the seventh man-第1部分

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The　Seventh　Man

by　Max　Brand




Chapter　I。　Spring

A　man　under　thirty　needs　neighbors　and　to　stop　up　the　current　of　his　life　with　a　long　silence　is　like　obstructing　a　rivereventually　the　water　either　sweeps　away　the　dam　or　rises　over　it；　and　the　stronger　the　dam　the　more　destructive　is　that　final　rush　to　freedom。　Vic　Gregg　was　on　the　danger　side　of　thirty　and　he　lived　alone　in　the　mountains　all　that　winter。　He　wanted　to　marry　Betty　Neal；　but　marriage　means　money；　therefore　Vic　contracted　fifteen　hundred　dollars'　worth　of　mining　for　the　Duncans；　and　instead　of　taking　a　partner　he　went　after　that　stake　single　handed。　He　is　a　very　rare　man　who　can　turn　out　that　amount　of　labor　in　a　single　season；　but　Gregg　furnished　that　exception　which　establishes　the　rule：　he　did　the　assessment　work　on　fourteen　claims　and　almost　finished　the　fifteenth；　yet　he　paid　the　price。　Week　after　week　his　set　of　drills　was　wife　and　child　to　him；　and　for　conversation　he　had　only　the　clangor　of　the　four…pound　single…jack　on　the　drill　heads；　with　the　crashing　of　the　〃shots〃　now　and　then　as　periods　to　the　chatter　of　iron　on　iron。　He　kept　at　it；　and　in　the　end　he　almost　finished　the　allotted　work；　but　for　all　of　it　he　paid　in　full。

The　acid　loneliness　ate　into　him。　To　be　sure；　from　boyhood　he　knew　the　mountain　quiet；　the　still　heights　and　the　solemn　echoes；　but　towards　the　close　of　the　long　isolation　the　end　of　each　day　found　him　oppressed　by　a　weightier　sense　of　burden；　in　a　few　days　he　would　begin　to　talk　to　himself。

From　the　first　the　evening　pause　after　supper　hurt　him　most；　for　a　man　needs　a　talk　as　well　as　tobacco；　and　after　a　time　he　dreaded　these　evenings　so　bitterly　that　he　purposely　spent　himself　every　day；　so　as　to　pass　from　supper　into　sleep　at　a　stride。　It　needed　a　long　day　to　burn　out　his　strength　thoroughly；　so　he　set　his　rusted　alarm…clock；　and　before　dawn　it　brought　him　groaning　out　of　the　blankets　to　cook　a　hasty　breakfast　and　go　slowly　up　to　the　tunnel。　In　short；　he　wedded　himself　to　his　work；　he　stepped　into　a　routine　which　took　the　place　of　thought；　and　the　change　in　him　was　so　gradual　that　he　did　not　see　the　danger。

A　mirror　might　have　shown　it　to　him　as　he　stood　this　morning　at　the　door　of　his　lean…to；　for　the　wind　fluttered　the　shirt　around　his　labor…dried　body；　and　his　forehead　puckered　in　a　frown；　grown　habitual。　It　was　a　narrow　face；　with　rather　close…set　eyes　and　a　slanted　forehead　which　gave　token　of　a　single…track　mind；　a　single…purposed　nature　with　one　hundred　and　eighty　pounds　of　strong　sinews　and　iron…hard　muscle　to　give　it　significance。　Such　was　Vic　Gregg　as　he　stood　at　the　door　waiting　for　the　coffee　he　had　drunk　to　brush　away　the　cobwebs　of　sleep；　and　then　he　heard　the　eagle　scream。

A　great　many　people　have　never　heard　the　scream　of　an　eagle。　The　only　voice　they　connect　with　the　kind　of　the　air　is　a　ludicrously　feeble　squawk；　dim　with　distance；　but　in　his　great　moments　the　eagle　has　a　war…cry　like　that　of　the　hawk；　but　harsher；　hoarser；　tenfold　in　volume。　This　sound　cut　into　the　night　in　the　gulch；　and　Vic　Gregg　started　and　glanced　about　for　echoes　made　the　sound　stand　at　his　side；　then　he　looked　up；　and　saw　two　eagles　fighting　in　the　light　of　the　morning。　He　knew　what　it　meantthe　beginning　of　the　mating　season；　and　these　two　battling　for　a　prize。　They　darted　away。　They　flashed　together　with　reaching　talons　and　gaping　beaks；　and　dropped　in　a　tumult　of　wings；　then　soared　and　clashed　once　more　until　one　of　them　folded　his　wings　and　dropped　bulletlike　out　of　the　morning　into　the　night。　Close　over　Gregg's　head；　the　wings　flirted　outten　feet　from　tip　to　tipbeat　down　with　a　great　washing　sound；　and　the　bird　shot　across　the　valley　in　a　level　flight。　The　conqueror　screamed　a　long　insult　down　the　hollow。　For　a　while　he　balanced；　craning　his　bald　head　as　if　he　sought　applause；　then；　without　visible　movement　of　his　wings；　sailed　away　over　the　peaks。　A　feather　fluttered　slowly　down　past　Vic　Gregg。

