eben holden-第24章

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！



As　soon　as　he　was　fairly　started　with　this　droll　narrative　the　strain　of　the　situation　was　relieved。　We　were　all　laughing　as　much　at　his　deliberate　way　of　narration　as　at　the　story　itself。

Suddenly　he　turned　to　Elizabeth　Brower　and　said；　very　soberly；　'Will　you　bring　me　some　water　in　a　glass？'

Then　he　opened　his　chest　of　medicine；　made　some　powders　and　told　us　how　to　give　them。

'In　a　few　days　I　would　take　him　into　the　big　woods　for　a　while；'　he　said。　'See　how　it　agrees　with　him。'

Then　he　gathered　up　his　things　and　mother　went　with　him　to　the　gig。

Humour　was　one　of　the　specifics　of　Doctor　Bigsby。　He　was　always　a　poor　man。　He　had　a　way　of　lumping　his　bills；　at　about　so　much；　in　settlement　and　probably　never　kept　books。　A　side　of　pork　paid　for　many　a　long　journey。　He　came　to　his　death　riding　over　the　hills　one　bitter　day　not　long　after　the　time　of　which　I　write；　to　reach　a　patient。

The　haying　over；　we　made　ready　for　our　trip　into　the　woods。　Uncle　Eb　and　Tip　Taylor；　who　knew　the　forest；　and　myself；　were　to　go　with　Gerald　to　Blueberry　Lake。　We　loaded　our　wagon　with　provisions　one　evening　and　made　ready　to　be　off　at　the　break　of　day。

Chapter　16

I　remember　how　hopefully　we　started　that　morning　with　Elizabeth　Brower　and　Hope　waving　their　handkerchiefs　on　the　porch　and　David　near　them　whittling。　They　had　told　us　what　to　do　and　what　not　to　do　over　and　over　again。　I　sat　with　Gerald　on　blankets　that　were　spread　over　a　thick　mat　of　hay。　The　morning　air　was　sweet　with　the　odour　of　new　hay　and　the　music　of　the　bobolink。　Uncle　Eb　and　Tip　Taylor　sang　merrily　as　we　rode　over　the　hills。

When　we　entered　the　shade　of　the　big　forest　Uncle　Eb　got　out　his　rifle　and　loaded　it。　He　sat　a　long　time　whispering　and　looking　eagerly　for　game　to　right　and　left。　He　was　still　a　boy。　One　could　see　evidences　of　age　only　in　his　white　hair　and　beard　and　wrinkled　brow。　He　retained　the　little　tufts　in　front　of　his　ears；　and　lately　had　grown　a　silver　crescent　of　thin　and　silky　hair　that　circled　his　throat　under　a　bare　clhn。　Young　as　I　was　I　had　no　keener　relish　for　a　holiday　than　he。　At　noon　we　halted　beside　a　brook　and　unhitched　our　horses。　Then　we　caught　some　fish；　built　a　fire　and　cooked　them；　and　brewed　our　tea。　At　sunset　we　halted　at　Tuley　Pond；　looking　along　its　reedy　margin；　under　purple　tamaracks；　for　deer。　There　was　a　great　silence；　here　in　the　deep　of　the　woods；　and　Tip　Taylor's　axe；　while　he　peeled　the　bark　for　our　camp；　seemed　to　fill　the　wilderness　with　echoes。　It　was　after　dark　when　the　shanty　was　covered　and　we　lay　on　its　fragrant　mow　of　balsam　and　hemlock。　The　great　logs　that　we　had　rolled　in　front　of　our　shanty　were　set　afire　and　shortly　supper　was　cooking。

Gerald　had　stood　the　journey　well。　Uncle　Eb　and　he　stayed　in　while　Tip　and　I　got　our　jack　ready　and　went　off　in　quest　of　a　dugout　He　said　Bill　Ellsworth　had　one　hid　in　a　thicket　on　the　south　side　of　Tuley。　We　found　it　after　an　hour's　tramp　near　by。　It　needed　a　little　repairing　but　we　soon　made　it　water　worthy；　and　then　took　our　seats；　he　in　the　stern；　with　the　paddle；　and　I　in　the　bow　with　the　gun。　Slowly　and　silently　we　clove　a　way　through　the　star…sown　shadows。　It　was　like　the　hushed　and　mystic　movement　of　a　dream。　We　seemed　to　be　above　the　deep　of　heaven；　the　stars　below　us。　The　shadow　of　the　forest　in　the　still　water　looked　like　the　wall　of　some　mighty　castle　with　towers　and　battlements　and　myriads　of　windows　lighted　for　a　fete。　Once　the　groan　of　a　nighthawk　fell　out　of　the　upper　air　with　a　sound　like　that　of　a　stone　striking　in　water。　I　thought　little　of　the　deer　Tip　was　after。　His　only　aim　in　life　was　the　one　he　got　with　a　gun　barrel。　I　had　forgotten　all　but　the　beauty　of　the　scene。　Suddenly　Tip　roused　me　by　laying　his　hand　to　the　gunwale　and　gently　shaking　the　dugout。　In　the　dark　distance；　ahead　of　us；　I　could　hear　the　faint　tinkle　of　dripping　water。　Then　I　knew　a　deer　was　feeding　not　far　away　and　that　the　water　was　falling　from　his　muzzle。　When　I　opened　my　jack　we　were　close　upon　him。　His　eyes　gleamed。　I　shot　high　above　the　deer　that　went　splashing　ashore　before　I　had　pulled　my　trigger。　After　the　roar　of　the　gun　had　got　away；　in　the　distant　timber；　Tip　mentioned　a　place　abhorred　of　all　men；　turned　and　paddled　for　the　landing。

