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以下歐美電影榜英文介紹
Zane Grey (January 31, 1872 – October 23, 1939) was an American author best known for his popular adventure novels and pulp fiction that
presented an idealized image of the rugged Old West. As of June 2007,
the Internet Movie Database credits Grey with 110 films, one TV episode,
and one entire TV Series based on his novels and stories. Source:
Wikipedia
2
外語下載中心http://down.tingroom.com
Chapter
1
THE SIGN OF THE SUNSET
"BUT the man's almost dead."
The words stung John Hare's fainting spirit into life. He opened his
eyes. The desert still stretched before him, the appalling thing that had
overpowered him with its deceiving purple distance. Near by stood a
sombre group of men.
"Leave him here," said one, addressing a gray-bearded giant. "He's the
fellow sent into southern Utah to spy out the cattle thieves. He's all but
dead. Dene's outlaws are after him. Don't cross Dene."
The stately answer might have come from a Scottish Covenanter or a
follower of Cromwell.
"Martin Cole, I will not go a hair's-breadth out of my way for Dene or
any other man. You forget your religion. I see my duty to God."
"Yes, August Naab, I know," replied the little man, bitterly. "You
would cast the Scriptures in my teeth, and liken this man to one who
went down from Jerusalem to Jericho and fell among thieves. But I've
suffered enough at the hands of Dene."
The formal speech, the Biblical references, recalled to the reviving
Hare that he was still in the land of the Mormons. As he lay there the
strange words of the Mormons linked the hard experience of the last few
days with the stern reality of the present.
"Martin Cole, I hold to the spirit of our fathers," replied Naab, like one
reading from the Old Testament. "They came into this desert land to
worship and multiply in peace. They conquered the desert; they
prospered with the years that brought settlers, cattle-men, sheep-herders, all hostile to their religion and their livelihood. Nor did they ever
fail to succor the sick and unfortunate. What are our toils and perils compared to theirs? Why should we forsake the path of duty, and turn from
mercy because of a cut-throat outlaw? I like not the sign of the times, but
I am a Mormon; I trust in God."
3
外語下載中心http://down.tingroom.com
"August Naab, I am a Mormon too," returned Cole, "but my hands are
stained with blood. Soon yours will be if you keep your water-holes and
your cattle. Yes, I know. You're strong, stronger than any of us, far off in
your desert oasis, hemmed in by walls, cut off by canyons, guarded by
your Navajo friends. But Holderness is creeping slowly on you. He'll ignore your water rights and drive your stock. Soon Dene will steal cattle
under your very eyes. Don't make them enemies."
"I can't pass by this helpless man," rolled out August Naab's sonorous
voice.
Suddenly, with livid face and shaking hand, Cole pointed westward.
"There! Dene and his band! See, under the red wall; see the dust, not ten
miles away. See them?"
The desert, gray in the foreground, purple in the distance, sloped to
the west. Eyes keen as those of hawks searched die waste, and followed
the red mountain rampart, which, sheer in bold height and processional
in its craggy sweep, shut out the north. Far away little puffs of dust rose
above the white sage, and creeping specks moved at a snail's pace.
"See them? Ah! then look, August Naab, look in the heavens above for
my prophecy," cried Cole, fanatically. "The red sunset—the sign of the
times—blood!"
A broad bar of dense black shut out the April sky, except in the extreme west, where a strip of pale blue formed background for several
clouds of striking color and shape. They alone, in all that expanse, were
dyed in the desert's sunset crimson. The largest projected from behind
the dark cloud-bank in the shape of a huge fist, and the others, small and
round, floated below. To Cole it seemed a giant hand, clutching, with inexorable strength, a bleeding heart. His terror spread to his companions
as they stared.
Then, as light surrendered to shade, the sinister color faded; the tracing of the closed hand softened; flush and glow paled, leaving the sky
purple, as if mirroring the desert floor. One golden shaft shot up, to be
blotted out by sudden darkening change, and the sun had set.
"That may be God's will," said August Naab. "So be it. Martin Cole,
take your men and go."
There was a word, half oath, half prayer, and then rattle of stirrups,
the creak of saddles, and clink of spurs, followed by the driving rush of
fiery horses. Cole and his men disappeared in a pall of yellow dust.
4
外語下載中心http://down.tingroom.com
A wan smile lightened John Hare's face as he spoke weakly: "I fear
your— generous act—can't save me … may bring you harm. I'd rather
you left me—seeing you have women in your party."
"Don't try to talk yet," said August Naab. "You're faint. Here—drink."
He stooped to Hare, who was leaning against a sage-bush, and held a
flask to his lips. Rising, he called to his men: "Make camp, sons. We've an
hour before the outlaws come up, and if they don't go round the sanddune we'll have longer."
Hare's flagging senses rallied, and he forgot himself in wonder. While
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