He　looked　down　to　it；　and　rubbed　the　ache　out　of　the　back　of　his　neck。　All　about　him　the　fresh　morning　was　falling；　yonder　shone　a　green…mottled　face　of　granite；　and　there　a　red　iron　blow…out　streaked　with　veins　of　glittering　silicate；　and　in　this　corner；　still　misted　with　the　last　delicate　shades　of　night；　glimmered　rhyolite；　lavender…pink。　The　single…jack　dropped　from　the　hand　of　Gregg；　and　his　frown　relaxed。

When　he　stretched　his　arms；　the　cramps　of　labor　unkinked　and　let　the　warm　blood　flow；　swiftly；　and　in　the　pleasure　of　it　he　closed　his　eyes　and　drew　a　luxurious　breath。　He　stepped　from　the　door　with　his；　head　high　and　his　heart　lighter；　and　when　his　hobnailed　shoe　clinked　on　the　fallen　hammer　he　kicked　it　spinning　from　his　path。　That　act　brought　a　smile　into　his　eyes；　and　he　sauntered　to　the　edge　of　the　little　plateau　and　looked　down　into　the　wide　chasm　of　the　Asper　Valley。

Blue　shadows　washed　across　it；　though　morning　shone　around　Gregg　on　the　height；　and　his　glance　dropped　in　a　two…thousand…foot　plunge　to　a　single　yellow　eye　that　winked　through　the　darkness；　a　light　in　the　trapper's　cabin。　But　the　dawn　was　falling　swiftly　now；　and　while　Gregg　lingered　the　blue　grew　thin；　purple…tinted；　and　then　dark；　slender　points　pricked　up；　which　he　knew　to　be　the　pines。　Last　of　all；　he　caught　the　sheen　of　grass。

Around　him　pressed　a　perfect　silence；　the　quiet　of　night　holding　over　into　the　day；　yet　he　cast　a　glance　behind　him　as　he　heard　a　voice。　Indeed；　he　felt　that　some　one　approached　him；　some　one　for　whom　he　had　been　waiting；　yet　it　was　a　sad　expectancy；　and　more　like　homesickness　than　anything　he　knew。

〃Aw；　hell；〃　said　Vic　Gregg；　〃it's　spring。〃

A　deep…throated　echo　boomed　back　at　him；　and　the　sound　went　down　the　gulch；　three　times　repeated。

〃Spring；〃　repeated　Gregg　more　softly；　as　if　he　feared　to　rouse　that　echo；　〃damned　if　it　ain't！〃

He　shrugged　his　shoulders　and　turned　resolutely　towards　the　lean…to；　picking　up　the　discarded　hammer　on　the　way。　By　instinct　he　caught　it　at　exactly　the　right　balance　for　his　strength　and　arm；　and　the　handle；　polished　by　his　grip；　played　with　an　oiled；　frictionless　movement　against　the　callouses　of　his　palm。　From　the　many　hours　of　drilling；　fingers　crooked；　he　could　only　straighten　them　by　a　painful　effort。　A　bad　hand　for　cards；　he　decided　gloomily；　and　still　frowning　over　this　he　reached　the　door。　There　he　paused　in　instant　repugnance；　for　the　place　was　strange　to　him。

