【英文读物】Aaron in the Wildwoods.docx

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1、【英文读物】Aaron in the WildwoodsOnce upon a time there lived on a large plantation in Middle Georgia a boy who was known as Little Crotchet. It was a very queer name, to be sure, but it seemed to fit the lad to a T. When he was a wee bit of a chap he fell seriously ill, and when, many weeks afterwards,

2、the doctors said the worst was over, it was found that he had lost the use of his legs, and that he would never be able to run about and play as other children do. When he was told about this he laughed, and said he had known all along that he would never be able to run about on his feet again; but

3、he had plans of his own, and he told his father that he wanted a pair of crutches made. But you cant use them, my son, said his father. Anyhow, I can try, insisted the lad. The doctors were told of his desire, and these wise men put their heads together. It is a crotchet, they declared, but it will

4、be no harm for him to try. It is a little crotchet, said his mother, and he shall have the crutches. Thus it came about that the lad got both his name and his crutches, for his father insisted on calling him Little Crotchet after that, and he also insisted on sending all the way to Philadelphia for

5、the crutches. They seemed to be a long time in coming, for in those days they had to be brought to Charleston in a sailing vessel, and then sent by way of Augusta in a stage-coach; but when they came they were very welcome, for Little Crotchet had been inquiring for them every day in the week, and S

6、unday too. And yet when they came, strange to say, he seemed to have lost his interest in them. His mother brought them in joyously, but there was not even a glad smile on the lads face. He looked at them gravely, weighed them in his hands, laid them across the foot of the bed, and then turned his h

7、ead on his pillow, as if he wanted to go 3 to sleep. His mother was surprised, and not a little hurt, as mothers will be when they do not understand their children; but she respected his wishes, darkened the room, kissed her boy, and closed the door gently. When everything was still, Little Crotchet

8、 sat up in bed, seized his crutches, and proceeded to try them. He did this every day for a week, and at the end of that time surprised everybody in the house, and on the place as well, by marching out on his crutches, and going from room to room without so much as touching his feet to the floor. It

9、 seemed to be a most wonderful feat to perform, and so it was; but Providence, in depriving the lad of the use of his legs, had correspondingly strengthened the muscles of his chest and arms, so that within a month he could use his crutches almost as nimbly and quite as safely as other boys use thei

10、r feet. He could go upstairs and downstairs and walk about the place with as much ease, apparently, as those not afflicted, and it was not strange that the negroes regarded the performance with wonder akin to awe, declaring among themselves that their young master was upheld and supported by de sper

11、its. 4 And indeed it was a queer sight to see the frail lad going boldly about on crutches, his feet not touching the ground. The sight seemed to make the pet name of Little Crotchet more appropriate than ever. So his name stuck to him, even after he got his Gray Pony, and became a familiar figure i

12、n town and in country, as he went galloping about, his crutches strapped to the saddle, and dangling as gayly as the sword of some fine general. Thus it came to pass that no one was surprised when Little Crotchet went cantering along, his Gray Pony snorting fiercely, and seeming never to tire. Early

13、 or late, whenever the neighbors heard the short, sharp snort of the Gray Pony and the rattling of the crutches, they would turn to one another and say, Little Crotchet! and that would be explanation enough. There seemed to be some sort of understanding between him and his Gray Pony. Anybody could r

14、ide the Gray Pony in the pasture or in the grove around the house, but when it came to going out by the big gate, that was another matter. He could neither be led nor driven beyond that boundary by any one except Little Crotchet. It was the same when it came5 to crossing water. The Gray Pony would n

15、ot cross over the smallest running brook for any one but Little Crotchet; but with the lad on his back he would plunge into the deepest stream, and, if need be, swim across it. All this deepened and confirmed in the minds of the negroes the idea that Little Crotchet was upheld and protected by de sp

16、erits. They had heard him talking to the Gray Pony, and they had heard the Gray Pony whinny in reply. They had seen the Gray Pony with their little master on his back go gladly out at the big gate and rush with a snort through the plantation creek,a bold and at times a dangerous stream. Seeing these

17、 things, and knowing the temper of the pony, they had no trouble in coming to the conclusion that something supernatural was behind it all. II. Thus it happened that Little Crotchet and his Gray Pony were pretty well known through all the country-side, for it seemed that he was never tired of riding

