the story of an african farm-第20章
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the grey mare。 Now Doss had wondered much of late what had become of her
master。 Seeing she carried some one on her back; he now came to his own
conclusion; and began to move his tail violently up and down。 Presently he
pricked up one ear and let the other hang; his tail became motionless; and
the expression of his mouth was one of decided disapproval bordering on
scorn。 He wrinkled his lips up on each side into little lines。
The sand was soft; and the grey mare came on so noiselessly that the boy
heard nothing till Bonaparte dismounted。 Then Doss got up and moved back a
step。 He did not approve of Bonaparte's appearance。 His costume; in
truth; was of a unique kind。 It was a combination of the town and country。
The tails of his black cloth coat were pinned up behind to keep them from
rubbing; he had on a pair of moleskin trousers and leather gaiters; and in
his hand he carried a little whip of rhinoceros hide。
Waldo started and looked up。 Had there been a moment's time he would have
dug a hole in the sand with his hands and buried his treasure。 It was only
a toy of wood; but he loved it; as one of necessity loves what has been
born of him; whether of the flesh or spirit。 When cold eyes have looked at
it; the feathers are rubbed off our butterfly's wing forever。
〃What have you here; my lad?〃 said Bonaparte; standing by him; and pointing
with the end of his whip to the medley of wheels and hinges。
The boy muttered something inaudible; and half spread over the thing。
〃But this seems to be a very ingenious little machine;〃 said Bonaparte;
seating himself on the antheap; and bending down over it with deep
interest。 〃What is it for; my lad?〃
〃Shearing sheep。〃
〃It is a very nice little machine;〃 said Bonaparte。 〃How does it work;
now? I have never seen anything so ingenious!〃
There was never a parent who heard deception in the voice that praised his
childhis first…born。 Here was one who liked the thing that had been
created in him。 He forgot everything。 He showed how the shears would work
with a little guidance; how the sheep would be held; and the wool fall into
the trough。 A flush burst over his face as he spoke。
〃I tell you what; my lad;〃 said Bonaparte emphatically; when the
explanation was finished; 〃we must get you a patent。 Your fortune is made。
In three years' time there'll not be a farm in this colony where it isn't
working。 You're a genius; that's what you are!〃 said Bonaparte; rising。
〃If it were made larger;〃 said the boy; raising his eyes; 〃it would work
more smoothly。 Do you think there would be any one in this colony would be
able to make it?〃
〃I'm sure they could;〃 said Bonaparte; 〃and if not; why I'll do my best for
you。 I'll send it to England。 It must be done somehow。 How long have you
worked at it?〃
〃Nine months;〃 said the boy。
〃Oh; it is such a nice little machine;〃 said Bonaparte; 〃one can't help
feeling an interest in it。 There is only one little improvement; one very
little improvement; I should like to make。〃
Bonaparte put his foot on the machine and crushed it into the sand。 The
boy looked up into his face。
〃Looks better now;〃 said Bonaparte; 〃doesn't it? If we can't have it made
in England we'll send it to America。 Good…bye; ta…ta;〃 he added。 〃You're
a great genius; a born genius; my dear boy; there's no doubt about it。〃
He mounted the grey mare and rode off。 The dog watched his retreat with
cynical satisfaction; but his master lay on the ground with his head on his
arms in the sand; and the little wheels and chips of wood lay on the ground
around him。 The dog jumped on to his back and snapped at the black curls;
till; finding that no notice was taken; he walked off to play with a black
beetle。 The beetle was hard at work trying to roll home a great ball of
dung it had been collecting all the morning: but Doss broke the ball; and
ate the beetle's hind legs; and then bit off its head。 And it was all
play; and no one could tell what it had lived and worked for。 A striving;
and a striving; and an ending in nothing。
Chapter 1。XI。 He Snaps。
〃I have found something in the loft;〃 said Em to Waldo; who was listlessly
piling cakes of fuel on the kraal wall; a week after。 〃It is a box of
books that belonged to my father。 We thought Tant Sannie had burnt them。〃
The boy put down the cake he was raising and looked at her。
〃I don't think they are very nice; not stories;〃 she added; 〃but you can go
and take any you like。〃
So saying; she took up the plate in which she had brought his breakfast;
and walked off to the house。
After that the boy worked quickly。 The pile of fuel Bonaparte had ordered
him to pack was on the wall in half an hour。 He then went to throw salt on
the skins laid out to dry。 Finding the pot empty; he went to the loft to
refill it。
Bonaparte Blenkins; whose door opened at the foot of the ladder; saw the
boy go up; and stood in the doorway waiting for his return。 He wanted his
boots blacked。 Doss; finding he could not follow his master up the round
bars; sat patiently at the foot of the ladder。 Presently he looked up
longingly; but no one appeared。 Then Bonaparte looked up also; and began
to call; but there was no answer。 What could the boy be doing? The loft
was an unknown land to Bonaparte。 He had often wondered what was up there;
he liked to know what was in all locked…up places and out…of…the…way
corners; but he was afraid to climb the ladder。 So Bonaparte looked up;
and in the name of all that was tantalizing; questioned what the boy did up
there。 The loft was used only as a lumber…room。 What could the fellow
find up there to keep him so long?
Could the Boer…woman have beheld Waldo at that instant; any lingering doubt
which might have remained in her mind as to the boy's insanity would
instantly have vanished。 For; having filled the salt…pot; he proceeded to
look for the box of books among the rubbish that filled the loft。 Under a
pile of sacks he found ita rough packing…case; nailed up; but with one
loose plank。 He lifted that; and saw the even backs of a row of books。 He
knelt down before the box; and ran his hand along its rough edges; as if to
assure himself of its existence。 He stuck his hand in among the books; and
pulled out two。 He felt them; thrust his fingers in among the leaves; and
crumpled them a little; as a lover feels the hair of his mistress。 The
fellow gloated over his treasure。 He had had a dozen books in the course
of his life; now here was a mine of them opened at his feet。 After a while
he began to read the titles; and now and again opened a book and read a
sentence; but he was too excited to catch the meanings distinctly。 At last
he came to a dull; brown volume。 He read the name; opened it in the
centre; and where he opened began to read。 It was a chapter on property
that he fell uponCommunism; Fourierism; St。 Simonism; in a work on
Political Economy。 He read down one page and turned over to the next; he
read down that without changing his posture by an inch; he read the next;
and the next; kneeling up all the while with the book in his hand; and his
lips parted。
All he read he did not fully understand; the thoughts were new to him; but
this was the fellow's startled joy in the bookthe thoughts were his; they
belonged to him。 He had never thought them before; but they were his。
He laughed silently and internally; with the still intensity of triumphant
joy。
So; then; all thinking creatures did not send up the one cry〃As thou;
dear Lord; has created things in the beginning; so are they now; so ought
they to be; so will they be; world without end; and it doesn't concern us
what they are。 Amen。〃 There were men to whom not only kopjes and stones
were calling out imperatively; 〃What are we; and how came we here?
Understand us; and know us;〃 but to whom even the old; o