Chapter 13 Chapter Nine (Part 1)

But, in 1930, Drogheda got a taste of depression.Men all over Australia are out looking for work.Those who cannot pay their rent are looking in vain for work when there is no work to do.People abandoned their children and daughters one after another and took care of themselves.The wives and children who lived in the huts on the Zemstvo lined up to receive the alms, and the fathers and husbands went out and wandered.The man packs his basic necessities in a blanket, straps them with leather straps, and carries them on his back before setting off, hoping that the ranch he passes will get him something to eat, if not hire him.They carried their bundles and traveled across the outback on the well-traveled roads, spending the night in the city of Sydney.

Food was cheap, and Paddy filled Drogheda's pantries and warehouses to the brim.Everyone can fill their travel bag when they get to Drogheda.The strange thing is that the wandering people who come here are always changing; once they have filled their stomachs with steaming good meat and filled their rations for the road, they have no intention of staying in the inn, but wandering around. , seeking what only they know.In any case, not every place was as benevolent as Drogheda, and the people here were just baffled as to why the on-the-goers had no intention of staying.Perhaps it is the boredom and aimlessness of being homeless and having nowhere to go that keeps them adrift.Most struggled to stay alive, some fell and died, if the crows and boars hadn't eaten them down to skeletons.People buried them.The interior is a vast and remote place.

Stuart was again kept at home indefinitely, with a shotgun always leaning not far from the store kitchen door.Good stockmen were easy to come by, and Paddy's roster showed that nine bachelors lived in the shabby new stockman's shed, so that Stuart would be free from the paddocks, and Fee couldn't keep the cash lying around, To be on the safe side, she asked Stuart to make a dark cabinet behind the altar in the chapel.There are very few villains among Rangers.Bad guys would rather stay in big cities and rural towns; for bad guys, the life on the road is too pure and lonely, lacking those messy things.Paddy, however, did not want to risk the women of his family, and no one could have complained.Drogheda's reputation was a great allure to the few outlaws on the road.

There were severe winter storms that year, some dry and some wet.In the following spring and summer, the rainfall was very abundant, and Drogheda's pastures grew thicker and deeper than in previous years. Jens and Patsy were painstakingly studying their lessons at Mrs. Smith's kitchen table, and now they were buzzing about what it would be like when they arrived at Rivermew School, where they were going to board.This kind of talk would make Mrs. Smith very angry, though, and they had learned not to leave Drogheda within earshot of her. The sky became dry again, and in the rainless summer, the knee-deep grass was all dry, scorched and curled up, shining silvery white.Since they have lived on this black soil plain for ten years, they have become accustomed to this phenomenon of repeated dryness and muddyness.Men just shrugged and walked around like it was just something that was going to happen.Really, the main business here is basically trying to survive between one good year and the next, whatever the climate it's going to be.No one can predict the rain.In Brisbane a man named Inigo Jones has done something about long-range weather forecasting, using a new method of sunspot activity.However, when he came to the Black Soil Plain, he didn't quite believe what he said.Let the little girls of Sydney and Melbourne listen respectfully to his forecasts; the people of the Black Plains cling to their deep-seated stereotypes.

In the winter of 1932, dry storms were blowing again, and the weather was extremely cold, but the dust on the lush grass was reduced to a minimum, and the flies were not as numerous as usual.That's not good for the vigorous, tragically shorn sheep.Mrs. Dominique O'Rourke, who lived in a modest log house, was fond of receiving visitors from Sydney; one of the highlights of her tourist schedule was a visit to Drogheda Manor; The authors show that even far away on this black-soil plain, some people live a high life.The conversation always turned to those lean, soaked sheep.In the winter, the flocks are shorn of five or six inches of wool, which grows out as soon as the hot summer arrives.But, as Paddy said very solemnly to one such visitor, it helped to get a finer wool.It's the wool that counts, not the lamb.Shortly after his comments, the Sydney Morning Herald published a letter urging parliament to legislate to end what it called "grazier cruelty".Poor Mrs. O'Rourke was frightened, but Paddy laughed until his stomach ached.

"This stupid fellow has never seen a stockman slit a sheep's belly and sew it up with a packing needle," he comforted the terrified Mrs. O'Rourke. "It's not worth worrying about, Mrs. Dominique. They live in the city and don't know how the other half live, and he can pamper their cattle as much as a child at any expense. Once he leaves the city he won't Same, here you never see a needy man, woman or child being ignored, but in the city these same doting people don't hear a man's cries for help ." Fee looked up. "He's right, Mrs. Dominique," she said. "No matter what it is, it's worthless if there are too many. There are many sheep here, and there are many people in the city."