'Could　'a　killed　'im　with　a　club；'　said　he　snickering。　'Guess　he　must　a　looked　putty　tall　didn't　he？'

'Why？'　I　asked。

'Cos　ye　aimed　into　the　sky；'　said　hc。　'Mebbe　ye　thought　he　was　a　bird。'

'My　hand　trembled　a　little；'　said　I。

''Minds　me　of　Bill　Barber；'　he　said　in　a　half…whisper；　as　he　worked　his　paddle；　chuckling　with　amusement。

'How's　that？'　I　asked。

'Nothin'　safe　but　the　thing　he　shoots　at；'　said　he。　'Terrible　bad　shot。　Kills　a　cow　every　time　he　goes　huntin'。'

Uncle　Eb　was　stirring　the　fire　when　we　came　whispering　into　camp；　and　Gerald　lay　asleep　under　the　blankets。

'Willie　couldn't　hit　the　broadside　of　a　bam；'　said　Tip。　'He　don't　take　to　it　nat'ral。'

'Killin'　an'　book　learnin'　don't　often　go　together；'　said　Uncle　Eb。

I　turned　in　by　the　side　of　Gerald　and　Uncle　Eb　went　off　with　Tip　for　another　trip　in　the　dugout。　The　night　was　chilly　but　the　fire　flooded　our　shanty　with　its　warm　glow。　what　with　the　light；　and　the　boughs　under　us；　and　the　strangeness　of　the　black　forest　we　got　little　sleep。　I　heard　the　gun　roar　late　in　the　night；　and　when　I　woke　again　Uncle　Eb　and　Tip　Taylor　were　standing　over　the　fire　in　the　chilly　grey　of　the　morning。　A　dead　deer　hung　on　the　limb　of　a　tree　near　by。　They　began　dressing　it　while　Gerald　and　I　went　to　the　spring　for　water；　peeled　potatoes；　and　got　the　pots　boiling。　After　a　hearty　breakfast　we　packed　up；　and　were　soon　on　the　road　again；　reaching　Blueberry　Lake　before　noon。　There　we　hired　a　boat　of　the　lonely　keeper　of　the　reservoir；　found　an　abandoned　camp　with　an　excellent　bark　shanty　and　made　ourselves　at　home。

That　evening　in　camp　was　one　to　be　remembered。　An　Thomas；　the　guide　who　tended　the　reservoir；　came　over　and　sat　beside　our　fire　until　bedtime。　He　had　spent　years　in　the　wilderness　going　out　for　nothing　less　important　than　an　annual　spree　at　circus　time。　He　eyed　us　over；　each　in　turn；　as　if　he　thought　us　all　very　rare　and　interesting。

'Many　bears　here？'　Uncle　Eb　enquired。

'More　plenty　'n　human　bein's；'　he　answered；　puffing　lazily　at　his　pipe　with　a　dead　calm　in　his　voice　and　manner　that　I　have　never　seen　equalled　except　in　a　tropic　sea。

'See　'em　often？'　I　asked。

He　emptied　his　pipe；　striking　it　on　his　palin　until　the　bowl　rang；　without　answering。　Then　he　blew　into　the　stem　with　great　violence。

'Three　or　four　'n　a　summer；　mebbe；'　he　said　at　length。

'Ever　git　sassy？'　Uncle　Eb　asked。

He　whipped　a　coal　out　of　the　ashes　then　and　lifted　it　in　his　fingers　to　the　bowl　of　his　pipe。

'Never　real　sassy；'　he　said　between　vigourous　puffs。　'One　stole　a　ham　off　my　pyazz　las'　summer；　Al　Fifield　brought　't　in　fer　me　one　day　…smelt　good　too！　I　kep'　savin'　uv　it　thinlan'　I'd　enjoy　it　all　the　more　when　I　did　hev　it。　One　day　I　went　off　cuttin'　timber　an'　stayed　'til　mos'　night。　Comin'　home　I　got　t'　thinkin'　o'　thet　ham；　an'　made　up　my　mind　I'd　hev　some　fer　supper。　The　more　I　thought　uv　it　the　faster　I　hurried　an'　when　I　got　hum　I　was　hungrier'n　I'd　been　fer　a　year。　when　I　see　the　ol'　bear's　tracks　an'　the　empty　peg　where　the　ham　had　hung　I　went　t'　work　an；　got　mad。　Then　I　started　after　thet　bear。　Tracked　'im　over　yender；　up　Cat　Mountin'。'

Here　Ab　paused。　He　had　a　way　of　stopping　always　at　the　most　interesting　point　to　puff　at　his　pipe。　It　looked　as　if　he　were　getting　up　steam　for　another　sentence　and　these　delays　had　the　effect　of　'continued　in　our　next'。

'Kill　'im？'　Uncle　Eb　asked。

'Licked　him；'　he　said。

'Huh！'　we　remarked　incredulously。

'Licked　'im；'　he　repeated　chucking。　'Went　into　his　cave　with　a　sledge　stake　an'　whaled　'im　…　whaled　'im　'til　he　run　fer　his　life。'

Whether　it　was　true　or　not　I　have　never　been　sure；　even　to　this　day；　but　Ab's　manner　was　at　once　modest　and　convincing。

'Should　'a　thought　he'd　'a　rassled　with　ye；'　Uncle　Eb　remarked。

'Didn't　give　'im　time；'　said　Ab；　as　he　took　out　his　knife　and　began　slowly　to　sharpen　a　stick。

'Don't　never　wan'　t'　rassle　with　no　bear；'　he　added；　'but　hams　is　too　scurce　here　'n　the　woods　t'　hev