osc.am2.redprophet-第46部分

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　　〃How　many　bones　you　want　me　to　break？〃　asked　Fink。
　　〃All　of　them。〃
　　Fink　picked　Measure　up　by　an　arm　and　a　leg　and　practically　tossed　him　up　over　his　shoulders。　Despite　the　pain；　Measure　tried　to　lay　in　a　punch　or　two；　but　Fink　jerked　down　on　his　arm；　breaking　it　right　at　the　elbow。
　　Measure　was　barely　conscious　the　rest　of　the　way　outside。　He　heard　somebody　in　the　distance　call；　〃Who　you　got　there！〃
　　Fink　yelled　back；　〃Caught　us　a　Red　spy；　sneaking　around！〃
　　The　voice　from　the　distance　sounded　familiar　to　Measure；　but　he　couldn't　concentrate　well　enough　to　remember　who　it　was。　〃Tear　him　apart！〃　he　shouted。
　　Fink　didn't　answer。　He　didn't　set　Measure　down　to　open　the　root　cellar　doors；　even　though　they　were　low　and　at　a　slant；　so　you　had　to　reach　out　and　down；　then　pull　them　up。　Fink　just　hooked　the　toe　of　his　boot　under　the　door　and　flipped　it　up。　It　moved　so　fast　it　banged　on　the　ground　and　rebounded　so　as　to　nearly　close　again；　but　by　then　Fink　was　already　stepping　into　the　cellar；　the　door　hit　his　thigh　and　bounced　right　open　again。　Measure　just　heard　it　as　banging　and　a　little　jostling；　which　made　his　leg　and　his　elbow　hurt　all　the　more。　Why　haven't　I　fainted　yet；　he　wondered。　Now's　as　good　a　time　as　any。
　　But　he　never　did　faint。　Both　legs　broken　above　and　below　the　knee；　his　fingers　bent　back　and　disjointed；　his　hands　crushed；　his　arms　broken　above　and　below　the　elbows　　through　all　that　be　stayed　awake；　though　the　pain　eventually　got　kind　of　far　away；　more　like　the　memory　of　pain　than　pain　itself。　If　you　hear　one　cymbal　crash；　it's　loud；　two　or　three　cymbal　crashes　at　once　are　louder　yet。　But　along　about　the　twentieth　cymbal　crash；　it　don't　get　louder；　you　just　get　deafer；　and　you　hardly　hear　any　of　them　at　all。　That's　how　it　was　for　Measure。
　　There　was　a　sound　of　cheering　in　the　distance。
　　Somebody　ran　up。　〃Governor　says　finish　up　real　quick；　he　wants　you　right　away。〃
　　〃I'll　be　done　in　a　minute；〃　said　Fink。　〃Except　for　the　burning。〃
　　〃Save　it　till　later；〃　the　man　said。　〃Hurry！〃
　　Fink　dropped　Measure；　then　stomped　his　chest　till　his　ribs　were　pretty　much　broke；　bending　in　and　out　any　which　way。　Then　he　picked　him　up　by　the　arm　and　the　hair　and　bit　off　his　ear。　Measure　felt　it　tear　away　with　one　last　desperate　surge　of　anger。　Then　Fink　gave　his　head　a　sharp　twist。　Measure　heard　his　own　neck　snap。　Fink　flung　him　onto　the　potatoes。　He　rolled　down　the　backside　and　into　the　hole　he　dug。　Only　when　his　face　was　in　the　dirt　did　the　pain　stop　and　darkness　e。
　　Fink　flipped　the　doors　shut　with　his　foot；　slid　the　bar　into　place；　and　headed　back　to　the　house。　The　cheering　out　front　was　louder。　Harrison　met　him　ing　out　of　his　office。　〃Never　mind　about　that　now；〃　Harrison　said。　〃There's　no　need　for　a　corpse　to　keep　things　hot　around　here。　The　cannon　just　got　here；　and　we'll　attack　in　the　morning。〃
