drift from two shores(漂流)-第21节
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conversation； had he been disposed to satisfy my curiosity。
We toiled on in silence； the buckeye giving way to chimisal； the
westering sun； reflected again from the blank walls beside us； blinding our
eyes with its glare。 The pines in the canyon below were olive gulfs of
heat； over which a hawk here and there drifted lazily； or； rising to our level；
cast a weird and gigantic shadow of slowly moving wings on the mountain
side。 The superiority of the stranger's horse led him often far in advance；
and made me hope that he might forget me entirely； or push on； growing
weary of waiting。 But regularly he would halt by a bowlder； or reappear
from some chimisal； where he had patiently halted。 I was beginning to
hate him mildly； when at one of those reappearances he drew up to my
side； and asked me how I liked Dickens！
Had he asked my opinion of Huxley or Darwin； I could not have been
more astonished。 Thinking it were possible that he referred to some local
celebrity of Lagrange； I said； hesitatingly：
〃You mean〃
〃Charles Dickens。 Of course you've read him？ Which of his books
do you like best？〃
I replied with considerable embarrassment that I liked them all； as I
certainly did。
He grasped my hand for a moment with a fervor quite unlike his usual
phlegm； and said； 〃That's me； old man。 Dickens ain't no slouch。 You
can count on him pretty much all the time。〃
With this rough preface； he launched into a criticism of the novelist；
which for intelligent sympathy and hearty appreciation I had rarely heard
equaled。 Not only did he dwell upon the exuberance of his humor； but
upon the power of his pathos and the all…pervading element of his poetry。
I looked at the man in astonishment。 I had considered myself a rather
diligent student of the great master of fiction； but the stranger's felicity of
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quotation and illustration staggered me。 It is true； that his thought was
not always clothed in the best language； and often appeared in the
slouching； slangy undress of the place and period； yet it never was rustic
nor homespun； and sometimes struck me with its precision and fitness。
Considerably softened toward him； I tried him with other literature。 But
vainly。 Beyond a few of the lyrical and emotional poets； he knew
nothing。 Under the influence and enthusiasm of his own speech； he
himself had softened considerably； offered to change horses with me；
readjusted my saddle with professional skill； transferred my pack to his
own horse； insisted upon my sharing the contents of his whisky flask； and；
noticing that I was unarmed； pressed upon me a silver…mounted Derringer；
which he assured me he could 〃warrant。〃 These various offices of good
will and the diversion of his talk beguiled me from noticing the fact that
the trail was beginning to become obscure and unrecognizable。 We were
evidently pursuing a route unknown before to me。 I pointed out the fact
to my companion； a little impatiently。 He instantly resumed his old
manner and dialect。
〃Well； I reckon one trail's as good as another； and what hev ye got to
say about it？〃
I pointed out； with some dignity； that I preferred the old trail。
〃Mebbe you did。 But you're jiss now takin' a pasear with ME。 This
yer trail will bring you right into Indian Spring； and ONNOTICED； and no
questions asked。 Don't you mind now； I'll see you through。〃
It was necessary here to make some stand against my strange
companion。 I said firmly； yet as politely as I could； that I had proposed
stopping over night with a friend。
〃Whar？〃
I hesitated。 The friend was an eccentric Eastern man； well known in
the locality for his fastidiousness and his habits as a recluse。 A
misanthrope； of ample family and ample means； he had chosen a secluded
but picturesque valley in the Sierras where he could rail against the world
without opposition。 〃Lone Valley；〃 or 〃Boston Ranch；〃 as it was
familiarly called； was the one spot that the average miner both respected
and feared。 Mr。 Sylvester； its proprietor； had never affiliated with 〃the
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boys；〃 nor had he ever lost their respect by any active opposition to their
ideas。 If seclusion had been his object； he certainly was gratified。
Nevertheless； in the darkening shadows of the night； and on a lonely and
unknown trail； I hesitated a little at repeating his name to a stranger of
whom I knew so little。 But my mysterious companion took the matter
out of my hands。
〃Look yar；〃 he said； suddenly； 〃thar ain't but one place twixt yer and
Indian Spring whar ye can stop； and that is Sylvester's。〃
I assented； a little sullenly。
〃Well；〃 said the stranger； quietly； and with a slight suggestion of
conferring a favor on me； 〃ef yer pointed for Sylvester'swhyI DON'T
MIND STOPPING THAR WITH YE。 It's a little off the roadI'll lose
some timebut taking it by and large； I don't much mind。〃
I stated； as rapidly and as strongly as I could； that my acquaintance
with Mr。 Sylvester did not justify the introduction of a stranger to his
hospitality； that he was unlike most of the people here；in short； that he
was a queer man； etc。； etc。
To my surprise my companion answered quietly： 〃Oh； that's all right。
I've heerd of him。 Ef you don't feel like checking me through； or if you'd
rather put 'C。 O。 D。' on my back； why it's all the same to me。 I'll play it
alone。 Only you just count me in。 Say 'Sylvester' all the time。 That's
me！〃
What could I oppose to this man's quiet assurance？ I felt myself
growing red with anger and nervous with embarrassment。 What would
the correct Sylvester say to me？ What would the girls；I was a young
man then； and had won an entree to their domestic circle by my reserve；
known by a less complimentary adjective among 〃the boys；〃what would
they say to my new acquaintance？ Yet I certainly could not object to his
assuming all risks on his own personal recognizances； nor could I resist a
certain feeling of shame at my embarrassment。
We were beginning to descend。 In the distance below us already
twinkled the lights in the solitary rancho of Lone Valley。 I turned to my
companion。 〃But you have forgotten that I don't even know your name。
What am I to call you？〃
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〃That's so；〃 he said； musingly。 〃Now； let's see。 'Kearney' would be
a good name。 It's short and easy like。 Thar's a street in 'Frisco the same
title； Kearney it is。〃
〃But〃 I began impatiently。
〃Now you leave all that to me；〃 he interrupted； with a superb self…
confidence that I could not but admire。 〃The name ain't no account。 It's
the man that's responsible。 Ef I was to lay for a man that I reckoned was
named Jones； and after I fetched him I found out on the inquest that his
real name was Smith； that wouldn't make no matter； as long as I got the
man。〃
The illustration； forcible as it was； did not strike me as offering a
prepossessing introduction； but we were already at the rancho。 The
barking of dogs brought Sylvester to the door of the pretty little cottage
which his taste had adorned。
I briefly introduced Mr。 Kearney。 〃Kearney will doKearney's good
enough for me；〃 commented the soi…disant Kearney half…aloud； to my own
horror and Sylvester's evident mystification； and then he blandly excused
himself for a moment that he might personally supervise the care of his
own beast。 When he was out of ear…shot I drew the puzzled Sylvester
aside。
〃I have picke
