the night-born-第20部分

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shady　hiding　places　among　the　trees。



Man　and　horse　were　littered　with　leaves　and　dusted　with　yellow

pollen；　for　the　open　was　ventured　no　more　than　was　compulsory。

They　kept　to　the　brush　and　trees；　and　invariably　the　man　halted

and　peered　out　before　crossing　a　dry　glade　or　naked　stretch　of

upland　pasturage。　He　worked　always　to　the　north；　though　his　way

was　devious；　and　it　was　from　the　north　that　he　seemed　most　to

apprehend　that　for　which　he　was　looking。　He　was　no　coward；　but

his　courage　was　only　that　of　the　average　civilized　man；　and　he

was　looking　to　live；　not　die。



Up　a　small　hillside　he　followed　a　cowpath　through　such　dense

scrub　that　he　was　forced　to　dismount　and　lead　his　horse。　But

when　the　path　swung　around　to　the　west；　he　abandoned　it　and

headed　to　the　north　again　along　the　oak…covered　top　of　the

ridge。



The　ridge　ended　in　a　steep　descent…so　steep　that　he　zigzagged

back　and　forth　across　the　face　of　the　slope；　sliding　and

stumbling　among　the　dead　leaves　and　matted　vines　and　keeping　a

watchful　eye　on　the　horse　above　that　threatened　to　fall　down

upon　him。　The　sweat　ran　from　him；　and　the　pollen…dust；　settling

pungently　in　mouth　and　nostrils；　increased　his　thirst。　Try　as

he　would；　nevertheless　the　descent　was　noisy；　and　frequently　he

stopped；　panting　in　the　dry　heat　an　d　listening　for　any　warning

from　beneath。



At　the　bottom　he　came　out　on　a　flat；　so　densely　forested　that

he　could　not　make　out　its　extent。　Here　the　character　of　the

woods　changed；　and　he　was　able　to　remount。　Instead　of　the

twisted　hillside　oaks；　tall　straight　trees；　big…trunked　and

prosperous；　rose　from　the　damp　fat　soil。　Only　here　and　there

were　thickets；　easily　avoided；　while　he　encountered　winding；

park…like　glades　where　the　cattle　had　pastured　in　the　days

before　war　had　run　them　off。



His　progress　was　more　rapid　now；　as　he　came　down　into　the

valley；　and　at　the　end　of　half　an　hour　he　halted　at　an　ancient

rail　fence　on　the　edge　of　a　clearing。　He　did　not　like　the

openness　of　it；　yet　his　path　lay　across　to　the　fringe　of　trees

that　marked　the　banks　of　the　stream。　It　was　a　mere　quarter　of　a

mile　across　that　open；　but　the　thought　of　venturing　out　in　it

was　repugnant。　A　rifle；　a　score　of　them；　a　thousand；　might　lurk

in　that　fringe　by　the　stream。



Twice　he　essayed　to　start；　and　twice　he　paused。　He　was　appalled

by　his　own　loneliness。　The　pulse　of　war　that　beat　from　the　West

suggested　the　companionship　of　battling　thousands；　here　was

naught　but　silence；　and　himself；　and　possible　death…dealing

bullets　from　a　myriad　ambushes。　And　yet　his　task　was　to　find

what　he　feared　to　find。　He　must　on；　and　on；　till　somewhere；

some　time；　he　encountered　another　man；　or　other　men；　from　the

other　side；　scouting；　as　he　was　scouting；　to　make　report；　as　he

must　make　report；　of　having　come　in　touch。



Changing　his　mind；　he　skirted　inside　the　woods　for　a　distance；

and　again　peeped　forth。　This　time；　in　the　middle　of　the

clearing；　he　saw　a　small　farmhouse。　There　were　no　signs　of

life。　No　smoke　curled　from　the　chimney；　not　a　barnyard　fowl

clucked　and　strutted。　The　kitchen　door　stood　open；　and　he　gazed

so　long　and　hard　into　the　black　aperture　that　it　seemed　almost

that　a　farmer's　wife　must　emerge　at　any　moment。



