第 26 节
作者:理性的思索      更新:2024-09-11 20:30      字数:9322
  〃They wanted Brevet…Colonel Willie to get into a carriage and be drawn  by prominent citizens and some of the city aldermen to the armory; but  he stuck to his company and marched at the head of it up Sam Houston  Avenue。  The buildings on both sides was covered with flags and  audiences; and everybody hollered 'Robbins!' or 'Hello; Willie!' as we  marched up in files of fours。  I never saw a illustriouser…looking  human in my life than Willie was。  He had at least seven or eight  medals and diplomas and decorations on the breast of his khaki coat;  he was sunburnt the color of a saddle; and he certainly done himself  proud。
  〃They told us at the depot that the courthouse was to be illuminated  at half…past seven; and there would be speeches and chili…con…came at  the Palace Hotel。  Miss Delphine Thompson was to read an original poem  by James Whitcomb Ryan; and Constable Hooker had promised us a salute  of nine guns from Chicago that he had arrested that day。
  〃After we had disbanded in the armory; Willie says to me:
  〃'Want to walk out a piece with me?'
  〃'Why; yes;' says I; 'if it ain't so far that we can't hear the tumult  and the shouting die away。  I'm hungry myself;' says I; 'and I'm  pining for some home grub; but I'll go with you。'
  〃Willie steered me down some side streets till we came to a little  white cottage in a new lot with a twenty…by…thirty…foot lawn decorated  with brickbats and old barrel…staves。
  〃'Halt and give the countersign;' says I to Willie。  'Don't you know  this dugout?  It's the bird's…nest that Joe Granberry built before he  married Myra Allison。  What you going there for?'
  〃But Willie already had the gate open。  He walked up the brick walk to  the steps; and I went with him。  Myra was sitting in a rocking…chair  on the porch; sewing。  Her hair was smoothed back kind of hasty and  tied in a knot。  I never noticed till then that she had freckles。  Joe  was at one side of the porch; in his shirtsleeves; with no collar on;  and no signs of a shave; trying to scrape out a hole among the  brickbats and tin cans to plant a little fruit…tree in。  He looked up  but never said a word; and neither did Myra。
  〃Willie was sure dandy…looking in his uniform; with medals strung on  his breast and his new gold…handled sword。  You'd never have taken him  for the little white…headed snipe that the girls used to order about  and make fun of。  He just stood there for a minute; looking at Myra  with a peculiar little smile on his face; and then he says to her;  slow; and kind of holding on to his words with his teeth:
  〃'Oh; I don't know!  Maybe I could if I tried!'
  〃That was all that was said。  Willie raised his hat; and we walked  away。
  〃And; somehow; when he said that; I remembered; all of a sudden; the  night of that dance and Willie brushing his hair before the looking… glass; and Myra sticking her head in the door to guy him。
  〃When we got back to Sam Houston Avenue; Willie says:
  〃'Well; so long; Ben。  I'm going down home and get off my shoes and  take a rest。'
  〃'You?' says I。  'What's the matter with you?  Ain't the court…house  jammed with everybody in town waiting to honor the hero?  And two  brass…bands; and recitations and flags and jags and grub to follow  waiting for you?'
