osc.am1.seventhson-第41部分

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he　left　like　that；〃　she　said。
　　Measure　gave　her　a　little　half…smile　and　looked　at　Pa。　〃You　know；　don't　you；　Pa？〃
　　〃Maybe；〃　he　said。
　　Measure　explained　to　his　mother。　〃Them　knives　and　that　preacher；　they　can't　be　in　this　room　with　Al　Junior　at　the　same　time。〃
　　〃But　why　not！〃　she　said。　〃He　was　going　to　do　the　surgery！〃
　　〃Well；　he　sure　ain't　going　to　do　it　now；〃　said　Measure。
　　The　knife　and　the　bone　saw　lay　on　the　blanket。
　　〃Pa；〃　said　Measure。
　　〃Not　me；〃　said　Pa。
　　〃Ma；〃　said　Measure。
　　〃I　can't；〃　Faith　said。
　　〃Well　then；〃　said　Measure；　〃I　reckon　I　just　turned　surgeon。〃　He　looked　at　Alvin。
　　The　boy's　face　had　a　deathly　pallor　to　it　that　was　even　worse　than　the　ruddiness　of　the　fever。　But　he　managed　a　sort　of　smile；　and　whispered；　〃Reckon　so。〃
　　〃Ma；　you're　going　to　have　to　hold　back　that　flap　of　skin。〃
　　She　nodded。
　　Measure　picked　up　the　knife　and　brought　the　blade　to　rest　against　the　bottom　line。
　　〃Measure；〃　Al　Junior　whispered。
　　〃Yes；　Alvin？〃　Measure　asked。
　　〃I　can　stand　the　pain　and　hold　right　still；　iffen　you　whistle。〃
　　〃I　can't　keep　no　tune；　if　I'm　trying　to　cut　straight　at　the　same　time；〃　said　Measure。
　　〃Don't　want　no　tune；〃　said　Alvin。
　　Measure　looked　into　the　boy's　eyes　and　had　no　choice　but　to　do　as　he　asked。　It　was　Al's　leg；　after　all；　and　if　he　wanted　a　whistling　surgeon；　he'd　get　one。　Measure　took　a　deep　breath　and　started　in　whistling；　no　kind　of　tune　at　all；　just　notes。　He　put　the　knife　on　the　black　line　again　and　began　to　cut。　Shallow　at　first；　cause　he　heard　Al　take　a　gasp　of　air。
　　〃Keep　whistling；〃　Alvin　whispered。　〃Right　to　the　bone。〃
　　Measure　whistled　again；　and　this　time　he　cut　fast　and　deep。　Right　to　the　bone　in　the　middle　of　the　line。　A　deep　slit　up　both　sides。　Then　he　worked　the　knife　under　the　two　corners　and　peeled　the　skin　and　muscle　right　back。　At　first　it　bled　more　than　a　little　bit；　but　almost　right　away　the　bleeding　stopped。　Measure　figured　it　must　be　something　Alvin　did　inside　himself；　to　stop　the　bleeding　like　that。
　　〃Faith；〃　said　Pa。
　　Ma　reached　over　and　laid　her　hand　on　the　bloody　flap　of　skin。　Al　reached　out　a　trembling　hand　and　traced　a　wedge　on　the　red…streaked　bone　of　his　own　leg。　Measure　laid　down　the　knife　and　picked　up　the　saw。　It　made　an　awful；　squeaky　sound　as　he　cut。　But　Measure　just　whistled　and　sawed；　sawed　and　whistled。　And　pretty　soon　he　had　a　wedge　of　bone　in　his　hand。　It　didn't　look　no　different　from　the　rest　of　the　bone。
　　〃You　sure　that　was　the　right　place？〃　he　asked。
　　Al　nodded　slowly。
　　〃Did　I　get　it　all？〃　Measure　asked。
　　Al　sat　for　a　few　moments；　then　nodded　again。
　　〃You　want　Ma　to　sew　this　back　up？〃　Measure　asked。
　　Al　didn't　say　a　thing。
　　〃He　fainted；〃　said　Pa。
　　The　blood　started　to　flow　again；　just　a　little；　seeping　into　the　wound。　Ma　had　a　needle　and　thread　on　the　pincushion　she　wore　around　her　neck。　In　no　time　she　had　that　flap　of　skin　right　back　down；　and　she　was　stitching　away　at　it；　making　a　fine　tight　seam。
　　〃You　just　keep　on　whistling；　Measure；〃　she　said。
　　So　he　kept　right　on　whistling　and　she　kept　right　on　sewing；　till　they　had　the　wound　all　bandaged　up　and　Alvin　was　laying　back　sleeping　like　a　baby。　They　all　three　stood　up　to　go。　Pa　laid　a　hand　on　the　boy's　forehead；　as　gentle　as　you　please。
　　〃I　think　his　fever's　gone；〃　he　said。
　　Measure's　tune　got　downright　jaunty　as　they　slipped　on　out　the　door。