　　Harrison　rushed　out　to　the　front　porch；　and　Mike　Fink　followed　him。　Cannon？　What　did　cannons　have　to　do　with　needing　or　not　needing　a　corpse？　What　did　he　think　Mike　was；　an　assassin？　Killing　Hooch　was　one　thing；　and　killing　a　man　in　a　fair　fight　was　something　else。　But　killing　a　young　man　with　a　gag　in　his　mouth；　that　was　altogether　different。　When　he　bit　off　that　ear　it　just　didn't　feel　right。　It　wasn't　no　trophy　of　a　fair　fight。　Took　the　heart　right　out　of　him。　He　didn't　even　bother　biting　off　the　other　ear。
　　Mike　stood　there　beside　Harrison；　watching　the　horses　pull　the　four　cannon　right　along；　brisk　as　you　please。　He　knew　how　Harrison　would　use　the　guns；　he'd　heard　him　planning　it。　Two　here；　two　there；　so　they　rake　the　whole　Red　city　from　both　sides。　Grape　and　canister；　to　rip　and　tear　the　bodies　of　the　Reds；　women　and　children　right　along　with　the　men。
　　It　ain't　my　kind　of　a　fight；　thought　Mike。　Like　that　man　out　back。　No　challenge　at　all；　like　stomping　baby　frogs。　You　can　do　it；　and　not　think　twice。　But　you　don't　pick　up　the　dead　frogs；　stuff　them；　and　hang　them　on　the　wall；　you　just　don't　do　that。
　　It　ain't　my　kind　of　fight。
　　
　　
　　Chapter　13　　Eight…Face　Mound
　　
　　There　was　a　different　feel　to　the　land　around　Licking　River。　Alvin　didn't　notice　right　off；　mostly　cause　he　was　running　with　his　wick　trimmed；　so　to　speak。　Didn't　notice　much　at　all。　It　was　one　long　dream　as　he　ran。　But　as　Ta…Kumsaw　led　him　into　the　Land　of　Flints；　there　was　a　change　in　the　dream。　All　around　him；　no　matter　what　he　saw　in　his　dream；　there　was　little　sparks　of　deep…black　fire。　Not　like　the　nothingness　that　always　lurked　at　the　edges　of　his　vision。　Not　like　the　deep　black　that　sucked　light　into　itself　and　never　let　it　go。　No；　this　black　shone；　it　gave　off　sparks。
　　And　when　they　stopped　running；　and　Alvin　came　to　hisself　again；　those　black　fires　may　have　faded　just　a　bit　but　they　were　still　there。　Without　so　much　as　thinking；　Alvin　walked　toward　one；　a　black　blaze　in　a　sea　of　green；　reached　down　and　picked　it　up。　A　flint。　A　good　big　one。
　　〃A　twenty…arrow　flint；〃　said　Ta…Kumsaw。
　　〃It　shines　black　and　burns　cold；〃　said　Alvin。
　　Ta…Kumsaw　nodded。　〃You　want　to　be　a　Red　boy？　Then　make　arrowheads　with　me。〃
　　Alvin　caught　on　quick。　He　had　worked　with　stone　before。　When　he　cut　a　millstone；　he　wanted　smooth；　flat　surfaces。　With　flint；　it　was　the　edge；　not　the　face　that　counted。　His　first　two　arrowheads　were　clumsy；　but　then　he　was　able　to　feel　his　way　into　the　stone　and　find　the　natural　creases　and　folds；　and　then　break　them　apart。　For　his　fourth　arrowhead；　he　didn't　chip　at　all。　Just　used　his　fingers　and　gently　pulled　the　arrowhead　away　from　the　flint。
　　Ta…Kumsaw's　face　showed　no　expression。　That's　what　most　White　folks　thought　he　looked　like　all　the　time。　They　thought　Red　men；　and　most　especially　Ta…Kumsaw；　never　felt　nothing　cause　they　never　let　nobody　see　their　feelings。　Alvin　had　seen　him　laugh；　though；　and　cry；　and　all　the　other　faces　that　a　man　can　show。　So　he　knowed　that　when　Ta…Kumsaw　showed　nothing　on　his　face；　that　meant　he　was　feeling　a　whole　lot　of　things。
　　〃I　worked　with　stone　a　lot　before；〃　said　Alvin。　He　felt　like　he　was　sort　of　apologizing。
