to the last man-第18节

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


cheek　came　in　contact　with　it。　　Then　she　felt　as　if　she　had　been　stung。
She　moved　it　again；　only　to　touch　it　presently　with　her　hand。　　Next　she
flung　it　to　the　bottom　of　her　bed；　where　it　fell　upon　her　feet；　and
whatever　way　she　moved　them　she　could　not　escape　the　pressure　of　this
undesirable　and　mysterious　gift。

By　and　by　she　fell　asleep；　only　to　dream　that　the　package　was　a
caressing　hand　stealing　about　her；　feeling　for　hers；　and　holding　it
with　soft；　strong　clasp。　　When　she　awoke　she　had　the　strangest
sensation　in　her　right　palm。　　It　was　moist；　throbbing；　hot；　and
the　feel　of　it　on　her　cheek　was　strangely　thrilling　and　comforting。
She　lay　awake　then。　　The　night　was　dark　and　still。　　Only　a　low　moan
of　wind　in　the　pines　and　the　faint　tinkle　of　a　sheep　bell　broke　the
serenity。　　She　felt　very　small　and　lonely　lying　there　in　the　deep
forest；　and；　try　how　she　would；　it　was　impossible　to　think　the　same
then　as　she　did　in　the　clear　light　of　day。　　Resentment；　pride；　anger
these　seemed　abated　now。　　If　the　events　of　the　day　had　not　changed
her；　they　had　at　least　brought　up　softer　and　kinder　memories　and
emotions　than　she　had　known　for　long。　　Nothing　hurt　and　saddened
her　so　much　as　to　remember　the　gay；　happy　days　of　her　childhood；
her　sweet　mother；　her；　old　home。　　Then　her　thought　returned　to　Isbel
and　his　gift。　　It　had　been　years　since　anyone　had　made　her　a　gift。
What　could　this　one　be？　　It　did　not　matter。　　The　wonder　was　that
Jean　Isbel　should　bring　it　to　her　and　that　she　could　be　perturbed
by　its　presence。　　〃He　meant　it　for　his　sister　and　so　he　thought
well　of　me；〃　she　said；　in　finality。

Morning　brought　Ellen　further　vacillation。　　At　length　she　rolled
the　obnoxious　package　inside　her　blankets；　saying　that　she　would
wait　until　she　got　home　and　then　consign　it　cheerfully　to　the　flames。
Antonio　tied　her　pack　on　a　burro。　　She　did　not　have　a　horse；　and
therefore　had　to　walk　the　several　miles；　to　her　father's　ranch。

She　set　off　at　a　brisk　pace；　leading　the　burro　and　carrying　her
rifle。　　And　soon　she　was　deep　in　the　fragrant　forest。　　The　morning
was　clear　and　cool；　with　just　enough　frost　to　make　the　sunlit　grass
sparkle　as　if　with　diamonds。　　Ellen　felt　fresh；　buoyant；　singularly
full　of；　life。　　Her　youth　would　not　be　denied。　　It　was　pulsing；
yearning。　　She　hummed　an　old　Southern　tune　and　every　step　seemed
one　of　pleasure　in　action；　of　advance　toward　some　intangible　future
happiness。　　All　the　unknown　of　life　before　her　called。　　Her　heart
beat　high　in　her　breast　and　she　walked　as　one　in　a　dream。　　Her　thoughts
were　swift…changing；　intimate；　deep；　and　vague；　not　of　yesterday　or
to…day；　nor　of　reality。

The　big；　gray；　white…tailed　squirrels　crossed　ahead　of　her　on　the　trail；
scampered　over　the　piny　ground　to　hop　on　tree　trunks；　and　there　they
paused　to　watch　her　pass。　　The　vociferous　little　red　squirrels　barked
and　chattered　at　her。　　From　every　thicket　sounded　the　gobble　of　turkeys。　
The　blue　jays　squalled　in　the　tree　tops。　　A　deer　lifted　its　head　from
browsing　and　stood　motionless；　with　long　ears　erect；　watching　her　go　by。