One day in August Paddy was alone in the field when a great storm broke out.He got off his horse, tied the animal fast to a tree, and sat down under a rue tree to wait for the storm to pass.All five dogs huddled beside him, trembling, while the sheep, which he was about to move to another paddock, scattered in frightened groups of three and two.The storm came very frighteningly, it accumulated violent and abnormal power, and it didn't start to show its power until the center of the big whirlwind approached the head.Pabian blocked his ears with his fingers, closed his eyes tightly, and prayed silently.

Where he sat, the shedding rue leaves rustled incessantly in the whirling wind, and not far away there was a pile of dead stumps and logs, surrounded by deep-rooted grass, amidst the whitish heap. In the midst of the twigs and twigs stood a massive dead eucalyptus, its bare trunk rising forty feet into the dark clouds, its pointed and jagged top thin and long. The blue lightning that flashed across the sky was so bright and dazzling that it pierced Paddy's eyes through his closed eyelids, making him jump up suddenly, and then he was knocked down like a doll by a huge explosion. on the ground.He raised his face from the ground, and saw the last majestic bolt of lightning flashing around the top of the dead tree in a blinding violet halo; and then, before he knew what had happened, all Everything was on fire in an instant.The last drop of water had evaporated from the tissue of the rotting thing, and the overgrown grass was deep and dry as paper.As if the earth responded to the challenge of the sky, a long flame spewed from the top of the great tree; at the same time, the logs and stumps around it also burned.Around this center, a circle of fire swept outward in a whirlwind, expanding circle after circle, expanding, expanding.Paddy didn't even have time to get to his horse.

The parched rue was also ablaze, gum oozing from its wet, tender heart.As far as Paddy looked, there were thick walls of fire; the woods were burning, and the grass beneath his feet roared and burst into flames.He heard his horse neighing, and the sound made his heart leap.He couldn't just sit there and watch the poor beast chained, helpless, and burned alive.A dog burst into a frenzy, and the frenzy turned into a human-like scream of pain.For a moment it danced wildly like a dancing torch, and then slowly fell to the blazing grass.Other dogs fleeing, screaming, were engulfed in the swiftly spreading fire, which rode the wind faster than anything with eyes and wings.As he stood there trying to figure out which way was closest to his horse, the engulfing flames scorched his hair in an instant.He looked down and saw a large group of cockatoos being roasted and creaking under his feet.

Paddy realized suddenly that this was the end.In this hell, neither he nor his horse has a way out.Even as he was thinking this way, the uncultivated virgin land behind him was already on fire on all sides, and the eucalyptus trees were crackling and bursting.Already the skin on Paddy's arms was shrinking and darkening, and the hair on his head was finally blurring beneath something brighter.Such a death is indescribable, for the fire burns from the outside in.The last thing to die is the brain and the heart, which will eventually be burnt out of use.Paddy, clad in flames, danced and screamed in the carnage of fire, calling his wife's name with that horrible howl.

