osc.am1.seventhson-第25部分

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　　The　woman　was　right　　the　brooks　were　bridged。　Even　this；　though；　wasn't　a　good　sign。　To　bridge　a　river　was　a　necessity；　to　bridge　a　broad　stream；　a　kindness　to　travelers。　But　why　did　they　build　such　elaborate　bridges　over　brooks　so　narrow　that　even　a　man　as　old　as　Taleswapper　could　leap　them　without　wetting　a　foot？　The　bridges　were　sturdy；　anchored　into　the　earth　far　to　either　side　of　the　stream；　and　both　had　roofs；　well　thatched。　People　pay　money　to　stay　in　inns　that　aren't　as　tight　and　dry　as　these　bridges；　thought　Taleswapper。
　　Surely　this　meant　that　the　people　at　the　end　of　the　track　were　at　least　as　strange　as　those　he　had　met　so　far。　Surely　he　ought　to　turn　away。　Prudence　demanded　that　he　leave。
　　But　prudence　was　not　strong　in　Taleswapper's　character。　It　was　as　Old　Ben　told　him；　years　before。　〃You'll　go　into　the　mouth　of　hell　someday；　Bill；　just　to　find　out　why　the　devil　has　such　bad　teeth。〃　There　was　a　reason　for　the　bridges；　and　Taleswapper　sensed　that　it　would　mean　a　story　worth　remembering　in　his　book。
　　It　was　only　a　mile；　after　all。　Just　when　it　seemed　the　track　was　about　to　wander　into　impenetrable　wood；　it　took　a　sharp　northward　turn　and　opened　into　as　pretty　a　holding　as　Taleswapper　had　seen；　even　in　the　placid　settled　lands　of　New　Orange　and　Pennsylvania。　The　house　was　large　and　fine；　with　shaped　logs；　to　show　that　they　meant　it　to　last；　and　there　were　barns　and　sheds　and　pens　and　coops　that　made　it　almost　a　village　in　itself。　A　wisp　of　smoke　rising　a　half　mile　on　up　the　track　told　him　that　his　guess　wasn't　all　wrong。　There　was　another　household　nearby；　sharing　the　road；　which　meant　it　was　probably　kin。　Married　children；　no　doubt；　and　all　farming　together；　for　the　better　prosperity　of　all。　That　was　a　good　thing；　Taleswapper　knew；　when　brothers　could　grow　up　liking　each　other　well　enough　to　plow　each　other's　fields。
　　Taleswapper　always　headed　for　the　house　　best　to　announce　himself　at　once；　rather　than　skulking　about　and　being　taken　for　a　robber。　Yet　this　time；　when　he　meant　to　walk　toward　the　house；　he　felt　himself　bee　stupid　all　at　once；　unable　to　remember　what　it　was　he　was　about　to　do。　It　was　a　warding　so　powerful　that　he　did　not　realize　he　had　been　pushed　away　until　he　was　halfway　down　the　hill　toward　a　stone　building　beside　a　brook。　He　stopped　abruptly；　frightened；　for　no　one　had　power　enough；　he　thought；　to　back　him　off　without　him　realizing　what　was　happening。　This　place　was　as　strange　as　the　other　two；　and　he　wanted　no　part　of　it。
　　Yet　as　he　tried　to　turn　back　the　way　he　had　e；　the　same　thing　happened　again。　He　found　himself　going　down　the　hill　toward　the　stone…walled　building。
　　Again　he　stopped；　and　this　time　muttered；　〃Whoever　you　are；　and　whatever　you　want；　I'll　go　of　my　own　free　will　or　I'll　not　go　at　all。〃
　　All　at　once　it　was　like　a　breeze　behind　him；　pushing　him　toward　the　building。　But　he　knew　he　could　go　back　if　he　wanted。　Against　the　breeze；　yes；　but　he　could　do　it。　That　eased　his　mind　considerably。　Whatever　constraints　had　been　placed　upon　him；　they　were　not　meant　to　enslave　him。　And　that；　he　knew；　was　one　of　the　marks　of　a　goodly　spell　　not　the　hidden　chains　of　a　tormentor。
　　The　path　rounded　to　the　left　a　bit；　along　the　brook；　and　now　he　could　see　that　the　building　was　a　mill；　for　it　had　a　millrace　and　the　frame　of　a　tall　wheel　standing　where　the　water　would　flow。　But　no　water　flowed　in　the　race　today；　and　as　he　came　close　enough　to　see　through　the　large　barn…size　door；　he　discovered　why。　It　wasn't　just　closed　up　for　the　winter。　It　had　never　been　used　as　a　mill。　The　gears　were　in　place；　but　the　great　round　millstone　wasn't　there。　Just　a　foundation　of　rammed　cobbles；　level　and　ready　and　waiting。
　　Waiting　a　long　time。　This　construction　was　at　least　five　years　old；　from　the　vines　and　the　mosses　on　the　building。　It　had　been　a　lot　of　work　to　build　this　millhouse；　and　yet　it　was　being　used　as　a　mon　haybarn。