　　
　　
　　Chapter　Fourteen　　Chastisement
　　
　　As　soon　as　Elly　saw　him；　she　was　sweet　as　could　be；　brushing　snow　off　him；　helping　with　his　cloak；　and　never　so　much　as　whispering　a　question　of　how　it　happened。
　　Didn't　make　no　difference　how　kindly　she　might　be。
　　He　was　shamed　afore　his　own　wife；　cause　sooner　or　later　she'd　hear　the　tale　from　one　of　those　children。　Soon　enough　the　tale　would　be　all　up　and　down　the　Wobbish。　How　Armor…of…God　Weaver；　storekeeper　for　the　western　country；　future　governor；　got　throwed　right　off　a　porch　into　the　snow　by　his　old　father…in…law。　They'd　be　laughing　behind　their　hands；　all　right。　They'd　laugh　him　up　and　down。　Never　to　his　face；　of　course；　cause　there　was　hardly　a　soul　between　Lake　Canada　and　the　Noisy　River　who　didn't　owe　him　money　or　need　his　maps　to　prove　their　claims。　e　the　time　when　the　Wobbish　country　was　made　a　state；　they'd　tell　that　story　at　every　polling　place。　They　might　like　a　man　they　laughed　at；　but　they　wouldn't　respect　him；　and　they　wouldn't　vote　for　him。
　　It　was　the　death　of　his　plans　he　was　facing；　and　his　wife　just　had　too　much　of　that　Miller　family　look　about　her。　She　was　pretty　enough；　for　a　frontier　woman；　but　he　didn't　care　about　pretty　right　now。　He　didn't　care　about　sweet　nights　and　gentle　mornings。　He　didn't　care　about　her　working　alongside　him　in　the　store。　All　he　cared　about　was　shame　and　rage。
　　〃Don't　do　that。〃
　　〃You　got　to　get　that　wet　shirt　off。　How'd　you　get　snow　clear　down　your　shirt？〃
　　〃I　said　get　your　hands　off　me！〃
　　She　stepped　back；　surprised。　〃I　was　just〃
　　〃I　know　what　you　'was　just。'　Poor　little　Armor；　you　just　pat　him　like　a　little　boy　and　he'll　feel　better。〃
　　〃You　could　catch　your　death〃
　　〃Tell　that　to　your　pa！　If　I　cough　my　guts　out；　you　tell　him　what　it　means　to　throw　a　man　in　the　snow！〃
　　〃Oh　no！〃　she　cried。　〃I　can't　believe　Papa　would〃
　　〃See？　You　don't　even　believe　your　own　husband。〃
　　〃I　do　believe　you；　it　just　ain't　like　Pa〃
　　〃No　ma'am；　it's　like　the　devil　himself；　that's　what　it's　like！　That's　what　fills　that　house　of　yours　up　there！　The　spirit　of　evil！　And　when　a　body　tries　to　speak　the　words　of　God　in　that　house；　they　throw　him　fight　out　in　the　snow！〃
　　〃What　were　you　doing　up　at　the　house？〃
　　〃Trying　to　save　your　brother's　life。　He's　no　doubt　dead　by　now。〃
　　〃How　could　you　save　him？〃
　　Maybe　she　didn't　mean　to　sound　so　contemptuous。　It　didn't　matter。　He　knew　what　she　meant。　That　him　having　no　hidden　power；　there　wasn't　a　thing　he　could　do　to　help　anybody。　After　years　of　being　married；　she　still　put　her　faith　in　witchery；　just　like　her　kin。　He　hadn't　changed　her　a　bit。　〃You're　just　the　same；〃　he　said。　〃Evil's　in　you　so　deep　that　I　can't　pray　it　out　of　you；　and　I　can't　preach　it　out　of　you；　and　I　can't　love　it　out　of　you；　and　I　can't　yell　it　out　of　you！〃　When　he　said　〃pray；〃　he　shoved　her　a　little；　just　to　make　his　point。　When　he　said　〃preach；〃　he　shoved　her　harder；　and　she　stumbled　back。　When　he　said　〃love；〃　he　took　her　by　the　shoulders　and　gave　her　such　a　shake　her　hair　broke　right　out　of　the　bun　she'd　made　of　it；　and　fluttered　around　her　head。　When　he　said　〃yell；〃　he　knocked　her　back　so　far　she　stumbled　down　on　the　floor。
　　Seeing　her　falling；　even　before　she　hit　the　floor；　he　felt　such　a　shame　go　through　him；　even　worse　than　when　her　father　threw　him　in　the　snow。　A　strong　man　makes　me　feel　weak；　so　I　go　home　and　shove　around　my　wife；　what　a　big　man　that　makes　me。　Here　I　been　a　Christian　who　never　hit　or　hurt　a　man　or　woman；　and　I　knock　my　own　wife；　flesh　of　my　flesh；　right　down　on　the　floor。
