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arizona nights-第21章

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diseases。

   

They ran this ferry monopoly by means of boats made of tules;

charged a scand'lous low price; and everything was happy and

lovely。  I ran on a little bar and panned out some dust; so I

camped a while; washing gold; getting friendly with the Yumas;

and talking horse and other things with the immigrants。

    

About a month of this; and the Texas boys drifted in。 Seems they

sort of overdid the scalp matter; and got found out。  When they

saw me; they stopped and went into camp。  They'd travelled a heap

of desert; and were getting sick of it。  For a while they tried

gold washing; but I had the only pocketand that was about

skinned。  One evening a fellow named Walleye announced that he

had been doing some figuring; and wanted to make a speech。  We

told him to fire ahead。

    

〃Now look here;〃 said he; 〃what's the use of going to California? 

Why not stay here?〃

  

〃What in hell would we do here?〃 someone asked。  〃Collect Gila

monsters for their good looks?〃

    

〃Don't get gay;〃 said Walleye。  〃What's the matter with going

into business?  Here's a heap of people going through; and more

coming every day。  This ferry business could be made to pay big。 

Them Injins charges two bits a head。  That's a crime for the only

way across。  And how much do you suppose whisky'd be worth to

drink after that desert?  And a man's so sick of himself by the

time he gets this far that he'd play chuck…a…luck; let alone faro

or monte。〃

  

That kind of talk hit them where they lived; and Yuma was founded

right then and there。  They hadn't any whisky yet; but cards were

plenty; and the ferry monopoly was too easy。  Walleye served

notice on the Injins that a dollar a head went; and we all set to

building a tule raft like the others。  Then the wild bunch got

uneasy; so they walked upstream one morning and stole the Injins'

boats。  The Injins came after them innocent as babies; thinking

the raft had gone adrift。  When they got into camp our men opened

up and killed four of them as a kind of hint。  After that the

ferry company didn't have any trouble。  The Yumas moved up river

a ways; where they've lived ever since。  They got the corpses and

buried them。  That is; they dug a trench for each one and laid

poles across it; with a funeral pyre on the poles。  Then they put

the body on top; and the women of the family cut their hair off

and threw it on。  After that they set fire to the outfit; and;

when the poles bad burned through; the whole business fell into

the trench of its own accord。  It was the neatest; automatic;

self…cocking; double…action sort of a funeral I ever saw。  There

wasn't any ceremonyonly crying。  



The ferry business flourished at prices which were sometimes hard

to collect。 But it was a case of pay or go back; and it was a

tur'ble long ways back。  We got us timbers and made a scow; built

a baile and saloon and houses out of adobe; and called her

Yuma; after the Injins that had really started her。  We got our

supplies through the Gulf of California; where sailing boats

worked up the river。  People began to come in for one reason or

another; and first thing we knew we had a store and all sorts of

trimmings。  In fact we was a real live town。







CHAPTER ELEVEN

THE SAILOR WITH ONE HAND



At this moment the heavy beat of the storm on the roof ceased

with miraculous suddenness; leaving the outside world empty of

sound save for the DRIP; DRIP; DRIP of eaves。  Nobody ventured

to fill in the pause that followed the stranger's last words; so

in a moment he continued his narrative。





We had every sort of people with us off and on; and; as I was

lookout at a popular game; I saw them all。  One evening I was on

my way home about two o'clock of a moonlit night; when on the

edge of the shadow I stumbled over a body lying part across the

footway。  At the same instant I heard the rip of steel through

cloth and felt a sharp stab in my left leg。  For a minute I

thought some drunk had used his knife on me; and I mighty near

derringered him as he lay。  But somehow I didn't; and looking

closer; I saw the man was unconscious。  Then I scouted to see

what had cut me; and found that the fellow had lost a hand。  In

place of it he wore a sharp steel hook。  This I had tangled up

with and gotten well pricked。

  