The other men made it back to the Drogheda estate before the storm and put the horses in the stock paddocks.Some went to the mansion, some to the shed.In Fee's brightly lit living room, logs crackled in the cream and pink marble fireplace.The Cleary boys sat and listened to the storm; these days no one dared venture outside to have a look.The eucalyptus wood burning in the fireplace exudes a good spicy smell, and the tea cart is full of eggs and sandwiches, which is very tempting.Nobody expected Paddy to come back for tea. At about four o'clock, the clouds rolled in to the east, and everyone breathed a sigh of relief; although every building in Drogheda had lightning shields on it, no one knew why when a dry storm came. Can't take it lightly.Jack and Bob stood up, saying they were going outside to get some fresh air, but really they wanted to relieve their pent-up breath. "Look!" Jack said, pointing to the west. A great plume of bronze-colored smoke was rising from the woods surrounding the home enclosure, its upper edge ripped into a horizontal smoke band. "Jesus!" Jack yelled.He ran into the house and headed for the telephone. "Fire, fire!" he yelled into the microphone.Those who remained in the room turned and stared at him dumbfounded, and he then went outside to watch again. "Drogheda's on fire, big fire!" And then he hung up; that's all he needed to say to the Gilly switchboard, and to the people along the line who were in the habit of grabbing their phones when they rang.Although there had never been a major fire in the Geary area since the Clearys had come to Drogheda, they were aware of the routine. The boys split up to ride, and the stockmen squeezed out of the stockman's shed.Meanwhile, Mrs. Smith opened a warehouse and moved out a dozen sacks.The smoke was to the west, and the wind was blowing from that direction, which meant that the fire would be advancing towards the estate.Fee took off her long skirt and put on Paddy's breeches, and ran with Meggie to the stables; every hand that could move a sack was needed now. In the kitchen, Mrs. Smith stoked the fire in the hearth, and the maids set to work removing large pots from hooks in the ceiling. "Fortunately we killed a young bull yesterday," said the housekeeper. "Here's the key to the liquor store, Minnie. Get all our beer and rum, and then, while we stew, you'll make drink bread. Quick, quick!" Fee and Meggie mounted the two kicking, unruly thoroughbreds from the stables and out into the yard, as the storm-smelling, smoke-smelling horses were hard to saddle for more. Keep them under control.While Meggie was doing her best to deal with the sorrel mare, two tramps came plodding up from the road in the direction of Gilly. "Fire, ladies, fire! Got two extra horses? Give us some bags." "Go down that road to the stock paddock. Good God, I hope none of you get burned over there!" said Meggie, who didn't know her father was there yet. The two men hastily grabbed some sacks and water-sacks from Mrs. Smith, and Bob and the men had been gone for five minutes.The two bums followed, and Fee and Meggie were the last to leave.They galloped towards the creek, crossed the creek, and disappeared in the direction of the smoke. Behind them came Tom the gardener, who filled the big water truck with the drilling pump and started the engine.Since it hadn't rained heavily, there wasn't enough water to put out the fire, that is, he needed to keep those sacks wet, and people were waving those sacks.When he drove the truck in low gear to the far bank of the creek, he stepped on the brake and looked back for a moment at the empty stockman's house where the man was going.There were two empty houses in the distance, and this was the weakest part of the estate, the only place where combustibles could get close to the woods beyond the creek.Old Tom looked west, and shook his head, suddenly determined.He managed to reverse the truck across the creek and turned around onto the nearby bank.They couldn't stop the fire on the other side of the paddock at all, and they had to back off, and he got to the top of the gully next to the ranchman's house where he used to