　　Just　inside　the　large　door；　a　wagon　was　rocking　back　and　forth　as　two　boys　grappled　together　atop　a　half…load　of　hay。　It　was　a　friendly　bout；　the　boys　were　obviously　brothers；　the　one　about　twelve　years　old；　the　other　perhaps　nine；　and　the　only　reason　the　young　one　wasn't　thrown　off　the　wagon　and　out　the　door　was　because　the　older　boy　couldn't　keep　himself　from　laughing。　They　didn't　notice　Taleswapper；　of　course。
　　They　also　didn't　notice　the　man　standing　at　the　edge　of　the　loft；　pitchfork　in　hand；　looking　down　at　them。　Taleswapper　thought　at　first　that　the　man　was　watching　in　pride；　like　a　father。　Then　he　came　close　enough　to　see　how　he　held　the　fork。　Like　a　javelin；　ready　to　cast。　For　a　single　moment；　Taleswapper　saw　in　his　mind's　eye　just　what　would　happen　　the　fork　thrown；　burying　itself　in　the　flesh　of　one　of　the　boys；　surely　killing　him；　if　not　immediately；　then　soon　enough；　with　gangrene　or　belly　bleeding。　It　was　murder　that　Taleswapper　saw。
　　〃No！〃　he　shouted。　He　ran　through　the　doorway；　fetching　up　alongside　the　wagon；　looking　up　at　the　man　in　the　loft。
　　The　man　plunged　the　pitchfork　into　the　hay　beside　him　and　heaved　the　hay　over　the　edge　onto　the　wagon；　half…burying　the　two　boys。　〃I　brought　you　here　to　work；　you　two　bearcubs；　not　to　tie　each　other　in　knots。〃　The　man　was　smiling；　teasing。　He　winked　at　Taleswapper。　Just　as　if　there　hadn't　been　death　in　his　eyes　a　moment　before。
　　〃Howdy；　young　feller；〃　said　the　man。
　　〃Not　so　young；〃　said　Taleswapper。　He　doffed　his　hat；　letting　his　bare　pate　give　away　his　age。
　　The　boys　dug　themselves　out　of　the　hay。　〃What　were　you　shouting　at；　Mister？〃　asked　the　younger　one。
　　〃I　was　afraid　someone　might　e　to　harm；〃　said　Taleswapper。
　　〃Oh；　we　wrassle　like　that　all　the　time；〃　said　the　older　boy。　〃Put　her　there；　friend。　My　name's　Alvin；　same　as　my　pa。〃　The　boy's　grin　was　contagious。　Scared　as　he'd　been；　with　so　much　dark　dealing　going　on　today；　Taleswapper　had　no　choice　but　to　smile　back　and　take　the　proffered　hand。　Alvin　Junior　had　a　handshake　like　a　grown　man；　he　was　that　strong。　Taleswapper　mented　on　it。
　　〃Oh；　he　gave　you　his　fish　hand。　When　he　gets　to　wringing　and　wrenching　on　you；　he　like　to　pops　your　palm　like　a　razzleberry。〃　The　younger　boy　shook　hands；　too。
　　〃I'm　seven　years　old；　and　Al　Junior；　he's　ten。〃　Younger　than　they　looked。　They　both　had　that　nasty　bitter　body　stench　that　young　boys　get　when　they've　been　playing　hard。　But　Taleswapper　never　minded　that。　It　was　the　father　who　puzzled　him。　Was　it　just　a　fancy　in　his　own　mind；　that　Taleswapper　thought　he　meant　to　kill　the　boys？　What　man　could　take　a　murderous　hand　to　boys　as　sweet　and　fine　as　these？
　　The　man　had　left　the　pitchfork　in　the　loft；　clambered　down　the　ladder；　and　now　strode　toward　Taleswapper　with　his　arms　out　as　if　to　hug　him。　〃Wele　here；　stranger；〃　said　the　man。　〃I'm　Alvin　Miller；　and　these　are　my　two　youngest　sons；　Alvin　Junior　and　Calvin。〃
　　〃Cally；〃　corrected　the　younger　boy。
　　〃He　doesn't　like　the　way　our　names　rhyme；〃　said　Alvin　Junior。　〃Alvin　and　Calvin。　See；　they　named　him　like　me　hoping　he'd　grow　up　to　be　as　fine　a　specimen　of　manhood　as　I　am。　Too　bad　it　ain't　working。〃
　　Calvin　gave　him　a　shove　of　mock　anger。　〃Near　as　I　can　tell；　he　was　the　first　try；　and　when　I　came　along　they　finally　got　it　right！〃
　　〃Mostly　we　call　thern　Al　and　Cally；〃　said　the　father。
　　〃Mostly　you　call　us　'shutup'　and　'get　over　here；'〃　said　Cally。
　　Al　Junior　gave　him　a　whack　on　the　shoulder　and　sent　him　sprawling　in　the　dirt。　Whereupon　his　father　placed　a　boot　on　his　backside　and　sent　him　head　over　heels　out　the　door。　All　in　fun。　Nobody　was　hurt。　How　could　I　have　thought　there　was　murder　going　on　here？
　　〃You　e　with　a　message？　A　letter？〃　asked　Alvin　Miller。　Now；　that　the　boys　were　outside；　yelling　at　each　other　across　the　meadow；　the　grown　men　could　get　a　word　in。
　　〃Sorry；〃　said　Taleswapper。　〃Just　a　traveler。　A　young　lady　in　town　said　I　might　find　a　place　to　sleep　up　here。　In　exchange　for　whatever　good　hard　work　you　might　have　for　my　arms。〃
　　Alvin　Miller　grinned。　〃Let　me　see　how　much　work　those　arms　can　do。〃　He　thrust　out　an　arm；　but　it　wasn't　to　shake　hands。　He　gripped　Taleswapper　by　the　forearm　and　braced　his　right　foot　against　Taleswapper's　right　foot。　〃Think　you　can　throw　me？〃　asked　Alvin　Mill