India -- Social life and customs -- Fiction; Short stories, English
The thick lips curled back over the yellow teeth, and that flushed face
was not pretty to look upon. Mulvaney nodded sympathy, and Ortheris, moved
by his comrade's passion, brought up the rifle to his shoulder, and
searched the hillside for his quarry, muttering ribaldry about a sparrow,
a spout, and a thunderstorm. The voice of the watercourse supplied the
necessary small talk till Learoyd picked up his story,
"But it's none so easy to kill a man like yon. When I'd given up my horses
to th' lad as took my place and I was showin' th' preacher th' workin's,
shoutin' into his ear across th' clang o' th' pumpin' engines, I saw he
were afraid o' naught; and when the lamplight showed his black eyes, I
could feel as he was masterin' me again. I were no better nor Blast
chained up short and growlin' i' the depths of him while a strange dog
went safe past.
"'Th' art a coward and a fool,' I said to mysen; an' I wrestled i' my mind
again' him till, when we come to Garstang's Copper-hole, I laid hold o'
the preacher and lifted him up over my head and held him into the darkest
on it. 'Now, lad,' I says, 'it's to be one or t'other on us--thee or
me--for 'Liza Roantree. Why, isn't thee afraid for thysen?' I says, for he
were still i' my arms as a sack. 'Nay; I'm but afraid for thee, my poor
lad, as knows naught,' says he. I set him down on th' edge, an' th' beck
run stiller, an' there was no more buzzin' in my head like when th' bee
come through th' window o' Jesse's house. 'What dost tha mean?' says I.
"'I've often thought as thou ought to know,' says he, 'but 'twas hard to
tell thee. 'Liza Roantree's for neither on us, nor for nobody o' this
earth, Dr. Warbottom says--and he knows her, and her mother before
her--that she is in a decline, and she cannot live six months longer. He's
known it for many a day. Steady, John! Steady!' says he. And that weak
little man pulled me further back and set me again' him, and talked it all
over quiet and still, me turnin' a bunch o' candles in my hand, and
counting them ower and ower again as I listened. A deal on it were th'
regular preachin' talk, but there were a vast lot as made me begin to
think as he were more of a man than I'd ever given him credit for, till I
were cut as deep for him as I were for mysen.
"Six candles we had, and we crawled and climbed all that day while they
lasted, and I said to mysen, ''Liza Roantree hasn't six months to live.'
And when we came into th' daylight again we were like dead men to look at,
an' Blast come behind us without so much as waggin' his tail. When I saw
'Liza again she looked at me a minute and says, 'Who's telled tha? For I
see tha knows.' And she tried to smile as she kissed me, and I fair broke
down.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account