live, hooked up the hose and the tank, and started dousing these building; then he went over the foreman's house to the two smaller houses on the side of the ditch, and watered them also.This is where he can be most helpful, getting the three houses soaked so they don't catch fire. As Fee and Meggie rode side by side, an ominous cloud of smoke rose in the west, blowing with the wind a growing smell of burning.As the sky grew darker, more and more wild animals came fleeing from the west, kangaroos, wild boars, shivering sheep and cattle, emus, lizards and hundreds of rabbits.When she rode into Billa-Billa from Ballhead, she found Bob leaving the paddock doors wide open--every paddock in Drogheda had a name.Sheep could be so stupid that they would scurry into a fence and stand at the foot of a fence not far from an open gate without seeing the gate at all. When people arrived at the fire site, the fire had advanced ten miles and was still spreading on both sides, and the fire was spreading forward every second.Long, deep grass and high winds caused the fire to leap from one wood to the next.They sat helplessly looking westward on their panic-stricken, bit-strangled horses.It is impossible to stop the fire here, and it is impossible for an army to stop it here.They had to get back to the estate, the guard estate, if they could do it.The fire front was already five miles wide, and if they hadn't pressed the weary mounts the fire would have caught up with them and passed them.The situation is too bad for the sheep, but nothing can be done about it. Old Tom was still washing the houses by the creek as they hoofed across the shallow current through the fordable place. "Good man, Tom!" Bob shouted. "Water them down till they're soaked, and they'll last a long time hear you? You're not a brash hero, much better than some elm-headed people." The manor yard was full of cars, and the headlights of many more danced and blazed on the road from Gilly; Humans stood there waiting for them. "Is it hot, Bob?" Martin King asked. "I think the fire is too hot to save," said Bob, desperately. "I estimate the fire was about five miles across. The wind was so strong that the fire spread almost as fast as a galloping horse. I don't know if we'll be able to save the estate, but I think Kiri should be prepared to defend it." His place is gone and it will be his turn next because I don't know how to put out this fire." "Well, we're too late for such a fire. The last one was in 1919. I'm going to organize a group to go to Bill-Bill, but we've got too many people here, and there's more coming People. Gilly could mobilize like 500 people to fight a fire. Thank goodness I'm west of Drogheda, so that's all I can say." Bob grinned. "You are such a hard-hearted comforter, Martin." Martin looked around. "Bob, where is your father?" "West of the fire, like your Bugela pasture. He went over to the rue grove to get some lambing ewes together. I reckon the rue grove was at least five miles west of where the fire started." ." "No one else worries you?" "Thank God, not today." In a way, Meggie thought, as she entered the house, this was really like a war: swift action with command, food and drink that had to be taken care of, strength and courage.The threat of disaster is imminent.After the others came.He joined the crowd already in the home enclosure, who were bringing down the scattered trees next to the banks of the creek and clearing the overgrown grass all around.Meggie recalled thinking, when she first came to Drogheda, that the Home Paddock must have been so much nicer before.In contrast, the trees around it look lush and lush, but it is bare and very desolate.Now, she understands why.The home enclosure is nothing more than a giant circular fire yard. Everyone is talking about the various fires that have occurred in the Kiri area for over 70 years.It's so odd that during the long drought the fire never posed a major threat because there wasn't enough grass to spread the fire far.There have been several fires like this one. One or two years after the Fuyu, the grass grew deep and lush and became a fire ground, so a big fire broke out