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小说: whirligigs 字数: 每页4000字

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out and talk a few moments on some trivial excuse;

leaving him expecting to see her at her home at seven。



She unpinned her hat and gave it to Mateo。  〃Keep

this; and wait here till I come;〃 she ordered。  Then she

draped the mantilla over her head as she usually did when

walking after sunset; and went straight to the Orilla del

Mar。



She was glad to see the bulky; white…clad figure of

Tio Pancho standing alone on the gallery。



〃Tio Pancho;〃 she said; with a charming smile; 〃may

I trouble you to ask Mr。 Merriam to come out for just a

few moments that I may speak with him?〃



Tio Pancho bowed as an elephant bows。



〃Buenas tardes; Se駉ra Conant;〃 he said; as a cavalier

talks。  And then he went on; less at his ease:



〃But does not the se駉ra know that Se駉r Merriam

sailed on the Pajaro for Panama at three o'clock of this

afternoon?〃







          THE THEORY AND THE HOUND



NOT many days ago my old friend from the tropics;

J。 P。 Bridger; United States consul on the island of Ratona;

was in the city。  We had wassail and jubilee and saw

the Flatiron building; and missed seeing the Bronxless

menagerie by about a couple of nights。  And then; at the

ebb tide; we were walking up a street that parallels and

parodies Broadway。



A woman with a comely and mundane countenance

passed us; holding in leash a wheezing; vicious; waddling;

brute of a yellow pug。  The dog entangled himself with

Bridger's legs and mumbled his ankles in a snarling;

peevish; sulky bite。  Bridger; with a happy smile; kicked

the breath out of the brute; the woman showered us

with a quick rain of well…conceived adjectives that left

us in no doubt as to our place in her opinion; and we

passed on。  Ten yards farther an old woman with dis…

ordered white hair and her bankbook tucked well hidden

beneath her tattered shawl begged。  Bridger stopped

and disinterred for her a quarter from his holiday waist…

coat。



On the next corner a quarter of a ton of well…clothed

man with a rice…powdered; fat; white jowl; stood holding

the chain of a devil…born bulldog whose forelegs were

strangers by the length of a dachshund。  A little woman

in a last…season's hat confronted him and wept; which

was plainly all she could do; while he cursed her in low

sweet; practised tones。



Bridger smiled again  strictly to himself  and this

time he took out a little memorandum book and made

a note of it。  This he had no right to do without due

explanation; and I said so。



〃It's a new theory;〃 said Bridger; 〃that I picked up

down in Ratona。  I've been gathering support for it as I

knock about。  The world isn't ripe for it yet; but  well

I'll tell you; and then you run your mind back along the

people you've known and see what you make of it。〃



And so I cornered Bridger in a place where they have

artificial palms and wine; and he told me the story which

is here in my words and on his responsibility。



One afternoon at three o'clock; on the island of Ratona;

a boy raced alongthe beach screaming; 〃Pajaro; ahoy!〃



Thus he made known the keenness of his hearing and

the justice of his discrimination in pitch。



He who first heard and made oral proclamation con…

cerning the toot of an approaching steamer's whistle; and

correctly named the steamer; was a small hero in Ratona

…until the' next steamer came。  Wherefore; there was

rivalry among the barefoot youth of Ratona; and many

fell victims to the softly blown conch shells of sloops which;

as they enter harbour; sound surprisingly like a distant

steamer's signal。  And some could name you the vessel

when its call; in your duller ears; sounded no louder than

the sigh of the wind through the branches of the cocoa…

nut palms。



But to…day he who proclaimed the Pajaro gained his

honours。  Ratona bent its ear to listen; and soon the

deep…tongued blast grew louder and nearer; and at length

Ratona saw above the line of palms on the low 〃joint〃

the two black funnels of the fruiter slowly creeping toward

the mouth of the harbour。



You must know that Ratona is an island twenty miles

off the south of a South American republic。  It is a port

of that republic; and it sleeps sweetly in a smiling sea;

