For a mountain-boy, Andy was a poor shot and, therefore, the scoff of Persimmon Ridge.
“I’ve seen many a girl who could shoot as well as you, ——better,” continued Jack jeeringly. “But la! I needn’t go down there into the hollow expecting to get a deer to-day. They are all off in the woods a-smelling the powder that you have been wasting.”
Andy was pleased to change the subject. “It seems to me that the water is scuttling along tolerably fast,” he said, turning to the little window through which the stream could be seen.
It was running fast, and with a tremendous force. Logs and branches shot by, half hidden in foam. The old mill, whose wooden supports were now completely under water, trembled and throbbed with the rushing stream. As Jack looked toward the window, his cheek paled, and he sprang to the door with a frightened exclamation.
Too late! The immense bole of a fallen tree, shooting down the channel with force and velocity, struck the tottering supports of the crazy, rotting building.
It careened, and quivered in every fibre. There was a crash of falling timbers, then a mighty wrench, and two boys, clinging to the window-frame, were driving with the wreck down the river.
The old mill thundered against the submerged rocks, and at every concussion the timbers fell. It whirled around and around in eddying pools. Where the water was clear, and smooth, and deep, it shot along with great rapidity.
The clinging boys looked down upon the black current, with its sharp, treacherous, half-seen rocks and ponderous driftwood. The wild idea of plunging into the tumult and trying to swim to the bank faded as they looked. Here in the crazy building there might be a chance. In that frightful swirl there lurked only a grim certainty.
The boys were caged, as it were. The door-way was filled with the heavy debris, and the only possibility of escape was through that little window. It was so small that only one could pass through at a time, —— only one could be saved.
Jack had seen the chance from far up the stream. There was a stretch of smooth water close to the bank, on which was a low-hanging beech-tree, ——he might catch the branches.
They were approaching the spot with great rapidity. Only one could go. He himself had discovered the opportunity, ——it was his own.
Life was sweet, ——so sweet! He could not give it up; he could not now take thought for his friend. He could only hope with a frenzied eagerness that Andy had not seen the possibility of deliverance.
In another moment Andy lifted himself into the window. A whirlpool caught the wreck, and there it eddied in dizzying circles. It was not yet too late. Jack could tear the smaller, weaker boy away with on strong hand, and take the only chance of escape.
The shattered mill was dashing through the smoother waters now; the great beech-tree was hanging over their heads; an inexplicable, overpowering impulse mastered in an instant Jack’s temptation.
“Catch the branched, Andy!” he cried wildly.
His friend was gone, and he was whirling off alone on those cruel, frantic waters. In the midst of the torrent he was going down, and down, and down the mountain. Now and then he had a fleeting glimpse of the distant ranges.
The familiar sight, the recollection of his home, brought sudden tears to his eyes. On, on, in this mad rush he went down to the bitterness of death.
Even with this terrible fact before him, he did not reproach himself with his costly generosity. It was strange to him that he did not regret it; perhaps, like that mountain in its sunset glory, he had suddenly taken up life on a higher level.
The sunset splendor was fading. The whole landscape seemed full of reeling black shadows, ——and yet it was not night. The roar of the torrent was growing faint upon his ear, and yet its speed was not checked. Soon all was dark and all was still, and the world slipped from his grasp.
“They tell me that Jack Dunn was nearly drown when the men fished him out of the pond at the sawmill down in the valley,” said Andy Bailey, recounting the incident to the fireside circle at his own home. “They saw the rotten old timbers come floating into the pond, and then they saw something like a person hanging to them.
“The water was smooth, there, so they had no trouble in swimming out to him. They couldn’t bring him to, though, at first. They said in a little more he would have been gone. Now “pridefully” if he had had the grit to catch a tree and pull out, as I did, he wouldn’t have been in such a danger.”
Andy never knew the sacrifice that his friend had made. Jack never told him. Applause is at best a slight thing. A great action is nobler than the monument that commemorates it; and when a man gives himself into the control of a generous impulse, thenceforward he takes up life on a higher level.
