the vision spendid(美景)-第2章
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David。〃
The former Confederate asked questions to piece out his patchwork
information。 He knew that Philip Farnum had come out of the war with a
constitution weakened by the hardships of the service。 Rumors had drifted
to him that the taste for liquor acquired in camp as an antidote for sickness
had grown upon his comrade and finally overcome him。 From Jeff he
learned that after his father's death the widow had sold her mortgaged
place and moved to the Pacific Coast。 She had invested the few hundreds
left her in some river…bottom lots at Verden and had later discovered that
an unscrupulous real estate dealer had unloaded upon her worthless
property。 The patched and threadbare clothes of the boy told him that from
a worldly point of view the affairs of the Farnums were at ebb tide。
〃Did 。 。 。 did you know father very well？〃 Jeff asked tremulously。
Chunn looked down at the thin dark face of the boy walking beside
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him and was moved to lay a hand on his shoulder。 He understood the ache
in that little heart to hear about the father who was a hero to him。 Jeff was
of no importance in the alien world about him。 The Captain guessed from
the little scene he had witnessed that the lad trod a friendless； stormy path。
He divined； too； that the hungry soul was fed from within by dreams and
memories。
So Lucius Chunn talked。 He told about the slender； soldierly officer in
gray who had given himself so freely to serve his men； of the time he had
caught pneumonia by lending his blanket to a sick boy； of the day he had
led the charge at Battle Creek and received the wound which pained him
so greatly to the hour of his death。 And Jeff drank his words in like a
charmed thing。 He visualized it all； the bitter nights in camp； the long wet
marches； the trumpet call to battle。 It was this last that his imagination
seized upon most eagerly。 He saw the silent massing of troops； the stealthy
advance through the woods； and he heard the blood…curdling rebel yell as
the line swept forward from cover like a tidal wave； with his father at its
head。
Captain Chunn was puzzled at the coldness with which Mr。 Webber
listened to his explanation of what had taken place。 The school principal
fell back doggedly upon one fact。 It would not have happened if Jeff had
not been playing truant。 Therefore he was to blame for what had occurred。
Nothing would be done； of course； without a thorough investigation。
The Captain was not satisfied； but he did not quite see what more he
could do。
〃The boy is a son of an old comrade of mine。 We were in the war
together。 So of course I have to stand by Jeff；〃 he pleaded with a smile。
〃You were in the rebel army？〃 The words slipped out before the
schoolmaster could stop them。
〃In the Confederate army；〃 Chunn corrected quietly。
Webber flushed at the rebuke。 〃That is what I meant to say。〃
〃I leave to…morrow for Alaska。 It would be pleasant to know before I
go that Jeff is out of his trouble。〃
〃I'm afraid Jeff always will be in trouble。 He is a most insubordinate
boy；〃 the principal answered coldly。
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〃Are you sure you quite understand him？〃
〃He is not difficult to understand。〃 Webber； resenting the interference
of the Southerner as an intrusion； disposed of the matter in a sentence。 〃I'll
look into this matter carefully； Mr。 Chunn。〃
Webber called immediately at the office of Edward B。 Merrill；
president of the tramway company and of the First National Bank。 It
happened that the vice…president of the bank was a school director； also
that the funds of the district were kept in the First National。 The
schoolteacher did not admit that he had come to ingratiate himself with the
powers that ruled his future； but he was naturally pleased to come in direct
touch with such a man as Merrill。
The financier was urbane and spent nearly half an hour of his valuable
time with the principal。 When the latter rose to go they shook hands。 The
two understood each other thoroughly。
〃You may depend upon me to do my duty； Mr。 Merrill； painful though
such a course may be to me。〃
〃I am very glad to have met you； Mr。 Webber。 It is a source of
satisfaction to me that our educational system is in the care of men of your
stamp。 I leave this matter with confidence entirely in your hands。 Do what
you think best。〃
His confidence was justified。 After school opened next morning Jeff
was called up and publicly thrashed for playing truant。 As a prelude to the
corporal punishment the principal delivered a lecture。 He alluded to the
details of the fight gravely； with selective discrimination； giving young