in Kiri.Sometimes such fires can get out of control and burn hundreds of miles. Martin King commanded the 300 remaining men to protect Drogheda.He is an older rancher in the area and has battled fires for 50 years. "I have 150,000 hectares of land in Buguira," he said. "In 1905, I lost all the sheep and trees in my area. It took me 15 years to recover. For a while, I thought I could not recover." Get up, because wool and beef don't get a good price in those days." The wind was still howling, and the smell of burning could be smelled everywhere.Night had fallen, but the western sky was brightly lit by the terrible fire, and the low smoke began to choke them.It wasn't long before they saw the front of the fire, a huge tongue of flame dancing, twisting, rising 100 yards, turning into thick smoke, whirring like the overexcited spectators in a football field. The shouts were deafening, and the west side of the woods surrounding the home's paddock had caught fire and turned into a thick wall of fire.When Meggie looked down the corridor of the manor in a daze, she could see people's tiny figures reflected in the fire, jumping up and down, like those souls in hell who were extremely tormented. "Meggie, can you come in and put these dishes back in the sideboard? Girl! We're not having a picnic, you know!" came Mom's voice.She reluctantly turned around and walked over. Two hours later, the first group of exhausted men staggered in and ate and drank eagerly to recover their exhausted strength before returning to fight again.The women of the ranch worked hard to ensure that there was enough stew, drink bread, tea, rum and beer, more than enough to feed even 300 people.During a fire, everyone was doing what was best for him or her, that is to say, the women were cooking to keep the men strong.Crates of wine were drained and replaced with new ones; the men were blackened with soot and staggered with fatigue.They stood there gulping their wine, stuffing their mouths with chunks of bread, gobbling down a platter full of meat as soon as the meat was done, and downing the last mug of rum. , and went back to the scene of the fire. Meggie, running around the kitchen, watched the fire in horror.Fire itself has a grandeur beyond the beauty of all things, for it is a thing from heaven, a thing inexorably from the distant sun, a thing from God and the devil.The fire front had advanced rapidly to the east, and they were now completely surrounded.Meggie could see everything, and nothing could survive where the leading edge of this indefinable conflagration passed.Black, orange, red, white, and yellow were mixed together, and the black silhouette of a big tree was inlaid with an orange shell, burning slowly, shining with dazzling white light; the red embers were like Floating and twirling in the sky like ghosts of melting drama: the heart-burnt trees were yellow and throbbing; a eucalyptus tree seemed to burst, and the blinding crimson bark rained down; Suddenly a tongue of orange and white flames sprang up from something that had been burning until now, and at last it could not stand the fire.Oh, yes, it was a grand sight in the dark, and she would remember it for the rest of her life. The wind picked up suddenly, and the women were all climbing the wisteria branches to the silver-tin roof covered with sacks, because the men were all outside in the livestock paddocks.Although they were armed with wet sacks, their hands and knees were burned through the sacks.They swept away the embers on the burning roof, fearing that the iron roof would not be able to withstand the accumulation of ashes above and would collapse, and the flaming debris would fall on the wooden piles below.But the most terrible fire had moved ten miles east, toward Bill-Bill. The Drogheda estate is only three miles from the eastern limit of the property, and is the closest to Geary.Bill-Bill borders this property, and further east is Naringam.When the wind speed increased from 40 miles per hour to 60 miles per hour, all people in this area understood that unless there was rain, there was nothing to stop the fire from continuing to burn for weeks, destroying