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arizona nights(亚利桑那之夜)-第4节

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moment; but we uttered pessimistic predictions if the wind should change。 

Tom Rich and Jim Lester had a little tent; and insisted on descending to 

the canon…bed。          〃Got to cook there; anyways;〃 said they; and departed 

with the two pack mules and their bed horse。 

     That    left  the   Cattleman;     Windy     Bill;  Jed   Parker;   and   me。    In    a 

moment Windy Bill came up to us whispering and mysterious。 

     〃Get your cavallos and follow me;〃 said he。 

     We did so。      He led us two hundred yards to another cave; twenty feet 

high; fifteen feet in diameter; level as a floor。 

     〃How's that?〃   he   cried  in   triumph。  〃Found   her  just now  while  I  was 

rustling nigger…heads for a fire。〃 

     We unpacked our beds with chuckles of joy; and spread them carefully 

within the shelter of the cave。          Except for the very edges; which did not 

much matter; our blankets and 〃so…guns;〃 protected by the canvas 〃tarp;〃 

were reasonably dry。        Every once in a while a spasm of conscience would 

seize one or the other of us。 

     〃It seems sort of mean on the other fellows;〃 ruminated Jed Parker。 

     〃They had their first choice;〃 cried we all。 

     〃Uncle Jim's an old man;〃 the Cattleman pointed out。 

     But Windy Bill had thought of that。           〃I told him of this yere cave first。 

But he allowed he was plumb satisfied。〃 

     We finished laying   out our blankets。           The result looked good to   us。 

We all burst out laughing。 

     〃Well; I'm sorry for those fellows;〃 cried the Cattleman。               We hobbled 

our horses and descended to the gleam of the fire; like guilty conspirators。 

There   we   ate   hastily   of   meat;   bread   and   coffee;   merely   for   the   sake   of 

sustenance。      It certainly amounted to little in the way of pleasure。               The 



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water     from    the   direct    rain;  the   shivering     trees;   and    our   hat   brims 

accumulated   in   our   plates   faster   than   we   could   bail   it   out。  The   dishes 

were thrust under a canvas。           Rich and Lester decided to remain with their 

tent; and so we saw them no more until morning。 

     We   broke   off   back…loads   of   mesquite   and   toiled   up   the   hill;   tasting 

thickly the high altitude in the severe labour。             At the big cave we dumped 

down   our   burdens;   transported   our   fuel   piecemeal   to   the   vicinity   of   the 

narrow ledge; built a good fire; sat in a row; and lit our pipes。                   In a few 

moments; the blaze was burning high; and our bodies had ceased shivering。 

Fantastically the firelight revealed the knobs and crevices; the ledges and 

the arching walls。        Their shadows leaped; following the flames; receding 

and     advancing     like   playful    beasts。    Far    above    us   was    a  single    tiny 

opening through which the smoke was sucked as through a chimney。                           The 

glow   ruddied   the   men's   features。       Outside   was   thick   darkness;   and   the 

swish   and   rush   and   roar   of   rising   waters。     Listening;   Windy   Bill   was 

reminded   of   a   story。     We   leaned   back   comfortably   against   the   sloping 

walls of the cave; thrust our feet toward the blaze; smoked; and hearkened 

to the tale of Windy Bill。 

     There's a tur'ble lot of water running loose here; but I've seen the time 

and   place   where   even   what   is   in   that   drip   would   be   worth   a gold   mine。 

That was in the emigrant days。              They used to come over south of here; 

through what they called Emigrant Pass; on their way to Californy。 I was a 

kid then; about eighteen year old; and what I didn't know about Injins and 

Agency cattle wasn't a patch of alkali。               I had a kid outfit of h'ar bridle; 

lots of silver and such; and I used to ride over and be the handsome boy 

before such outfits as happened along。 

     They   were   queer   people;   most   of   'em   from   Missoury   and   such…like 

southern   seaports;   and   they   were   tur'ble   sick   of   travel   by   the   time   they 

come in sight of Emigrant Pass。             Up to Santa Fe they mostly hiked along 

any old way; but once there they herded up together in bunches of twenty 

wagons   or   so;   'count   of   our   old   friends;   Geronimo   and   Loco。       A  good 

many  of   'em   had   horned   cattle   to   their   wagons;   and   they  crawled   along 

about two miles an hour; hotter'n hell with the blower on; nothin' to look at 

but a mountain a week way; chuck full of alkali; plenty of sage…brush and 



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rattlesnakesbut mighty little water。 