He　licked　the　pollen　and　dust　from　his　dry　lips；　stiffened

himself；　mind　and　body；　and　rode　out　into　the　blazing　sunshine。

Nothing　stirred。　He　went　on　past　the　house；　and　approached　the

wall　of　trees　and　bushes　by　the　river's　bank。　One　thought

persisted　maddeningly。　It　was　of　the　crash　into　his　body　of　a

high…velocity　bullet。　It　made　him　feel　very　fragile　and

defenseless；　and　he　crouched　lower　in　the　saddle。



Tethering　his　horse　in　the　edge　of　the　wood；　he　continued　a

hundred　yards　on　foot　till　he　came　to　the　stream。　Twenty　feet

wide　it　was；　without　perceptible　current；　cool　and　inviting；

and　he　was　very　thirsty。　But　he　waited　inside　his　screen　of

leafage；　his　eyes　fixed　on　the　screen　on　the　opposite　side。　To

make　the　wait　endurable；　he　sat　down；　his　carbine　resting　on

his　knees。　The　minutes　passed；　and　slowly　his　tenseness

relaxed。　At　last　he　decided　there　was　no　danger；　but　just　as　he

prepared　to　part　the　bushes　and　bend　down　to　the　water；　a

movement　among　the　opposite　bushes　caught　his　eye。



It　might　be　a　bird。　But　he　waited。　Again　there　was　an　agitation

of　the　bushes；　and　then；　so　suddenly　that　it　almost　startled　a

cry　from　him；　the　bushes　parted　and　a　face　peered　out。　It　was　a

face　covered　with　several　weeks'　growth　of　ginger…colored

beard。　The　eyes　were　blue　and　wide　apart；　with

laughter…wrinkles　in　the　comers　that　showed　despite　the　tired

and　anxious　expression　of　the　whole　face。



All　this　he　could　see　with　microscopic　clearness；　for　the

distance　was　no　more　than　twenty　feet。　And　all　this　he　saw　in

such　brief　time；　that　he　saw　it　as　he　lifted　his　carbine　to　his

shoulder。　He　glanced　along　the　sights；　and　knew　that　he　was

gazing　upon　a　man　who　was　as　good　as　dead。　It　was　impossible　to

miss　at　such　point　blank　range。



But　he　did　not　shoot。　Slowly　he　lowered　the　carbine　and

watched。　A　hand；　clutching　a　water…bottle；　became　visible　and

the　ginger　beard　bent　downward　to　fill　the　bottle。　He　could

hear　the　gurgle　of　the　water。　Then　arm　and　bottle　and　ginger

beard　disappeared　behind　the　closing　bushes。　A　long　time　he

waited；　when；　with　thirst　unslaked；　he　crept　back　to　his　horse；

rode　slowly　across　the　sun…washed　clearing；　and　passed　into　the

shelter　of　the　woods　beyond。



II　



Another　day；　hot　and　breathless。　A　deserted　farmhouse；　large；

with　many　outbuildings　and　an　orchard；　standing　in　a　clearing。

From　the　Woods；　on　a　roan　horse；　carbine　across　pommel；　rode

the　young　man　with　the　quick　black　eyes。　He　breathed　with

relief　as　he　gained　the　house。　That　a　fight　had　taken　place

here　earlier　in　the　season　was　evident。　Clips　and　empty

cartridges；　tarnished　with　verdigris；　lay　on　the　ground；　which；

while　wet；　had　been　torn　up　by　the　hoofs　of　horses。　Hard　by　the

kitchen　garden　were　graves；　tagged　and　numbered。　From　the　oak

tree　by　the　kitchen　door；　in　tattered；　weatherbeaten　garments；

hung　the　bodies　of　two　men。　The　faces；　shriveled　and　defaced；

bore　no　likeness　to　the　faces　of　men。　The　roan　horse　snorted

beneath　them；　and　the　rider　caressed　and　soothed　it　and　tied　it

farther　away。



Entering　the　house；　he　found　the　interior　a　wreck。　He　trod　on

empty　cartridges　as　he　walked　from　room　to　room　to　reconnoiter

from　the　windows。　Men　had　camped　and　slept　everywhere；　and　on

the　floor　of　one　room　he　came　upon　stains　unmistakable　where

