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第23章

to the last man-第23章

小说: to the last man 字数: 每页4000字

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Ellen not only with what just had been told; but particularly with
what was to follow。  The reciting of this tale had evidently given
Sprague an unconscious pleasure。  He glowed。  He seemed to carry the
burden of a secret that he yearned to divulge。  As for Ellen; she was
deadlocked in breathless suspense。  All her emotions waited for the end。
She begged Sprague to hurry。

〃Wal; I wish I could skip the next chapter an' hev only the last to
tell;〃 rejoined the old man; and he put a heavy; but solicitous; hand
upon hers。 。 。 。 Simm Bruce haw…hawed loud an' loud。 。 。 。 'Say; Nez
Perce;' he calls out; most insolent…like; 'we air too good sheepmen
heah to hev the wool pulled over our eyes。  We shore know what y'u
meant by Ellen Jorth。  But y'u wasn't smart when y'u told her y'u was
Jean Isbel! 。 。 。 Haw…haw!'

〃Isbel flashed a strange; surprised look from the red…faced Bruce to
Greaves and to the other men。  I take it he was wonderin' if he'd
heerd right or if they'd got the same hunch thet 'd come to him。
An' I reckon he determined to make sure。

〃'Why wasn't I smart?' he asked。

〃'Shore y'u wasn't smart if y'u was aimin' to be one of Ellen Jorth's
lovers;' said Bruce; with a leer。  'Fer if y'u hedn't give y'urself
away y'u could hev been easy enough。'

〃Thar was no mistakin' Bruce's meanin' an' when he got it out some of
the men thar laughed。  Isbel kept lookin' from one to another of them。
Then facin' Greaves; he said; deliberately: 'Greaves; this drunken
Bruce is excuse enough fer a show…down。  I take it that you are
sheepmen; an' you're goin' on Jorth's side of the fence in the matter
of this sheep rangin'。'

〃'Wal; Nez Perce; I reckon you hit plumb center;' said Greaves; dryly。
He spread wide his big hands to the other men; as if to say they'd
might as well own the jig was up。

〃'All right。  You're Jorth's backers。  Have any of you a word to say
in Ellen Jorth's defense?  I tell you the Mexican lied。  Believin' me
or not doesn't matter。  But this vile…mouthed Bruce hinted against thet
girl's honor。'

〃Ag'in some of the men laughed; but not so noisy; an' there was a
nervous shufflin' of feet。  Isbel looked sort of queer。  His neck
had a bulge round his collar。  An' his eyes was like black coals of
fire。  Greaves spread his big hands again; as if to wash them of this
part of the dirty argument。

〃'When it comes to any wimmen I passmuch less play a hand fer a
wildcat like Jorth's gurl;' said Greaves; sort of cold an' thick。
'Bruce shore ought to know her。  Accordin' to talk heahaboots an'
what HE says; Ellen Jorth has been his gurl fer two years。'

〃Then Isbel turned his attention to Bruce an' I fer one begun to
shake in my boots。

〃'Say thet to me!' he called。

〃'Shore she's my gurl; an' thet's why Im a…goin' to hev y'u run off
this range。'

〃Isbel jumped at Bruce。  'You damned drunken cur!  You vile…mouthed liar!
。 。 。 。 I may be an Isbel; but by God you cain't slander thet girl to
my face! 。 。 。 Then he moved so quick I couldn't see what he did。
But I heerd his fist hit Bruce。  It sounded like an ax ag'in' a beef。
Bruce fell clear across the room。  An' by Jinny when he landed Isbel
was thar。  As Bruce staggered up; all bloody…faced; bellowin' an'
spittin' out teeth Isbel eyed Greaves's crowd an' said: 'If any of
y'u make a move it 'll mean gun…play。'  Nobody moved; thet's sure。
In fact; none of Greaves's outfit was packin' guns; at least in sight。
When Bruce got all the way uphe's a tall fellarwhy Isbel took a
full swing at him an' knocked him back across the room ag'in' the
counter。  Y'u know when a fellar's hurt by the way he yells。  Bruce
got thet second smash right on his big red nose。 。 。 。 I never seen
any one so quick as Isbel。  He vaulted over thet counter jest the
second Bruce fell back on it; an' then; with Greaves's gang in front
so he could catch any moves of theirs; he jest slugged Bruce right
an' left; an' banged his head on the counter。  Then as Bruce sunk
limp an' slipped down; lookin' like a bloody sack; Isbel let him
fall to the floor。  Then he vaulted back over the counter。  Wipin'
the blood off his hands; he throwed his kerchief down in Bruce's
face。  Bruce wasn't dead or bad hurt。  He'd jest been beaten bad。
He was moanin' an' slobberin'。  Isbel kicked him; not hard; but jest
sort of disgustful。  Then he faced thet crowd。  'Greaves; thet's what
I think of your Simm Bruce。  Tell him next time he sees me to run or
pull a gun。'  An' then Isbel grabbed his rifle an' package off the
counter an' went out。  He didn't even look back。  I seen him nount
his horse an' ride away。 。 。 。 Now; girl; what hev you to say?〃