18、, and that the pony was never tired of going. What was the riders errand? Nobody knew. Why should he go skimming along 6 the red road at day dawn? And why should he come whirling back at dusk,a red cloud of dust rising beneath the Gray Ponys feet? Nobody could tell. This was almost as much of a puzz

19、le to some of the whites as it was to the negroes; but this mystery, if it could be called such, was soon eclipsed by a phenomenon that worried some of the wisest dwellers in that region. This phenomenon, apparently very simple, began to manifest itself in early fall, and continued all through that

20、season and during the winter and on through the spring, until warm weather set in. It was in the shape of a thin column of blue smoke that could be seen on any clear morning or late afternoon rising from the centre of Spiveys Canebrake. This place was called a canebrake because a thick, almost impen

21、etrable, growth of canes fringed the edge of a mile-wide basin lying between the bluffs of the Oconee River and the uplands beyond. Instead of being a canebrake it was a vast swamp, the site of cool but apparently stagnant ponds and of treacherous quagmires, in which cows, and even horses, had been

22、known to disappear and perish. The cowitch7 grew there, and the yellow plumes of the poison-oak vine glittered like small torches. There, too, the thunder-wood tree exuded its poisonous milk, and long serpent-like vines wound themselves around and through the trees, and helped to shut out the sunlig

23、ht. It was a swamp, and a very dismal one. The night birds gathered there to sleep during the day, and all sorts of creatures that shunned the sunlight or hated man found a refuge there. If the negroes had made paths through its recesses to enable them to avoid the patrol, nobody knew it but themsel

24、ves. Why, then, should a thin but steady stream of blue smoke be constantly rising upwards from the centre of Spiveys Canebrake? It was a mystery to those who first discovered it, and it soon grew to be a neighborhood mystery. During the summer the smoke could not be seen, but in the fall and winter

25、 its small thin volume went curling upward continually. Little Crotchet often watched it from the brow of Turners Hill, the highest part of the uplands. Early in the morning or late in the afternoon the vapor would rise from the Oconee; but the vapor was white and heavy, and was blown about by the w

26、ind, while8 the smoke in the swamp was blue and thin, and rose straight in the air above the tops of the trees in spite of the wayward winds. Once when Little Crotchet was sitting on his pony watching the blue smoke rise from the swamp he saw two of the neighbor farmers coming along the highway. The

27、y stopped and shook hands with the lad, and then turned to watch the thin stream of blue smoke. The morning was clear and still, and the smoke rose straight in the air, until it seemed to mingle with the upper blue. The two farmers were father and son,Jonathan Gadsby and his son Ben. They were both

28、very well acquainted with Little Crotchet,as, indeed, everybody in the county was,and he was so bright and queer that they stood somewhat in awe of him. I reckin if I had a pony that wasnt afeard of nothin Id go right straight and find out where that fire is, and what it is, remarked Ben Gadsby. Thi

29、s stirred his fathers ire apparently. Why, Benjamin! Why, what on the face of the earth do you mean? Ride into that swamp! Why, you must have lost what little sense you had when you was born! I remember, jest as well as if it was day before yesterday, when Uncle Jimmy Cosbys red steer got in that sw

30、amp, and we couldnt git him out. Git him out, did I say? We couldnt even git nigh him. We could hear him beller, but we never got where we could see har nor hide of him. If I was thirty year younger Id take my foot in my hand and wade in there and see where the smoke comes from.pag8iloIT WAS A SWAMP

31、 9 Little Crotchet laughed. If I had two good legs, said he, Id soon see what the trouble is. This awoke Ben Gadsbys ambition. I believe Ill go in there and see where the fire is. Fire! exclaimed old Mr. Gadsby, with some irritation. Who said anything about fire? What living and moving creetur could

32、 build a fire in that thicket? Id like mighty well to lay my eyes on him. Well, said Ben Gadsby, where you see smoke theres obliged to be fire. Ive heard you say that yourself. Me? exclaimed Mr. Jonathan Gadsby, with a show of alarm in the midst of his indignation.10 Did I say that? Well, it was whe

33、n I wasnt so much as thinking that my two eyes were my own. What about foxfire? Suppose that some quagmire or other in that there swamp has gone and got up a ruction on its own hook? Smoke without fire? Why, Ive seed it many a time. And maybe that smoke comes from an eruption in the ground. What the