In　thought　and　wish　he　was　even　now　galloping　Grey　Molly　over　the　grass　along　the　Asper；　and　he　had　to　wrench　himself　into　the　mood　of　the　patient　miner。　There　lay　his　blankets；　rumpled；　brown　with　dirt；　and　he　shivered　at　sight　of　them；　the　night　had　been　cold。　Before　he　fell　asleep；　he　had　flung　the　magazine　into　the　corner　and　now　the　wind　rustled　its　torn；　yellowed　pages　in　a　whisper　that　spoke　to　Gregg　of　the　ten…times　repeated　stories；　tales　of　adventure；　drifts　of　tobacco　smoke　in　gaming　halls；　the　chant　of　the　croupier　behind　the　wheel；　deep　voices　of　men；　laughter　of　pretty　girls；　tatoo　of　running　horses；　shouts　which　only　redeye　can　inspire。　He　sniffed　the　air；　odor　of　burned　bacon　and　coffee　permeated　the　cabin。　He　turned　to　the　right　and　saw　his　discarded　overalls　with　ragged　holes　at　the　knees；　he　turned　to　the　left　and　looked　into　the　face　of　the　rusted　alarm　clock。　Its　quick；　soft　ticking　sent　an　ache　of　weariness　through　him。

〃What's　wrong　with　me；〃　muttered　Gregg。　Even　that　voice　seemed　ghostly　loud　in　the　cabin；　and　he　shivered　again。　〃I　must　be　going　nutty。〃

As　if　to　escape　from　his　own　thoughts；　he　stepped　out　into　the　sun　again；　and　it　was　so　grateful　to　him　after　the　chill　shadow　in　the　lean…to；　that　he　looked　up；　smiling；　into　the　sky。　A　west　wind　urged　a　scattered　herd　of　clouds　over　the　peaks；　tumbled　masses　of　white　which　puffed　into　transparent　silver　at　the　edges；　and　behind；　long　wraiths　of　vapor　marked　the　path　down　which　they　had　traveled。　Such　an　old　cowhand　as　Vic　Gregg　could　not　fail　to　see　the　forms　of　cows　and　heavy…necked　bulls　and　running　calves　in　that　drift　of　clouds。　About　this　season　the　boys　would　be　watching　the　range　for　signs　of　screw　worms　in　the　cattle；　and　the　bog…riders　must　have　their　hands　full　dragging　out　cows　which　had　fled　into　the　mud　to　escape　the　heel　flies。　With　a　new　lonesomeness　he　drew　his　eyes　down　to　the　mountains。

Ordinarily；　strange　fancies　never　entered　the　hard　head　of　Gregg；　but　today　it　seemed　to　him　that　the　mountains　found　a　solemn　companionship　in　each　other。

Out　of　the　horizon；　where　the　snowy　forms　glimmered　in　the　blue；　they　marched　in　loose　order　down　to　the　valley　of　the　Asper；　where　some　of　them　halted　in　place；　huge　cliffs；　and　others　stumbled　out　into　foothills；　but　the　main　range　swerved　to　the　east　beside　the　valley；　eastward　out　of　his　vision；　though　he　knew　that　they　went　on　to　the　town　of　Alder。

Alder　was　Vic　Gregg's　Athens　and　Rome　in　one；　its　schoolhouse　his　Acropolis；　and　Captain　Lorrimer's　saloon　his　Forum。　Other　people　talked　of　larger　cities；　but　Alder　satisfied　the　imagination　of　Vic；　besides；　Grey　Molly　was　even　now　in　the　blacksmith's　pasture；　and　Betty　Neal　was　teaching　in　the　school。　Following　the　march　of　the　mountains　and　the　drift　of　the　clouds；　he　turned　towards　Alder。　The　piled　water　shook　the　dam；　topped　it；　burst　it　into　fragments；　and　rushed　into　freedom；　he　must　go　to　Alder；　have　a　drink；　shake　hands　with　a　friend；　kiss　Betty　Neal；　and　come　back　again。　Two　days　going；　two　days　coming；　three　days　for　the　frolic；　a　week　would　cover　it　all。　And　two　hours　later　Vic　Gregg　had　cached　his　heavier　equipment；　packed　his　necessaries　on　the　burro；　and　was　on　the　way。

By　noon　he　had　dropped　below　the　snowline　and　into　the　foothills；　and　with　every　step　his　heart　grew　lighter。　Behind　him　the　mountains　slid　up　into　the　heart　of　the　sky　with　cold；　white　winter　upon　them；　but　here　below　it　was　spring　indubitably。　There　was　hardly　enough　fresh　grass　to　temper　the　winter　brown　into　shining　bronze；　but　a　busy；　awakening　insect　life　thronged　through　the　roots。　Surer　sign　than　this；　the　flowers　were　coming。　A　slope　of　buttercups　flashed　suddenly　when　the　wind　struck　it　and　wild　morning　glory　spotted　a　stretch　of　daisies　with　purple　and　dainty　lavender。　To　be　sure；　the　blossoms　never　grew　thickly　enough　to