I dragged him out into the light。  He was a slim…built young

fellow; with straight black hair; long and lank and oily; a lean

face; and big hooked nose。  He had on only a thin shirt; a pair

of rough wool pants; and the rawhide home…made zapatos the

Mexicans wore then instead of boots。  Across his forehead ran a

long gash; cutting his left eyebrow square in two。

  

There was no doubt of his being alive; for he was breathing hard;

like a man does when he gets hit over the head。  It didn't sound

good。  When a man breathes that way he's mostly all gone。



Well; it was really none of my business; as you might say。  Men

got batted over the head often enough in those days。  But for

some reason I picked him up and carried him to my 'dobe shack;

and laid him out; and washed his cut with sour wine。  That

brought him to。  Sour wine is fine to put a wound in shape to

heal; but it's no soothing syrup。  He sat up as though he'd been

touched with a hot poker; stared around wild…eyed; and cut loose

with that song you were singing。  Only it wasn't that verse。

It was another one further along; that went like this:



  Their coffin was their ship; and their grave it was the sea;

    Blow high; blow low; what care we;

  And the quarter that we gave them was to sink them in the sea;

    Down on the coast of the High Barbaree。



It fair made my hair rise to hear him; with the big; still;

solemn desert outside; and the quiet moonlight; and the shadows;

and him sitting up straight and gaunt; his eyes blazing each side

his big eagle nose; and his snaky hair hanging over the raw cut

across his head。  However; I made out to get him bandaged up and

in shape; and pretty soon he sort of went to sleep。

  

Well; he was clean out of his head for nigh two weeks。  Most of

the time he lay flat on his back staring at the pole roof; his

eyes burning and looking like they saw each one something a

different distance off; the way crazy eyes do。  That was when he

was best。  Then again he'd sing that Barbaree song until I'd go

out and look at the old Colorado flowing by just to be sure I

hadn't died and gone below。  Or else he'd just talk。  That was

the worst performance of all。  It was like listening to one end

of a telephone; though we didn't know what telephones were in

those days。  He began when be was a kid; and he gave his side of

conversations; pausing for replies。  I could mighty near furnish

the replies sometimes。  It was queer lingoabout ships and

ships' officers and gales and calms and fights and pearls and

whales and islands and birds and skies。  But it was all little

stuff。  I used to listen by the hour; but I never made out

anything really important as to who the man was; or where he'd

come from; or what he'd done。

   

At the end of the second week I came in at noon as per usual to

fix him up with grub。  I didn't pay any attention to him; for he

was quiet。  As I was bending over the fire he spoke。  Usually I

didn't bother with his talk; for it didn't mean anything; but

something in his voice made me turn。  He was lying on his side;

those black eyes of his blazing at me; but now both of them saw

the same distance。

   

〃Where are my clothes?〃 he asked; very intense。



〃You ain't in any shape to want clothes;〃 said I。  〃Lie still。〃

   

I hadn't any more than got the words out of my mouth before he

was atop me。  His method was a winner。  He had me by the throat

with his hand; and I felt the point of the hook pricking the back

of my neck。 One little squeezeTalk about your deadly weapons!

   

But he'd been too sick and too long abed。  He turned dizzy and

keeled over; and I dumped him back on the bunk。  Then I put my

six…shooter on。

   

In a minute or so he came to。

   

〃Now you're a nice; sweet proposition;〃 said I; as soon as I was

sure he could understand me。  〃Here I pick you up on the street

and save your worthless carcass; and the first chance you get you

try to crawl my hump。 

Explain。〃

   

〃Where's my clothes?〃 he demanded again; very fierce。

   

〃For heaven's sake;〃 I yelled at him; 〃what's the matter with you

and your old clothes?  There ain't enough of them to dust a

fiddle with anyway。  What do you think I'd want with them?

They're safe enough。〃'



〃Let me have them;〃 he begged。



〃Now; look here;〃 said I; 〃you can't get up to…day。  You ain't

fit。〃



〃I know;〃 he pleaded; 〃but let me see them。〃



Just to satisfy him I passed over his old duds。



〃I've been robbed;〃 he cried。



〃Well;〃 said I; 〃what did you expect would happen to you lying

around Yuma
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