Ellen could only say good…by and the word was so low as to be almost
inaudible。  She ran to her burro。  She could not see very clearly
through tear…blurred eyes; and her shaking fingers were all thumbs。
It seemed she had to rush awaysomewhere; anywherenot to get away
from old John Sprague; but from herselfthis palpitating; bursting
self whose feet stumbled down the trail。  Allall seemed ended for
her。  That interminable story!  It had taken so long。  And every
minute of it she had been helplessly torn asunder by feelings she
had never known she possessed。  This Ellen Jorth was an unknown
creature。  She sobbed now as she dragged the burro down the canyon
trail。  She sat down only to rise。  She hurried only to stop。  Driven;
pursued; barred; she had no way to escape the flaying thoughts; no time
or will to repudiate them。  The death of her girlhood; the rending aside
of a veil of maiden mystery only vaguely instinctively guessed; the
barren; sordid truth of her life as seen by her enlightened eyes; the
bitter realization of the vileness of men of her clan in contrast to
the manliness and chivalry of an enemy; the hard facts of unalterable
repute as created by slander and fostered by low minds; all these were
forces in a cataclysm that had suddenly caught her heart and whirled
her through changes immense and agonizing; to bring her face to face
with reality; to force upon her suspicion and doubt of all she had
trusted; to warn her of the dark; impending horror of a tragic bloody
feud; and lastly to teach her the supreme truth at once so glorious
and so terriblethat she could not escape the doom of womanhood。

About noon that day Ellen Jorth arrived at the Knoll; which was the
location of her father's ranch。  Three canyons met there to form a
larger one。  The knoll was a symmetrical hill situated at the mouth of
the three canyons。  It was covered with brush and cedars; with here and
there lichened rocks showing above the bleached grass。  Below the Knoll
was a wide; grassy flat or meadow through which a willow…bordered stream
cut its rugged boulder…strewn bed。  Water flowed abundantly at this
season; and the deep washes leading down from the slopes attested to
the fact of cloudbursts and heavy storms。  This meadow valley was dotted
with horses and cattle; and meandered away between the timbered slopes
to lose itself in a green curve。  A singular feature of this canyon was
that a heavy growth of spruce trees covered the slope facing northwest;
and the opposite slope; exposed to the sun and therefore less snowbound
in winter; held a sparse growth of yellow pines。  The ranch house of
Colonel Jorth stood round the rough comer of the largest of the three
canyons; and rather well hidden; it did not obtrude its rude and
broken…down log cabins; its squalid surroundings; its black mud…holes
of corrals upon the beautiful and serene meadow valley。

Ellen Jorth approached her home slowly; with dragging; reluctant steps;
and never before in the three unhappy years of her existence there had
the ranch seemed so bare; so uncared for; so repugnant to her。  As she
had seen herself with clarified eyes; so now she saw her home。  The
cabin that Ellen lived in with her father was a single…room structure
with one door and no windows。  It was about twenty feet square。  The
huge; ragged; stone chimney had been built on the outside; with the
wide open fireplace set inside the logs。  Smoke was rising from the
chimney。  As Ellen halted at the door and began unpacking her burro
she heard the loud; lazy 

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