toiling not nor spinning; fed by the abundant tropics

where all things 〃ripen; cease and fall toward the grave。〃



Eight hundred people dream life away in a green…

embowered village that follows the horseshoe curve of

its bijou harbour。  They are mostly Spanish and Indian

mestizos; with a shading of San Domingo Negroes; a

lightening of pure…blood Spanish officials and a slight

leavening of the froth of three or four pioneering white

races。  No steamers touch at Ratona save the fruit steamers

which take on their banana inspectors there on their way

to the coast。  They leave Sunday newspapers; ice; quinine;

bacon; watermelons and vaccine matter at the island and

that is about all the touch Ratona gets with the world。



The Pajaro paused at the mouth of the harbour; roll

ing heavily in the swell that sent the whitecaps racing

beyond the smooth water inside。  Already two dories

from the village  one conveying fruit inspectors; the

other going for what it could get  were halfway out to

the steamer。



The inspectors' dory was taken on board with them;

and the Pajaro steamed away for the mainland for its

load of fruit。



The other boat returned to Ratona bearing a contri…

bution from the Pajaro's store of ice; the usual roll of

newspapers and one passenger  Taylor Plunkett; sheriff

of Chatham County; Kentucky。



Bridger; the United States consul at Ratona; was clean…

ing his rifle in the official shanty under a bread…fruit tree

twenty yards from the water of the harbour。  The consul

occupied a place somewhat near the tail of his political

party's procession。  The music of the band wagon

sounded very faintly to him in the distance。  The plums

of office went to others。  Bridger's share of the spoils 

the consulship at Ratona  was little more than a prune

 a dried prune from the boarding…house department

of the public crib。  But 900 yearly was opulence in

Ratona。  Besides; Bridger had contracted a passion for

shooting alligators in the lagoons near his consulate; and

was not unhappy。



He looked up from a careful inspection of his rifle lock

a broad man filling his doorway。  A broad;

noiseless; slow…moving man; sunburned almost to the

Vandyke。  A man of forty…five; neatly clothed in

homespun; with scanty light hair; a close…clipped brown…

and…gray beard and pale…blue eyes expressing mildness

implicity。



〃You are Mr。 Bridger; the consul;〃 said the broad

man。  〃They directed me here。  Can you tell me what

those big bunches of things like gourds are in those trees

that look like feather dusters along the edge of the water?〃



〃Take that chair;〃 said the consul; reoiling his clean…

ing rag。  〃No; the other one  that bamboo thing won't

hold you。  Why; they're cocoanuts  green cocoanuts。

The shell of 'em is always a light green before they're

ripe。〃



〃Much obliged;〃 said the other man; sitting down

carefully。  〃I didn't quite like to tell the folks at home

they were olives unless I was sure about it。  My name

is Plunkett。  I'm sheriff of Chatham County; Kentucky。

I've got extradition papers in my pocket authorizing the

arrest of a man on this island。  They've been signed by

the President of this country; and they're in correct shape。

The man's name is Wade Williams。  He's in the cocoa…

nut raising business。  What he's wanted for is the murder

of his wife two years ago。  Where can I find him?〃



The consul squinted an eye and looked through his

rifle barrel。



〃There's nobody on the island who calls himself 'Wil…

liams;'〃 he remarked。



〃Didn't suppose there was;〃 said Plunkett mildly。

〃He'll do by any other name。〃



〃Besides myself;〃 said Bridger; 〃there are only

two Americans on Ratona  Bob Reeves and Henry

Morgan。〃



〃The man I want sells cocoanuts;〃 suggested Plunkett。



〃You see that cocoanut walk extending up to the

point?〃  said the consul; waving his hand toward the open

door。  〃That belongs to Bob Reeves。  Henry Morgan

owns half the trees to loo'ard on the island。〃



〃One; month ago;〃 said the sheriff; 〃Wade Williams

wrote a confidential letter to a man in Chatham county;

telling him where he was and how he was getting along。

The letter was lost; and the person that found it gave it

away。  They sent me after him; and I've got the papers。

I reckon he's one of your cocoanut men for certain。〃



〃You've got his picture; of course;〃 said Bridger。

〃It might be Reeves or Morgan; but I'd hate to think it。

They're both as fine fellows as you'd meet in an all…day

auto ride。〃



〃No;〃 doubtfully answered Plunkett; 〃there wasn't

any picture of Williams to be had。  And I never saw him

myself。  I've been sheriff onl

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