Thus　happily　and　dreamily　absorbed；　Ellen　covered　the　forest　miles　and
soon　reached　the　trail　that　led　down　into　the　wild　brakes　of　Chevelon
Canyon。　　It　was　rough　going　and　less　conducive　to　sweet　wanderings　of
mind。　　Ellen　slowly　lost　them。　　And　then　a　familiar　feeling　assailed
her；　one　she　never　failed　to　have　upon　returning　to　her　father's　ranch
a　reluctance；　a　bitter　dissatisfaction　with　her　home；　a　loyal　struggle
against　the　vague　sense　that　all　was　not　as　it　should　be。

At　the　head　of　this　canyon　in　a　little；　level；　grassy　meadow　stood　a
rude　one…room　log　shack；　with　a　leaning　red…stone　chimney　on　the　outside。
This　was　the　abode　of　a　strange　old　man　who　had　long　lived　there。　　His
name　was　John　Sprague　and　his　occupation　was　raising　burros。　　No　sheep　
or　cattle　or　horses　did　he　own；　not　even　a　dog。　　Rumor　had　said　Sprague
was　a　prospector；　one　of　the　many　who　had　searched　that　country　for　the
Lost　Dutchman　gold　mine。　　Sprague　knew　more　about　the　Basin　and　Rim
than　any　of　the　sheepmen　or　ranchers。　　From　Black　Butte　to　the　Cibique
and　from　Chevelon　Butte　to　Reno　Pass　he　knew　every　trail；　canyon；　ridge；
and　spring；　and　could　find　his　way　to　them　on　the　darkest　night。　　His
fame；　however；　depended　mostly　upon　the　fact　that　he　did　nothing　but
raise　burros；　and　would　raise　none　but　black　burros　with　white　faces。
These　burros　were　the　finest　bred　in　ail　the　Basin　and　were　in　great
demand。　　Sprague　sold　a　few　every　year。　　He　had　made　a　present　of　one
to　Ellen；　although　he　hated　to　part　with　them。　　This　old　man　was
Ellen's　one　and　only　friend。

Upon　her　trip　out　to　the　Rim　with　the　sheep；　Uncle　John；　as　Ellen
called　him；　had　been　away　on　one　of　his　infrequent　visits　to　Grass
Valley。　　It　pleased　her　now　to　see　a　blue　column　of　smoke　lazily
lifting　from　the　old　chimney　and　to　hear　the　discordant　bray　of　burros。
As　she　entered　the　clearing　Sprague　saw　her　from　the　door　of　his　shack。

〃Hello；　Uncle　John！〃　she　called。

〃Wal；　if　it　ain't　Ellen！〃　he　replied；　heartily。　　〃When　I　seen　thet
white…faced　jinny　I　knowed　who　was　leadin'　her。　　Where　you　been；　girl？〃

Sprague　was　a　little；　stoop…shouldered　old　man；　with　grizzled　head
and　face；　and　shrewd　gray　eyes　that　beamed　kindly　on　her　over　his
ruddy　cheeks。　　Ellen　did　not　like　the　tobacco　stain　on　his　grizzled
beard　nor　the　dirty；　motley；　ragged；　ill…smelling　garb　he　wore；
but　she　had　ceased　her　useless　attempts　to　make　him　more　cleanly。

〃I've　been　herdin'　sheep；〃　replied　Ellen。　　〃And　where　have　y'u　been；
uncle？　　I　missed　y'u　on　the　way　over。〃

〃Been　packin'　in　some　grub。　　An'　I　reckon　I　stayed　longer　in　Grass
Valley　than　I　recollect。　　But　thet　was　only　natural；　considerin'〃

〃What？〃　asked　Ellen；　bluntly；　as　the　old　man　paused。

Sprague　took　a　black　pipe　out　of　his　vest　pocket　and　began　rimming　the
bowl　with　his　fingers。　　The　glance　he　bent　on　Ellen　was　thoughtful　and
earnest；　and　so　kind　that　she　feared　it　was　pity。　　Ellen　suddenly
burned　for　news　from　the　village。

Wal；　come　in　an'　set　down；　won't　you？〃　he　asked。

〃No；　thanks；〃　replied　Ellen；　and　she　took　a　seat　on　the　chopping　block。
〃Tell　me；　uncle；　what's　goin'　on　down　in　the　Valley？〃

〃Nothin'　much　yetexcept　talk。　　An'　there's　a　heap　of　thet。〃

〃Humph！　　There　always　was　talk；〃　declared　Ellen；　contemptuously。
〃A　nasty；　gossipy；　catty　hole；　that　Grass　Valley！〃