     Why;      you   boys    know     that   country     down     there。    Between       the 

Chiricahua Mountains and Emigrant Pass it's maybe a three or four days' 

journey for these yere bull…slingers。 

     Mostly     they   filled   up  their   bellies   and   their  kegs;   hoping    to   last 

through;   but   they   sure   found   it   drier   than   cork   legs;   and   generally   long 

before they hit the Springs their tongues was hangin' out a foot。                 You see; 

for all their plumb nerve in comin' so far; the most of them didn't know 

sic'em。     They   were   plumb   innocent   in   regard   to   savin'   their   water;   and 

Injins;   and   such;   and   the   long…haired   buckskin   fakes   they   picked   up   at 

Santa Fe for guides wasn't much better。 

     That was where Texas Pete made his killing。 

     Texas Pete was a tough citizen from the Lone Star。                 He was about as 

broad     as  he   was   long;   and   wore    all  sorts  of  big   whiskers    and   black 

eyebrows。       His    heart   was    very   bad。   You     never   COULD        tell  where 

Texas Pete was goin' to jump next。            He was a side…winder and a diamond… 

back and a little black rattlesnake all rolled into one。             I believe that Texas 

Pete person cared about as little for killin' a man as for takin' a drinkand 

he shorely drank without an effort。           Peaceable citizens just spoke soft and 

minded their own business; onpeaceable citizens Texas Pete used to plant 

out in the sagebrush。 

     Now this Texas Pete happened to discover a water hole right out in the 

plumb middle of the desert。           He promptly annexed said water hole; digs 

her out; timbers her up; and lays for emigrants。 

     He charged two bits a headman or beastand nobody got a mouthful 

till he paid up in hard coin。 

     Think of the wads he raked in!            I used to figure it up; just for the joy 

of envyin' him; I reckon。         An average twenty…wagon outfit; first and last; 

would   bring   him   in   somewheres   about   fifty   dollarsand   besides   he   had 

forty…rod   at   four   bits   a   glass。 And   outfits   at   that   time   were   thicker'n 

spatter。 

     We   used   all   to   go   down   sometimes   to   watch   them  come   in。    When 

they see that little canvas shack and that well; they begun to cheer up and 

move fast。       And when they see that sign; 〃Water; two bits a head;〃 their 



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eyes stuck out like two raw oysters。 

     Then come the kicks。          What a howl they did raise; shorely。             But it 

didn't do no manner of good。            Texas Pete didn't do nothin' but sit there 

and   smoke;   with   a   kind   of   sulky   gleam   in   one   corner   of   his   eye。 He 

didn't even take the trouble to answer; but his Winchester lay across his lap。 

There wasn't no humour in the situation for him。 

     〃How much is your water for humans?〃 asks one emigrant。 

     〃Can't you read that sign?〃 Texas Pete asks him。 

     〃But you don't mean two bits a head for HUMANS!〃 yells the man。 

〃Why; you can get whisky for that!〃 

     〃You can read the sign; can't you?〃 insists Texas Pete。 

     〃I can read it all right?〃 says the man; tryin' a new deal; 〃but they tell 

me not to believe more'n half I read。〃 

     But that don't go; and Mr。 Emigrant shells out with the rest。 

     I   didn't   blame   them   for   raisin'   their   howl。 Why;   at   that   time   the 

regular   water   holes   was   chargin'   five   cents   a   head   from  the   government 

freighters; and the motto was always 〃Hold up Uncle Sam;〃 at that。                   Once 

in a while some outfit would get mad and go chargin' off dry; but it was a 

long; long way to the Springs; and mighty hot and dusty。                 Texas Pete and 

his one lonesome w

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