Farnum to understand that he had reached the end of his rope。 If any more
such brutal affairs were reported to him he would be punished severely。
The boy took the flogging in silence。 He had learned to set his teeth
and take punishment without whimpering。 From the hardest whipping
Webber had ever given he went to his seat with a white； set face that stared
straight in front of him。 Young as he was； he knew it had not been fair and
his outraged soul cried out at the injustice of it。 The principal had seized
upon the truancy as an excuse to let him escape from an investigation of
the cause of the fight。 Ned Merrill got off because his father was a rich
man and powerful in the city。 He； Jeff； was whipped because he was an
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outcast and had dared lift his hand against one of his betters。
And there was no redress。 It was simply the way of the world。
Jeff and his mother were down that afternoon to see their new friend
off in the _City of Skook。_ Captain Chunn found a chance to draw the boy
aside for a question。
〃Is it all right with Mr。 Webber？ What did he do？〃
〃Oh； he gave me a jawing；〃 the boy answered。
The little man nodded。 〃I reckoned that was what he would do。 Be a
good boy； Jeff。 I never knew a man more honorable than your father。 Run
straight； son。〃
〃Yes； sir；〃 the lad promised； a lump in his throat。
It was more than ten years before he saw Captain Chunn again。
PART 2
As an urchin Jeff had taken things as they came without understanding
causes。 Thoughts had come to him in flashes； without any orderly
sequence； often illogically。 As a gangling boy he still took for granted the
hard knocks of a world he did not attempt to synthesize。
Even his mother looked upon him as 〃queer。〃 She worried plaintively
because he was so careless about his clothes and because his fondness for
the outdoors sometimes led him to play truant。 Constantly she set before
him as a model his cousin； James； who was a good…looking boy； polite；
always well dressed； with a shrewd idea of how to get along easily。
〃Why can't you be like Cousin James？ He isn't always in trouble；〃 she
would urge in her tired way。
It was quite true that the younger cousin was more of a general
favorite than harum…scarum Jeff； but the mother might as well have asked
her boy to be like Socrates。 It was not that he could not learn or that he did
not want to study。 He simply did not fit into the school groove。 Its routine
of work and discipline； its tendency to stifle individuality； to run all
children through the same hopper like grist through a mill； put a clamp
upon his spirits and his imagination。 Even thus early he was a rebel。
Jeff scrambled up through the grades in haphazard fashion until he
reached the seventh。 Here his teacher made a discovery。 She was a faded
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little woman of fifty； but she had that loving insight to which all children
respond。 Under her guidance for one year the boy blossomed。 His odd
literary fancy for Don Quixote； for Scott's poems and romances she
encouraged； quietly eliminating the dime novels he had read
indiscriminately with these。 She broke through the shell of his shyness to
find out that his diffidence was not sulkiness nor his independence
impudence。
The boy was a dreamer。 He lived largely in a world of his own； where
Quentin Durward and Philip Farnum and Robert E。 Lee were enshrined as
heroes。 From it he would emerge all hot for action； for adventure。 Into his
games then he would throw a poetic imagination that transfigured them。
Outwardly he lived merely in that boys' world made to his hand。 He
adopted its shibboleths； fought when he must； went through the annual
routine of marbles； tops； kites； hop scotch； and baseball。 From his fellows
he guarded jealously the knowledge of even the existence of his secret
world of fancy。
His progress through the grades and the high school was intermittent。
Often he had to stop for months at a time to earn money for their living。 In
turn he was newsboy； bootblack； and messenger boy。 He drove a delivery
wagon for a grocer； ushered at a theater； was even a copyholder in the
proofroom of a newspaper。 Hard work kept him thin； but he was like a lath
for toughness。
Seven weeks after he was graduated from the high school his mother
died。 The day of the funeral a real estate dealer called to offer three；
hundred dollars for the lots in the river bottom bought some years earlier
by Mrs。 Farnum。
Jeff put the man off。 It was too late now to do his mother any good。
She had had to struggle to the last for the bread she ate。 He wondered why
the good things in life were so unevenly distributed。
Twice during the next week Jeff was approached with offers for his
lots。 The boy was no fool。
