　the　audience　on　one　side　of　the　room　while　the　evangelist　took　the　other。　　As　the　lad　passed　from　bench　to　bench　with　his　books　he　was　greeted　with　jocular　and　slightly　jeering　remarks　in　undertone　by　the　younger　members　of　the　company；　which　had　the　effect　of　obviously　increasing　the　ineptitude　of　his　thin　nervous　fingers；　but　could　not　quite　dispel　the　whimsical　smile　that　lingered　about　the　corners　of　his　mouth　and　glanced　from　the　corners　of　his　grey…blue　eyes。

The　meeting　opened　with　the　singing　of　a　popular　hymn　which　carried　a　refrain　catchy　enough　but　running　to　doggerel。