〃Ellen；　thar's　goin'　to　be　wara　bloody　war　in　the　ole　Tonto　Basin；〃
went　on　Sprague；　seriously。

〃War！　。　。　。　Between　whom？〃

〃The　Isbels　an'　their　enemies。　　I　reckon　most　people　down　thar；　an'
sure　all　the　cattlemen；　air　on　old　Gass's　side。　　Blaisdell；　Gordon；
Fredericks；　Bluethey'll　all　be　in　it。〃

〃Who　are　they　goin'　to　fight？〃　queried　Ellen；　sharply。

〃　Wal；　the　open　talk　is　thet　the　sheepmen　are　forcin'　this　war。　　But
thar's　talk　not　so　open；　an'　I　reckon　not　very　healthy　for　any　man　to
whisper　hyarbouts。〃

〃Uncle　John；　y'u　needn't　be　afraid　to　tell　me　anythin'；　said　Ellen。
〃I'd　never　give　y'u　away。　　Y'u've　been　a　good　friend　to　me。〃

〃Reckon　I　want　to　be；　Ellen；〃　he　returned；　nodding　his　shaggy　head。
〃It　ain't　easy　to　be　fond　of　you　as　I　am　an'　keep　my　mouth　shet。
　。　。　I'd　like　to　know　somethin'。　　Hev　you　any　relatives　away　from
hyar　thet　you　could　go　to　till　this　fight's　over？〃

〃No。　　All　I　have；　so　far　as　I　know；　are　right　heah。〃

〃How　aboot　friends？〃

〃Uncle　John；　I　have　none；〃　she　said；　sadly；　with　bowed　head。

〃Wal；　wal；　I'm　sorry。　　I　was　hopin'　you　might　git　away。〃

She　lifted　her　face。　　〃Shore　y'u　don't　think　I'd　run　off　if　my　dad　got
in　a　fight？　〃　she　flashed。

〃I　hope　you　will。〃

〃I'm　a　Jorth；〃　she　said；　darkly；　and　dropped　her　head　again。

Sprague　nodded　gloomily。　　Evidently　he　was　perplexed　and　worried；
and　strongly　swayed　by　affection　for　her。

〃Would　you　go　away　with　me？　〃　he　asked。　　〃We　could　pack　over　to　the
Mazatzals　an'　live　thar　till　this　blows　over。〃

〃Thank　y'u；　Uncle　John。　　Y'u're　kind　and　good。　　But　I'll　stay　with
my　father。　　His　troubles　are　mine。〃

〃Ahuh！　。　。　。　Wal；　I　might　hev　reckoned　so。　。　。　。　Ellen；　how　do　you
stand　on　this　hyar　sheep　an'　cattle　question？〃

〃I　think　what's　fair　for　one　is　fair　for　another。　　I　don't　like　sheep
as　much　as　I　like　cattle。　　But　that's　not　the　point。　　The　range　is　free。
Suppose　y'u　had　cattle　and　I　had　sheep。　　I'd　feel　as　free　to　run　my
sheep　anywhere　as　y'u　were　to　ran　your　cattle。〃

〃Right。　　But　what　if　you　throwed　your　sheep　round　my　range　an'　sheeped
off　the　grass　so　my　cattle　would　hev　to　move　or　starve？〃

〃Shore　I　wouldn't　throw　my　sheep　round　y'ur　range；〃　she　declared；　stoutly。

〃Wal；　you've　answered　half　of　the　question。　　An'　now　supposin'　a　lot
of　my　cattle　was　stolen　by　rustlers；　but　not　a　single　one　of　your　sheep。
What　'd　you　think　then？　〃

〃I'd　shore　think　rustlers　chose　to　steal　cattle　because　there　was　no
profit　in　stealin'　sheep。〃

〃Egzactly。　　But　wouldn't　you　hev　a　queer　idee　aboot　it？〃

〃I　don't　know。　　Why　queer？　　What　're　y'u　drivin'　at；　Uncle　John？〃

〃Wal；　wouldn't　you　git　kind　of　a　hunch　thet　the　rustlers　wassay
a　leetle　friendly　toward　the　sheepmen？

Ellen　felt　a　sudden　vibrating　shock。　　The　blood　rushed　to　her　temples