first-class land for hundreds of miles. Turned into a piece of scorched earth. The houses on the creek burned the worst of the fire, though Tom filled his water tanker and watered and filled and burned.But now the wind speed increased, and the house burned.Tom got in the truck, crying. "You'd better get on your knees and ask God the wind doesn't pick up when the fire front is west of us," Martin King said. "If it gets any windier, it's not only the farm that's going to be over, we're going to be over too. Jesus, I hope nothing happens to Bill-Bill!" Fee handed him a tall glass of rum without water.Although he was not a young man, he fought, did what the situation called for, and directed all actions with masterful grace. "It's so silly," she said to him. "While everything seemed to be burning, the wind kept thinking of something strange. I wasn't thinking about death, or about the children, or about the destruction of this gorgeous house. All I could think about was My sewing basket, my half-done knitting, and those heart-shaped cake pans that Frank made me years ago. How can I live without them? You know, all these little things These are irreplaceable, store-bought items." "Actually, that's what most women think. It's interesting how the head reacts, isn't it? I remember, it was 1905, and I was yelling like crazy, following my wife's She fled back home, but she just grabbed a stretcher with a little piece of embroidery on it." Martin King grinned. "Our house was ruined, but we escaped in time. When I built a new home, one of the first things she did was finish her piece of embroidery. It was an old-fashioned piece of embroidery, you You know what I'm talking about. It's embroidered on it. Homeland, dear homeland." He put down the empty glass and shook his head, disapproving of the woman's incomprehensible behavior. "I've got to go. Garif Davies needs us to go to Naringam. Angus will go to Rudna Hunish, unless I guess wrong." Fee turned pale. "God, are you going that far right now?" "A gentleman's word is hard to follow, Fee. Blue and Burke are rounding up." The fire raged eastward for three days, its front constantly widening.Then, suddenly, there was a heavy rain that lasted for almost four days, extinguishing every coal.However, the fire has swept hundreds of miles, from the center east of Droghay to Rudna Hunisch, the last estate in the border area of ​​​​Kilambo, burning a wide line between this area. Ten miles of black scorched land. Nobody expected to hear about Paddy until the rains started, because they thought he was safe, far away on the other side of the burn zone, separated by the heat of the ground and the still-burning woods.The fire hadn't damaged the phone lines, and Bob thought they'd get a call from Martin King, because it was a logical inference that Paddy would try to go west and take refuge at the Bugela estate.However, after six hours of rain, there was still no news of him, and they began to worry.For the past four days they had been at peace, seeing no reason for anxiety, thinking that he was simply being cut off, and had decided to wait; rather than go to Bukira to find him, they would rather wait for him to return home. "It's time for him to come back now," Bob said.He walked up and down the living room, and everyone else looked at him.Ironically, the rain had chilled the air and a fire was blazing in the marble hearth. "Bob, what do you think?" Jack asked. "I think it's time we went to him. He might be wounded, or he was walking a long way home; perhaps his horse, frightened, threw him Immobilized somewhere. He only had overnight food, and though he wouldn't die of starvation, it wouldn't be enough for four days anyway. It's best not to create a fuss just now, so I don't have to take the The men from Niringam have called back. But if we don't find him before dark, I'll ride over to Dominique. Tomorrow we'll be asking all over the country. God, I hope the Central Those guys get those phone lines busy!" Fee was shaking, and her eyes were blazing wildly, almost frantically. "I'm going to put my trousers on," she said, "and I can't bear to sit here and wait." "Mom, stay