　　That　was　his　thinking；　and　he　was　about　to　throw　himself　on　his　knees　and　bawl　like　a　baby　and　beg　forgiveness。　He　would've　done　it；　too；　except　that　when　she　saw　the　look　on　his　face；　all　twisted　up　with　shame　and　rage；　she　didn't　know　that　he　was　angry　at　himself；　she　just　knew　that　he　was　hurting　her；　and　so　she　did　what　e　natural　to　a　woman　who　grew　up　like　she　did。　She　moved　her　fingers　to　make　a　fending；　and　whispered　a　word　to　hold　him　back。
　　He　couldn't　fall　on　his　knees　before　her。　He　couldn't　take　one　step　toward　her。　He　couldn't　even　think　of　taking　a　step　toward　her。　Her　fending　was　so　strong　he　staggered　back；　he　headed　for　the　door；　he　opened　it　and　ran　outside　in　just　his　shirt。　Everything　he'd　been　afraid　of　came　true　today。　He　probably　lost　his　future　in　politics；　but　that　was　nothing　pared　to　this：　his　own　wife　did　witchery　in　his　own　home；　and　she　did　it　against　him；　and　he　had　no　defense　against　it。　She　was　a　witch。　She　was　a　witch。　And　his　house　was　unclean。
　　It　was　cold。　He　had　no　coat；　not　even　his　waistcoat。　His　shirt　was　already　wet；　and　now　it　clung　to　him　and　froze　him　to　the　bone。　He　had　to　get　indoors；　but　he　couldn't　bear　to　knock　on　anybody's　door。　There　was　only　one　place　he　could　go。　Up　the　hill　to　the　church。　Thrower　had　firewood　there；　so　he'd　be　warm。　And　in　the　church　he　could　pray　and　try　to　understand　why　the　Lord　didn't　help　him。　Haven't　I　served　you；　Lord？
　　
　　***
　　
　　Reverend　Thrower　opened　the　door　of　the　church　and　walked　slowly；　fearfully　inside。　He　could　not　bear　to　face　the　Visitor；　knowing　how　he　had　failed。　For　it　had　been　his　own　failure；　he　knew　that　now。　Satan　should　have　had　no　power　over　him；　to　drive　him　from　the　house　that　way。　An　ordained　minister；　acting　as　the　emissary　of　the　Lord；　following　instructions　given　to　him　by　an　angel　　Satan　should　not　have　been　able　to　thrust　him　out　of　the　house　like　that；　before　he　even　knew　what　was　happening。
　　He　stripped　off　his　cloak；　and　his　topcoat　as　well。　The　church　was　hot。　The　fire　in　the　stove　must　have　burned　longer　than　he　expected。　Or　maybe　he　felt　the　heat　of　shame。
　　It　could　not　be　that　Satan　was　stronger　than　the　Lord。　The　only　possible　explanation　was　that　Thrower　himself　was　too　weak。　It　was　his　own　faith　that　faltered。
　　Thrower　knelt　at　the　altar　and　cried　out　the　name　of　the　Lord。　〃Forgive　thou　my　unbelief！〃　he　cried。　〃I　held　the　knife；　but　Satan　stood　against　me；　and　I　had　no　strength！〃　He　recited　a　litany　of　self…excoriation；　he　rehearsed　all　his　failures　of　the　day；　until　at　last　he　was　exhausted。
　　Only　then；　with　his　eyes　sore　from　crying；　his　voice　feeble　and　hoarse；　did　he　realize　the　moment　when　his　faith　was　undermined。　It　was　when　he　stood　in　Alvin's　room；　asking　the　boy　to　confess　his　faith；　and　the　boy　scoffed　at　the　mysteries　of　God。　〃How　can　he　be　on　top　of　something　that　ain't　got　no　top？〃　Even　though　Thrower　had　rejected　the　question　as　the　result　of　ignorance　and　evil；　the　question　had　nevertheless　pierced　his　heart　and　penetrated　to　the　core　of　his　belief。　Certainties　that　had　sustained　him　most　of　his　life　were　suddenly　split　through　by　the　questions　of　an　ignorant　boy。　〃He　stole　my　faith；〃　said　Thrower。　〃I　went　into　his　roo