　　〃Flint　isn't　stone；〃　said　Ta…Kumsaw。　〃Pebbles　in　the　river；　boulders；　those　are　stone。　This　is　living　rock；　rock　with　fire　in　it；　the　hard　earth　that　the　land　gives　to　us　freely。　Not　hewn　out　and　tortured　the　way　White　men　do　with　iron。〃　He　held　up　Alvin's　fourth　arrowhead；　the　one　he　cajoled　out　of　the　flint　with　his　fingers。　〃Steel　can　never　have　an　edge　this　sharp。〃
　　〃It's　just　about　as　perfect　an　edge　as　I　ever　saw；〃　said　Al。
　　〃No　chip　marks；〃　said　Ta…Kumsaw。　〃No　pressing。　A　Red　man　would　see　this　flint　and　say；　The　land　grew　the　flint　this　way。〃
　　〃But　you　know　better；〃　said　Al。　〃You　know　it's　just　a　knack　I　got。〃
　　〃A　knack　bends　the　land；〃　said　Ta…Kumsaw。　〃Like　a　snag　in　the　river　churns　the　water　on　the　river's　face。　So　it　is　with　the　land　when　a　White　uses　his　knack。　Not　you。〃
　　Alvin　puzzled　on　that　for　a　minute。　〃You　mean　you　can　see　where　other　folks　did　their　doodlebug　or　beseeching　or　hex　or　charm？〃
　　〃Like　the　bad　stink　when　a　sick　man　loosens　his　bowel；〃　said　Ta…Kumsaw。　〃But　you　　what　you　do　is　clean。　Like　part　of　the　land。　I　thought　I　would　teach　you　how　to　be　Red。　Instead　the　land　gives　you　arrowheads　like　a　gift。〃
　　Again；　Alvin　felt　like　apologizing。　It　seemed　to　make　Ta…Kumsaw　angry；　that　he　could　do　the　things　he　did。　〃It　ain't　like　I　asked　anybody　for　this；〃　he　said。　〃I　was　just　the　seventh　son　of　a　seventh　son；　and　the　thirteenth　child。〃
　　〃These　numbers　　seven；　thirteen　　you　Whites　care　about　them；　but　they're　nothing　in　the　land。　The　land　has　true　numbers。　One；　two；　three；　four；　five；　six　　these　numbers　you　can　find　when　you　stand　in　the　forest　and　look　around　you。　Where　is　seven？　Where　is　thirteen？〃
　　〃Maybe　that's　why　they're　so　strong；〃　said　Alvin。　〃'Maybe　cause　they　ain't　natural。〃
　　〃Then　why　does　the　land　love　this　unnatural　thing　that　you　do？〃
　　〃I　don't　know；　Ta…Kumsaw。　I'm　only　ten　going　on　eleven。〃
　　Ta…Kumsaw　laughed。　〃Ten？　Eleven？　Very　weak　numbers。〃
　　They　spent　the　night　there；　in　the　borders　of　the　Land　of　Flints。　Ta…Kumsaw　told　Alvin　the　story　of　that　place；　how　it　was　the　best　flint　country　in　the　whole　land。　No　matter　how　many　flints　the　Reds　came　and　took　away；　more　always　came　out　of　the　ground；　just　lying　there　to　get　picked　up。　In　years　gone　by；　every　now　and　then　some　tribe　would　try　to　own　the　place。　They'd　bring　their　warriors　and　kill　anyone　else　who　came　for　flints。　That　way　they　figured　they'd　have　arrows　and　the　other　tribes　wouldn't　have　any。　But　it　never　worked　right。　Cause　as　soon　as　that　tribe　won　its　battles　and　held　the　land；　the　flints　just　plain　disappeared。　Not　a　one。　Members　of　that　tribe　would　search　and　search；　and　never　find　a　thing。　They'd　go　away；　and　another　tribe　would　e　in；　and　there'd　be　flints　again；　as　many　as　ever。
　　〃It　belongs　to　everybody；　this　place。　All　Reds　are　at　peace　here。　No　killing；　no　war；　no　quarrels　　or　the　tribe　has　no　flints。〃
　　〃I　wish　the　whole　world　was　a　place　like　that；〃　said　Alvin。
　　〃Listen　to　my　brother　long　enough；　White　boy；　and　you'll　start　to　think　it　is。　No；　no；　don't　explain　to　me。　Don't　defend　him。　He　takes　his　road；　I　take　mine。　I　think　his　way　will　kill　mo