home!" Bob begged. "Bob, if he gets hurt somewhere, something could happen at any moment. You've sent the pickers to Naringam, and that's making us go out in search of desperate men. If I go with Meggie, whatever happens Together we'll be strong enough to handle any situation. But if Meggie goes alone, it would be a waste for her if one of you had to accompany her in the search, let alone Mention me." Bob backed down. "All right, then. You can ride Meggie's gelding, you've ridden it to the fire. Everyone take a rifle with extra bullets." They set off on horseback, across the creek, and into the heart of the burned area.Not a single green or gray thing to be seen anywhere, just a large swath of sodden black charcoal still steaming incredibly after hours of rain.Every leaf on every tree becomes a soft, curly fiber.Where there used to be grass.Here and there little lumps of dark stuff could be seen.These were sheep killed by fire, and larger animals such as steers or wild boars accidentally killed by fire.The tears on their faces mixed with the rain. Bob and Meggie went at the head of the little procession, Jack and Hughie in the middle, Fee and Stuart at the rear.For Fee and Stuart, the journey was uneventful.There was comfort in their closeness, that they did not speak, that they could be content with each other's company.Sometimes the horses drew close because they saw some dire sign.There was a sudden separation, but it seemed to have no effect on the final pair of riders.The mud made their walk slow and difficult, but the charred clumps of grass on the ground, like a carpet of coarse fibers, gave the horses a place to stay.Every fence on the far horizon held them in hope of seeing Paddy there, but the minutes passed and he never appeared. With a heavy heart they realized that the fire was farther away than they had imagined, beyond the rue paddock.They must have mistook the storm clouds for smoke when the fire was far away.The demarcation zone that was on fire left people dumbfounded.On one side of a sharp and crooked dividing line lay nothing but black tar that gleamed, while on the other side was the land they had all seen, beige and blue-gray, very gloomy in the rain, but But vibrant.Bob stopped, stepped back, and said to everyone: "Hey, let's start here. I'll go in the front direction from here, which is the most likely direction, and I'm the strongest. Everyone has enough ammunition? Good. If you find anything, go to the Three shots are fired in the sky, and whoever hears the shot must fire one in response. Then wait. No matter who fired the three shots, three shots will be fired five minutes later, and three shots will be fired every five minutes Gun. The person who heard it responded with a shot. "Jack, you follow the fire line. Hughie, you go southwest. I'll go two. Ma and Meggie, you go northwest. Stu, follow the fire line due north. Everyone walks slowly Some. It's hard to see when it's raining, and there's woods everywhere. Scream a little, and maybe hear you where Daddy can't see you. But remember, unless you see something, No shooting otherwise, because he didn't have a gun with him, and if he heard gunshots he'd keep yelling and that's not good for him. "Good luck everyone and God bless you." Just like the pilgrims at the last fork, they parted ways in the gray and continuous rain, getting higher and further away from each other, their figures getting smaller and smaller, and finally disappeared on the predetermined road. Stewart had only traveled half a mile when he spotted a charred wood not far from the line of fire.There was a little rue tree there, black and wrinkled like a little black mop.Next to the charred dividing line, a tall tree stump remained.What he saw was Paddy's horse, lying on all fours, fused to the trunk of a giant gum tree; and Paddy's dogs were little black stiff things with limbs like sticks. Stretched.He dismounted from his horse, the mud up to his ankles, and took his rifle from its saddle sheath.His lips were moving, and he was praying as he slid and stumbled through the hard charcoal.Had it not been for the sight of the horse and the boy, he would