34、n? Whos going to know where the fire is? Little Crotchet laughed, but Ben Gadsby put on a very bold front. Well, said he, I can find bee-trees, and Ill find where that fire is. Well, sir, remarked Mr. Jonathan Gadsby, looking at his son with an air of pride, find out where the smoke comes from, and

35、well not expect you to see the fire. I wish I could go with you, said Little Crotchet. I dont need any company, replied Ben Gadsby. Ive done made up my mind, and I a-going to show the folks around here that where theres so much smoke theres obliged to be some fire. The young man, knowing that he had

36、 some warm work before him, pulled off his coat, and11 tied the sleeves over his shoulder, sash fashion. Then he waved his hand to his father and to Little Crotchet, and went rapidly down the hill. He had undertaken the adventure in a spirit of bravado. He knew that a number of the neighbors had tri

37、ed to solve the mystery of the smoke in the swamp and had failed. He thought, too, that he would fail; and yet he was urged on by the belief that if he should happen to succeed, all the boys and all the girls in the neighborhood would regard him as a wonderful young man. He had the same ambition tha

38、t animated the knight of old, but on a smaller scale. III. Now it chanced that Little Crotchet himself was on his way to the smoke in the swamp. He had been watching it, and wondering whether he should go to it by the path he knew, or whether he should go by the road that Aaron, the runaway, had tol

39、d him of. Ben Gadsby interfered with his plans somewhat; for quite by accident, young Gadsby as he went down the hill struck into the path that Little Crotchet knew. There was a chance to gallop along the brow of the hill,12 turn to the left, plunge through a shallow lagoon, and strike into the path

40、 ahead of Gadsby, and this chance Little Crotchet took. He waved his hand to Mr. Jonathan Gadsby, gave the Gray Pony the rein, and went galloping through the underbrush, his crutches rattling, and the rings of the bridle-bit jingling. To Mr. Jonathan Gadsby it seemed that the lad was riding reckless

41、ly, and he groaned and shook his head as he turned and went on his way. But Little Crotchet rode on. Turning sharply to the left as soon as he got out of sight, he went plunging through the lagoon, and was soon going along the blind path a quarter of a mile ahead of Ben Gadsby. This is why young Gad

42、sby was so much disturbed that he lost his way. He was bold enough when he started out, but by the time he had descended the hill and struck into what he thought was a cattle-path his courage began to fail him. The tall canes seemed to bend above him in a threatening manner. The silence oppressed hi

43、m. Everything was so still that the echo of his own movements as he brushed along the narrow path seemed to develop into ominous whispers, as if all the goblins he had ever heard13 of had congregated in front of him to bar his way. The silence, with its strange echoes, was bad enough, but when he he

44、ard the snorting of Little Crotchets Gray Pony as it plunged through the lagoon, the rattle of the crutches and the jingling of the bridle-bit, he fell into a panic. What great beast could it be that went helter-skelter through this dark and silent swamp, swimming through the water and tearing throu

45、gh the quagmires? And yet, when Ben Gadsby would have turned back, the rank undergrowth and the trailing vines had quite obscured the track. The fear that impelled him to retrace his steps was equally powerful in impelling him to go forward. And this seemed the easiest plan. He felt that it would be

46、 just as safe to go on, having once made the venture, as to turn back. He had a presentiment that he would never find his way out anyhow, and the panic he was in nerved him to the point of desperation. So on he went, not always trying to follow the path, but plunging forward aimlessly. In half an ho

47、ur he was calmer, and pretty soon he found the ground firm under his feet. His instincts as 14 a bee-hunter came back to him. He had started in from the east side, and he paused to take his bearings. But it was hard to see the sun, and in the recesses of the swamp the mosses grew on all sides of the

48、 trees. And yet there was a difference, which Ben Gadsby did not fail to discover and take account of. They grew thicker and larger on the north side, and remembering this, he went forward with more confidence. He found that the middle of the swamp was comparatively dry. Huge poplar-trees stood rang

49、ed about, the largest he had ever seen. In the midst of a group of trees he found one that was hollow, and in this hollow he found the smouldering embers of a fire. But for the strange silence that surrounded him he would have given a whoop of triumph; but he restrained himself. Bee-hunter that he was, he took his coat from his shou