作为一个山里的孩子，安迪枪法很差，因此也成了柿子岭的一个笑柄。
“我看到过不少女孩的枪法和你一样准，或许还更准。”杰克继续嘲弄着他，“不过也罢，今天我也不指望去下面的山谷逮到一只鹿了，它们闻到你浪费的火药的味道，全都逃进树林了。”
安迪想转换个话题，“在我看来，这水真是流得相当的快啊。”他说着打开了一扇能看到河流的小窗。
河流真是在飞奔着，携带着巨大的力量。原木和枝条被水冲击，有一半已被吞没在了泡沫之中。老磨坊的木头支架已经完全淹没在水中，随着河水的冲击而摇摇晃晃。杰克朝窗口看了一眼，吓得脸都白了，他害怕地惊叫着向门口窜去。
太晚了！一根掉落在水中的巨大树干带着力量和速度顺着水道冲了下来，撞在了破旧小屋那摇摇欲坠的底架上。
小屋倾倒了，每根木条都在颤抖。木头“噼里啪啦”地掉落下来，随后又是一阵强力的扭曲，接着两个紧紧抓住窗框的孩子就随着屋子的残骸一起被冲入河中。
撞上暗礁时，老磨坊会发出惊雷般的巨响，每次撞击都有木条掉落下来。在漩涡中，它会不停地打转。水流深且清澈，无比顺畅，带着小屋以极快的速度向前奔去。
紧贴在屋子里的孩子们向下望着黑色的河流，里面充满了若隐若现的危险的尖利岩石，还有漂浮着的巨大浮木，他们打消了跳进涡流并试图游到岸边的荒唐念头。待在这个疯狂的屋子里面或许还有生机，而跳入吓人的漩涡中肯定只有悲惨的结局。
就这样，孩子们被困在屋中。门口已经被大量残骸碎片堵上了，那扇小窗户是唯一逃脱的希望。但它太小了，一次只能允许一个人通过。只有一个人能够得救。
杰克在远远的上游处看到了一个机会。一处河岸边有一股奔腾的水流，水面上低垂着一棵山毛榉，他可以抓住那棵树。
他们正以飞快的速度接近那个地点。只有一个人能够出去。是他发现了这个机会，是他自己。
生命是美好的，太美好了！他不能放弃它；他现在不能替朋友着想，只
能热切地希望安迪没有发现这个获救的机会。
那一刻，安迪正向窗上爬去。屋子的残骸遇上了一个漩涡打起了转转，让人头晕目眩。这还不算晚，杰克可以用强有力的手把那矮小瘦弱的男孩拉下来，得到这仅有的逃脱机会。
被撞得粉碎的磨坊正在那片较为平静的水面上飞速前进，那颗绝妙的山毛榉已经悬在了他们的头上。突然，一种难以名状而又不可阻挡的冲动一下子压倒了杰克的求生欲望。
“安迪，抓住那根树枝！”他大声叫道。他的朋友逃了出去，而他独自在发狂的水流中翻腾着。他在洪流之中向山下冲去，不断向下、向下，不时能短暂地瞥见远处的景象。那熟悉的景象以及自家的回忆一下子让他满眼泪水。近了，更近了。在这发狂的奔流中，他正冲向那令人痛苦的死亡。
但即使面对这个可怕的现实，他依然没有为那个代价昂贵的慷慨而责备自己。他感到奇怪，自己并没有为此感到后悔。也许就像那大山在落日中映出一片光辉那样，他的生命在那刻得到了升华。
落日的光芒褪去了，所有的景象笼罩在一片黑影之中，现在还没到晚上。咆哮着的奔流变得震耳欲聋，而它的速度依然没有得到控制。不一会儿，一切都变成了黑色的死寂，他失去了对这个世界的所有意识。
“他们告诉我，当人们在山谷下锯木厂的池塘中把杰克·邓恩捞上来时，他几乎都快淹死了。”安迪·贝利在家中的火炉边描述着发生的事情，“他们看到了水池中漂浮着的老朽木料，然后发现了上面好像挂着一个人。
“水面比较平静，所以他们毫不费力地游过去把他带了出来。但他们一开始没能让他恢复意识，并说他撑不了多久了。”安迪自豪地说：“如果他像我那样勇敢地抓住大树把自己拉出来，本不会遭遇如此险境。”
安迪一直不知道他朋友所做出的牺牲，杰克从来没有告诉过他。掌声只是微不足道之物，一个伟大的举动要比纪念这一行为而建立的丰碑更为高贵。一个人会把自己交由慷慨的冲动来控制，从那刻起他的生命得到了升华。
Tip：戳左下角“原文链接”可购买常青藤版《美国语文》全书哟(* ￣3)(ε￣ *)
联系客服