have hoped it was a tramp or a worn-out hiker caught on fire and trapped.But Paddy was riding with five dogs, and no one would ride with more than one dog on this road.This was deep in the heart of Drogheda, and it was impossible to think of this as a cattle dealer on foot, or a cattleman heading west from Bugela.In the distance, three other dogs were charred; five dogs in all.He knew he wouldn't find Article 6, and he couldn't find it either. There was a log not far from the horse, and when he approached it he found a charred man nestled there.It can't be wrong.The man lay on his back, shining in the rain.The back is bent like a big bow, with a concave in the middle, and the two ends are bent upwards. Except for the shoulders and buttocks, the other parts are not touching the ground.The man opened his arms, raised them up, and bent his elbows, as if he was begging bitterly; the skin was all peeled off, exposing the scorched bones, and his fingers were shaped like melons, as if they had scratched something empty.The legs were also spread out, but the knees were bent, and the black head looked blankly at the sky. Stewart's sharp gaze rested on his father for a moment.他看到的不是一个毁坏了的躯壳，而是一个人，就好象他还活着似的。他把步枪指向天空，开了一枪，又装上一粒子弹，开了第二枪，再装了一粒子弹，第三枪也打响了。他隐隐地听见远处有一声回答的枪响，接着，在更远的地方传来了极其微弱的枪声，这是第二个回答。随后他便想起，较近的枪声大概是来自他母亲和姐姐的。她们是往西北，他是往北。他没有等到规定的五分钟，便又往枪膛里装上了一粒子弹，把枪指向了正西方，开了枪。停顿了一下，重新上子弹，开第二枪，再上子弹，第三枪。他将武器放在了身后的地面上，站在那里望着南边，翘首谛听着。这一次，头一声回答是从西边来的，这是鲍勃开的枪，第二个回答是来自杰克或休吉，第三个回答来自母亲。他冲着步枪叹了口气，他不希望是你最先赶到他这里。 这样，他没有看见在北边的树林里出现了一头硕大的野猪，但是他闻到了野猪的气息。这头野猪体大如牛，笨重的躯干滚圆溜肥；当它低头拱着潮湿的地皮走过来的时候，那短而有力的腿在颤抖着。枪声惊动了它，它正在痛苦中挣扎呢。它身体一侧的稀疏的黑毛被烧光了，露出了鲜红的肉。当斯图尔特凝视着南边的时候，他闻到的正是那股烤猪皮的香味，就象是从锅里冒出的一股烤肘子的味道，被砍伤的表皮全都烤跪了。他琢磨着他以前一定到过这个地方，这片湿透了的，黑色的土地在他降生之日就已经铭刻在他大脑的某一部分之中了；恰在此时，他从这种似乎早就体验过的、今人难以理解的平静的忧伤中惊觉了过来，他转过头去。 他弯下腰去摸枪，想起它还没有上膛。那头公野猪一动不动地站在那里，发红的小眼睛由于疼痛而显得疯狂，黄色的獠牙十分尖利，呈半圆形向上翘着。斯图尔特的马嘶叫起来，它嗅到那畜牲的气味了。野猪转过笨重的脑袋望着它，随后放低姿势准备攻击了。在它的注意力转向那匹马的时候，斯图尔特找到了唯一的机会，他飞快地弯腰抓直了步枪，啪地拉开枪栓，另一只手从茄克衫的口袋里摸出一颗子弹。四面还在下着雨，那持续的嗒嗒雨声盖住了其他响声。但是，野猪却听到了枪机向后滑动的声音，在最后的一刻，它将攻击的方向从马转向了斯图尔特。当他一枪直射进那畜牲的胸膛时，野猪已经快扑到他身上了，但是它的速度一点儿也没有减低。那对獠牙斜了一下，扑偏了，撞在了他的肋上。他跌倒在地上，血就象开足了的水龙头似地涌了出来，浸透了他的衣服，喷了满地。 当野猪感觉到吃了子弹的时候，便拙笨地掉过身来，它踉跄着，摇晃着，步履蹒跚地用獠牙刺他。那1500镑的身体压在了他的身上，将他的脸压进了满是柏树脂的泥浆之中。有那么一会儿，他的双手抓着两边的土地，狂乱而徒劳地挣扎着，试图挣出来，这种时刻也是他早就料到的，这就是为什么他从没有过希望、梦想和计划，只是坐在那里，沉迷于生气勃勃的世界，没有时间为自己的命运而痛苦伤悲的原因。他在想着，"妈，妈！我为能和你在一起了，妈！"甚至当他的心脏在体内爆裂的时候，他还在这样想着。 "我不明白，斯图为什么不再开枪呢？"梅吉问她妈妈。她们策马向着两次连放三枪的地方小跑着，在泥泞之中无法跑得再快了，她们感到心急如火。 "我猜，他一定是认为我们已经听到了，"菲说道。但是，在思想深处她却在回忆着分头往不同方向去寻找时，斯图尔特的脸色；回忆着他伸手抓住她的手时的神态，和他向她微笑时的样子。"我们现在离得不会太远了，"她说着，逼着她的马不灵活地、一滑一跌地慢跑着。 可是，杰克已经先到了那里，鲍勃也到了。当他们从那最后一片充满生机的土地上向这大火燃起的地方奔来时，他们抢在了女人的面前。 "别过来，妈，"当她下马的时候，鲍勃说道。 杰克跑到梅吉的身边，抓住了她的胳臂。 那两对灰眼睛转到一边去了。当她们看到这情形的时候，并没有感到特别惶乱和恐惧，好象什么都无需告诉她们似的。 "是帕迪吗？"菲用一种不象是自己的声音问道。 "是的。还有斯图。" 两个儿子都不敢望她。 "斯图，斯图！你说什么？斯图？哦，上帝啊，这是怎么了，出什么事了？不会是他们俩吧--不会的？ "爹爹被火围住了，他死了。斯图一定是惊动了一头公野猪，它袭击了他。他向它开了枪，可是，在它垂死挣扎的时候，倒在了他的身上，把他压住了。他也死了，妈。" 梅吉尖叫了一声，挣扎了起来，试图挣脱杰克的手；可是菲却象石头人般地站在那里，鲍勃那双肮脏的、沾满血污的手抱着她。她的眼睛呆滞无光，直勾勾地望着。 "这太过份了，"她终于说道，抬头望着鲍勃，雨水从她的脸上流下，一缕缕的头发披散在脖子周围，就象是金黄色的涓涓细流。"鲍勃，让我到他们身边去，我是其中一个人的妻子，是另一个人的母亲。你不能让我远远地站着--你没有权利让我远远地站着。让我到他们身边去。" 梅吉一言不发，站在那里，依在杰克的怀抱中，两手抱着他的肩头。当鲍勃搂着妈妈的腰走过那片被毁灭的地方时，梅吉望着他们的背影，但是她没有跟他们去。休吉从迷膝的雨中出现了；杰克冲着妈妈和鲍勃点了点头。 "跟他们去，和他们呆在一起。我和梅吉回德罗海达把大车赶来。"他放开了梅吉，帮着她骑上了栗色牝马。"快点吧，梅吉，天快黑了。咱们不能让他们在这儿呆一夜，在咱们回来之前，他们也走不了。" 要在烂泥中赶大车，或驾任何车辆都是不可能的。最后，杰克和老汤姆在两匹牵引马后面用链子拴上了一张瓦楞铁皮，汤姆骑在一匹牧羊马背上牵着它们，杰克骑马走在前面，擎着一盏德罗海达最大的灯。 梅吉留在了庄园里，坐在客厅的火前。史密斯太太极力劝她吃点东西。她泪流满央地望着这姑娘默默地忍受着这个打击，既不动也不哭，前门的问环响了起来，她转身去开门，心中疑惑到底是谁竟然能穿过这片泥泞到这里来。在各个相距遥远的庄园之间荒僻的道路上，新闻传播的速度总是让人惊讶不已。 拉尔夫神父正站在廊槽下，他浑身湿漉漉的，溅满了泥浆，他穿着骑马服和油布雨衣。 "我可以进来吗，史密斯太太？" "啊，神父，神父！"她哭喊着，扑进了他伸出的双臂中。"你怎么知道的？" "克利里太太给我打了电报，我非常感激一位经理兼财产所有人的好意。我不得不离开迪·康提尼-弗契斯大主教，到这里来了。妙极了！你相信我一天得把这庆说上一百遍吗？我是飞来的。飞机在着陆的时候陷进了泥里，机头插进了地皮，所以，我还没有在地面上走，就知道它是什么样子了。天哪，多美丽的基里！我把箱子留在神父宅邸的沃蒂神父那里，从帝国饭店老板那儿讨了一匹马。他还以为我疯了呢，和我赌一瓶乔尼酒，说我根本穿不过这片烂泥呢！哦，史密斯太太，别这么哭了！亲爱的，世界不会因为一场火灾而完蛋的，不管这场火有多大！"他说道，微笑着拍了拍她那起伏不定的肩膀。"我在这里一个劲儿地解释，你却偏偏一个劲儿地不作声。千万别这么哭了。" "这么说，你是不知道了，"她抽噎着。 "什么"知道什么？怎么回事--出什么事了？ " "克利里先生和斯图尔特死了。" 他的脸顿然失色，两手推开了女管家。"梅吉在哪儿？"他大声喊道。 "小的客厅里。克利里太太还在围场上守着尸体呢。杰克和汤姆已经去接他们了。哦，神父，尽管我很虔诚，可有时候我忍不住想，上帝太残忍了！为什么他非夺去他们俩的生命不可呢？" 可是，拉尔夫神父站在这里只是为了听梅吉在哪里的。他向客厅里走去，边走边脱下了雨衣，身后留下了一串泥迹。 "梅吉！"他一边说着，一边走到她身边，在她的椅子一侧跪了下来，把她那双冷冰冰的手紧紧地抓在他那湿漉漉的手中。