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以下歐美電影榜英文介紹
Indian, take it away, after drinking here?"
The cup was nicked and battered, bright on the sides, moss-green on
the bottom. When Hare drank from it he understood.
That evening there was rude merriment around the campfire. Snap
Naab buzzed on his jews'-harp and sang. He stirred some of the younger
braves to dancing, and they stamped and swung their arms, singing,
"hoya-heeya- howya," as they moved in and out of the firelight.
Several of the braves showed great interest in Snap's jews'-harp and
repeatedly asked him for it. Finally the Mormon grudgingly lent it to a
curious Indian, who in trying to play it went through such awkward motions and made such queer sounds that his companions set upon him
and fought for possession of the instrument. Then Snap, becoming solicitous for its welfare, jumped into the fray. They tussled for it amid the
clamor of a delighted circle. Snap, passing from jest to earnest, grew so
strenuous in his efforts to regain the harp that he tossed the Navajos
about like shuttle-cocks. He got the harp and, concealing it, sought to
break away. But the braves laid hold upon him, threw him to the
ground, and calmly sat astride him while they went through his pockets.
August Naab roared his merriment and Hare laughed till he cried. The
incident was as surprising to him as it was amusing. These serious Mormons and silent Navajos were capable of mirth.
Hare would have stayed up as late as any of them, but August's saying
to him, "Get to bed: to-morrow will be bad!" sent him off to his blankets,
where he was soon fast asleep. Morning found him well, hungry, eager
to know what the day would bring.
"Wait," said August, soberly.
They rode out of the gray pocket in the ridge and began to climb. Hare
had not noticed the rise till they were started, and then, as the horses
climbed steadily he grew impatient at the monotonous ascent. There was
nothing to see; frequently it seemed that they were soon to reach the
summit, but still it rose above them. Hare went back to his comfortable
place on the sacks.
"Now, Jack," said August.
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Hare gasped. He saw a red world. His eyes seemed bathed in blood.
Red scaly ground, bare of vegetation, sloped down, down, far down to a
vast irregular rent in the earth, which zigzagged through the plain beneath. To the right it bent its crooked way under the brow of a blacktimbered plateau; to the left it straightened its angles to find a V-shaped
vent in the wall, now uplifted to a mountain range. Beyond this earthriven line lay something vast and illimitable, a far-reaching vision of
white wastes, of purple plains, of low mesas lost in distance. It was the
shimmering dust-veiled desert.
"Here we come to the real thing," explained Naab. "This is Windy
Slope; that black line is the Grand Canyon of Arizona; on the other side
is the Painted Desert where the Navajos live; Coconina Mountain shows
his flat head there to the right, and the wall on our left rises to the Vermillion Cliffs. Now, look while you can, for presently you'll not be able
to see."
"Why?"
"Wind, sand, dust, gravel, pebbles—watch out for your eyes!"
Naab had not ceased speaking when Hare saw that the train of Indians
trailing down the slope was enveloped in red clouds. Then the white
wagons disappeared. Soon he was struck in the back by a gust which justified Naab's warning. It swept by; the air grew clear again; once more he
could see. But presently a puff, taking him unawares, filled his eyes with
dust difficult of removal. Whereupon he turned his back to the wind.
The afternoon grew apace; the sun glistened on the white patches of
Coconina Mountain; it set; and the wind died.
"Five miles of red sand," said Naab. "Here's what kills the horses.
Getup."
There was no trail. All before was red sand, hollows, slopes, levels,
dunes, in which the horses sank above their fetlocks. The wheels
ploughed deep, and little red streams trailed down from the tires. Naab
trudged on foot with the reins in his hands. Hare essayed to walk also,
soon tired, and floundered behind till Naab ordered him to ride again.
Twilight came with the horses still toiling.
"There! thankful I am when we get off that strip! But, Jack, that trailless
waste prevents a night raid on my home. Even the Navajos shun it after
dark. We'll be home soon. There's my sign. See? Night or day we call it
the Blue Star."
35
外語下載中心http://down.tingroom.com
High in the black cliff a star-shaped, wind-worn hole let the blue sky
through.
There was cheer in Naab's "Getup," now, and the horses quickened
with it. Their iron-shod hoofs struck fire from the rosy road. "Easy,
easy— soho!" cried Naab to his steeds. In the pitchy blackness under the
shelving cliff they picked their way cautiously, and turned a corner.
Lights twinkled in Hare's sight, a fresh breeze, coming from water,
dampened his cheek, and a hollow rumble, a long roll as of distant thunder, filled his ears.
"What's that?" he asked.
"That, my lad, is what I always love to hear. It means I'm home. It's the
roar of the Colorado as she takes her first plunge into the Canyon."
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