the　wounded　had　been　laid　down。



Again　outside；　he　led　the　horse　around　behind　the　barn　and

invaded　the　orchard。　A　dozen　trees　were　burdened　with　ripe

apples。　He　filled　his　pockets；　eating　while　he　picked。　Then　a

thought　came　to　him；　and　he　glanced　at　the　sun；　calculating　the

time　of　his　return　to　camp。　He　pulled　off　his　shirt；　tying　the

sleeves　and　making　a　bag。　This　he　proceeded　to　fill　with

apples。



As　he　was　about　to　mount　his　horse；　the　animal　suddenly　pricked

up　its　ears。　The　man；　too；　listened；　and　heard；　faintly；　the

thud　of　hoofs　on　soft　earth。　He　crept　to　the　corner　of　the　barn

and　peered　out。　A　dozen　mounted　men；　strung　out　loosely；

approaching　from　the　opposite　side　of　the　clearing；　were　only　a

matter　of　a　hundred　yards　or　so　away。　They　rode　on　to　the

house。　Some　dismounted；　while　others　remained　in　the　saddle　as

an　earnest　that　their　stay　would　be　short。　They　seemed　to　be

holding　a　council；　for　he　could　hear　them　talking　excitedly　in

the　detested　tongue　of　the　alien　invader。　The　time　passed；　but

they　seemed　unable　to　reach　a　decision。　He　put　the　carbine　away

in　its　boot；　mounted；　and　waited　impatiently；　balancing　the

shirt　of　apples　on　the　pommel。



He　heard　footsteps　approaching；　and　drove　his　spurs　so　fiercely

into　the　roan　as　to　force　a　surprised　groan　from　the　animal　as

it　leaped　forward。　At　the　comer　of　the　barn　he　saw　the

intruder；　a　mere　boy　of　nineteen　or　twenty　for　all　of　his

uniform　jump　back　to　escape　being　run　down。　At　the　same　moment

the　roan　swerved　and　its　rider　caught　a　glimpse　of　the　aroused

men　by　the　house。　Some　were　springing　from　their　horses；　and　he

could　see　the　rifles　going　to　their　shoulders。　He　passed　the

kitchen　door　and　the　dried　corpses　swinging　in　the　shade；

compelling　his　foes　to　run　around　the　front　of　the　house。　A

rifle　cracked；　and　a　second；　but　he　was　going　fast；　leaning

forward；　low　in　the　saddle；　one　hand　clutching　the　shirt　of

apples；　the　other　guiding　the　horse。



The　top　bar　of　the　fence　was　four　feet　high；　but　he　knew　his

roan　and　leaped　it　at　full　career　to　the　accompaniment　of

several　scattered　shots。　Eight　hundred　yards　straight　away　were

the　woods；　and　the　roan　was　covering　the　distance　with　mighty

strides。　Every　man　was　now　firing。　pumping　their　guns　so

rapidly　that　he　no　longer　heard　individual　shots。　A　bullet　went

through　his　hat；　but　he　was　unaware；　though　he　did　know　when

another　tore　through　the　apples　on　the　pommel。　And　he　winced

and　ducked　even　lower　when　a　third　bullet；　fired　low；　struck　a

stone　between　his　horse's　legs　and　ricochetted　off　through　the

air；　buzzing　and　humming　like　some　incredible　insect。



The　shots　died　down　as　the　magazines　were　emptied；　until；

quickly；　there　was　no　more　shooting。　The　young　man　was　elated。

Through　that　astonishing　fusillade　he　had　come　unscathed。　He

glanced　back。　Yes；　they　had　emptied　their　magazines。　He　could

see　several　reloading。　Others　were　running　back　behind　the

house　for　their　horses。　As　he　looked；　two　already　mounted；　came

back　into　view　around　the　comer；　riding　hard。　And　at　the　same

moment；　he　saw　the　man　with　the　unmistakable　ginger　beard　kneel

down　on　the　ground；　level　his　gun；　and　coolly　take　his　time　for

the　long　shot。



The　young　man　threw　his　spurs　into　the　horse；　crouched　very

low；　and　swerved　in　his　flight　in　order