  〃Willie sighs。
  〃'All right; Ben;' says he。  'Darned if I didn't forget all about  that。'
  〃And that's why I say;〃 concluded Ben Granger; 〃that you can't tell  where ambition begins any more than you can where it is going to wind  up。〃
  THE HEAD…HUNTER
  When the war between Spain and George Dewey was over; I went to the  Philippine Islands。  There I remained as bushwhacker correspondent for  my paper until its managing editor notified me that an eight…hundred… word cablegram describing the grief of a pet carabao over the death of  an infant Moro was not considered by the office to be war news。  So I  resigned; and came home。
  On board the trading…vessel that brought me back I pondered much upon  the strange things I had sensed in the weird archipelago of the  yellow…brown people。  The manoeuvres and skirmishings of the petty war  interested me not: I was spellbound by the outlandish and unreadable  countenance of that race that had turned its expressionless gaze upon  us out of an unguessable past。
  Particularly during my stay in Mindanao had I been fascinated and  attracted by that delightfully original tribe of heathen known as the  head…hunters。  Those grim; flinty; relentless little men; never seen;  but chilling the warmest noonday by the subtle terror of their  concealed presence; paralleling the trail of their prey through  unmapped forests; across perilous mountain…tops; adown bottomless  chasms; into uninhabitable jungles; always near with the invisible  hand of death uplifted; betraying their pursuit only by such signs as  a beast or a bird or a gliding serpent might make…a twig crackling in  the awful; sweat…soaked night; a drench of dew showering from the  screening foliage of a giant tree; a whisper at even from the rushes  of a water…level…a hint of death for every mile and every hour…they  amused me greatly; those little fellows of one idea。
  When you think of it; their method is beautifully and almost  hilariously effective and simple。
  You have your hut in which you live and carry out the destiny that was  decreed for you。  Spiked to the jamb of your bamboo doorway is a  basket made of green withes; plaited。  From time to time; as vanity or  ennui or love or jealousy or ambition may move you; you creep forth  with your snickersnee and take up the silent trail。  Back from it you  come; triumphant; bearing the severed; gory head of your victim; which  you deposit with pardonable pride in the basket at the side of your  door。  It may be the head of your enemy; your friend; or a stranger;  according as competition; jealousy; or simple sportiveness has been  your incentive to labor。
  In any case; your reward is certain。  The village men; in passing;  stop to congratulate you; as your neighbor on weaker planes of life  stops to admire and praise the begonias in your front yard。  Your  particular brown maid lingers; with fluttering bosom; casting soft  tiger's eyes at the evidence of your love for her。  You chew betel…nut  and listen; content; to the intermittent soft drip from the ends of  the severed neck arteries。  And you show your teeth and grunt like a  water…buffalowhich is as near as you can come to laughing…at the  thought that the cold; acephalous body of your door ornament is being  spotted by wheeling vultures in the Mindanaoan wilds。
  Truly; the life of the merry head…hunter captivated me。  He had  reduced art and philosophy to a simple code。  To take your adversary's  head; to basket it at the portal of your castle; to see it lying  there; a dead thing; with its cunning and stratagems and power gone   Is there a better way to foil his plots; to refute his arguments; to  establish your superiority over his skill and wisdom?
  The ship that brought me home was captained by an erratic Swede; who  changed his course and deposited me; with genuine compassion; in a  small town on the Pacific coast of one of the Central American  republics; a few hundred miles south of the port to which he had  engaged to convey me。  But I was wearied of movement and exotic  fancies; so I leaped contentedly upon the firm sands of the village of  Mojada; telling myself I should be sure to find there the rest that I  craved。  After all; far better to linger there (I thought); lulled by  the sedative plash of the waves and the rustling of palm…fronds; than  to sit upon the horsehair sofa of my parental home in the East; and  there; cast down by currant wine and cake; and scourged by fatuous  relatives; drivel into the ears of gaping neighbors sad stories of the  death of colonial governors。
  When I first saw Chloe Greene she was standing; all in white; in the  doorway of her father's tile…roofed 'dobe house。  She was polishing a  silver cup with a cloth; and she looked like a pearl laid against  black velvet。  She turned on me a flatteringly protracted but a  wiltingly disapproving gaze; and then went inside; humming a light  song to indicate the value she placed upon my existence。
  Small wonder: for Dr。  Stamford (the most disreputable professional  man between Juneau and Valparaiso) and I were zigzagging along the  turfy street; tunelessly singing the words of Auld Lang Syne to the  air of Muzzer's Little Coal…Black Coon。  We had come from the ice  factory; which was Mojada's palace of wickedness; where we had been  playing billiards and opening black bottles; white with frost; that we  dragged with strings out of old Sandoval's ice…cold vats。
  I turned in sudden rage to Dr。  Stamford; as sober as the verger of a  cathedral。  In a moment I had become aware that we were swine cast  before a pearl。
  〃You beast;〃 I said; 〃this is half your doing。  And the other half is  the fault of this cursed country。  I'd better have gone back to  Sleepy…town and died in a wild orgy of currant wine and buns than to  have had this happen。〃
  Stamford filled the empty street with his roaring laughter。
  〃You too!〃 he cried。  〃And all as quick as the popping of a cork。   Well; she does se