osc.am2.redprophet-第29部分

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　inside　and　out。
　　One　Red　babbled　something；　and　they　gave　him　Al's　shirt。　He　slashed　at　it　with　his　knife；　and　then　rubbed　it　on　Al's　bleeding　face。　Must　not　have　got　enough　blood　on　it；　because　he　took　his　knife　and　slashed　right　across　Al's　forehead。　The　blood　just　gushed　out；　and　a　second　later　the　pain　hit　Al　and　for　the　first　time　he　did　cry　out。　It　felt　like　he'd　been　laid　open　right　to　the　bone；　and　the　blood　was　running　down　in　his　eyes　so　he　couldn't　see。　Measure　yelled　for　them　to　leave　Al　alone；　but　there　wasn't　no　chance　of　that。　Everybody　knew　that　once　a　Red　started　in　to　cutting　on　you；　you　were　bound　to　end　up　dead。
　　Minute　Al　cried　out　and　the　blood　started　ing；　them　Reds　started　laughing　and　making　little　hooting　sounds。　This　bunch　was　out　for　real　trouble；　and　Al　thought　back　to　all　the　stories　he　heard。　Most　famous　one　was　probably　about　Dan　Boone；　a　Pennsylvania　man　who　tried　to　settle　in　the　Crown　Colonies　for　a　while。　That　was　back　when　the　Cherriky　were　against　the　White　man；　and　one　day　Dan　Boone's　boy　got　kidnapped。　Boone　wasn't　a　half　hour　behind　them　Reds。　It　was　like　they　were　playing　with　him。　They'd　stop　and　cut　off　parts　of　the　boy's　skin；　or　poke　out　an　eye；　something　to　cause　bad　pain　and　make　him　scream。　Boone　heard　his　boy　screaming；　and　followed；　him　and　his　neighbors；　armed　with　their　muskets　and　half…mad　with　rage。　They'd　reach　the　place　where　the　boy'd　been　tortured；　and　the　Reds　were　gone；　not　a　trace　of　a　track　in　the　wood；　and　then　there'd　e　another　scream。　Twenty　miles　they　went　that　day；　and　finally　at　nightfall　they　found　the　boy　hanging　from　three　different　trees。　They　say　Boone　never　forgot　that；　he　could　never　look　a　Red　in　the　eye　after　that　without　thinking　on　that　twenty…mile　day。
　　Al　had　that　twenty…mile　day　on　his　mind　now；　too；　hearing　them　Reds　laugh；　feeling　the　pain；　just　the　start　of　the　pain；　knowing　that　whatever　these　Reds　were　after；　they　wanted　it　to　start　with　two　dead　White　boys；　and　they　wouldn't　mind　a　little　noise　along　the　way。　Keep　still；　he　told　himself。　Keep　still。
　　They　rubbed　his　slashed…up　shirt　on　his　face；　and　Measure's　hacked　up　clothes；　too。　While　they　were　doing　that；　Al　kept　his　mind　on　other　things。　Only　time　he　ever　tried　to　heal　himself　was　that　busted　leg　of　his；　and　then　he　was　lying　down；　resting；　plenty　of　time　to　study　it　out；　to　find　his　way　to　all　those　small　places　where　there　was　broken　veins　and　heal　them　up；　knit　together　the　skin　and　bone。　This　time　he　was　a…scared　and　getting　pushed　this　way　and　that；　not　calm；　not　resting。　But　he　still　managed　to　find　the　biggest　veins　and　arteries；　make　them　close　up。　Last　time　they　wiped　his　face　ou　a　shirt；　his　forehead　didn't　gush　blood　down　to　cover　his　eyes　again。　It　was　still　bleeding；　but　just　a　trickle　now；　and　Al　tipped　his　head　up　so　the　blood　would　ooze　on　down　his　temples；　and　leave　his　eyes　clear　to　see。
　　They　hadn't　cut　Measure　yet。　He　was　looking　at　Al；　and　there　was　a　sick　look　on　Measure's　face。　Al　knew　his　brother　well　enough　to　guess　what　he　was　thinking；　about　how　Ma　and　Pa　trusted　Al　into　Measure's　keeping；　and　now　look　how　he　let　them　down。　That　was　crazy；　to　blame　himself。　They　could've　done　what　they　were　doing　now　at　any　cabin　or　house　in　the　whole　countryside；　and　weren't　nobody　could　stop　them。　If　Al　and　Measure　hadn't　been　going　off　on　a　long　trip；　they　might　still　have　been　on　this　very　road　at　this　very　time　anyhow。　But　Al　couldn't　say　nothing　like　that　to　Measure；　couldn't　do　much　except　to　smile。
　　Smile　and；　as　best　he　could；　work　on　healing　up　his　own　wound。　Making　everything　in　his　forehead　go　back　to　the　way　it　was　supposed　to　be。　He　kept　at　it；　finding　it　easier　and　easier　to　do；　while　he　watched　what　the　Reds　were　doing。
　　They　didn't　talk　much。　They　pretty　much　knew　what　to　do。　They　got　the　blood…smeared　clothes　and　tied　them　to　the　saddles。　Then　with　a　knife　one　of　them　carved　the　English　letters　for　〃Ta…Kumsaw〃　in　one　of　the　saddle　seats；　and　〃Prophet〃　in　the　other。　For　a　second　Al　was　surprised　that　he　could　write　English；　but　then　he　saw　him　checking　how　he　made　the　letters；　paring　them　to　a　paper　he　had　folded　up　in　the　waistband　of　his　loincloth。　A　paper。　Then；　while　two　of　them　held　each　horse　by　the　bridle；　another　Red　jabbed　the　horse's　flanks　with　a　knife；　little　cuts；　not　all　that　deep；　but　enough　to　make　them　crazy　with　pain；　kicking　out；　bucking；　rearing　up。　The　horses　knocked　down　the　Reds　holding　them　and　took　off；　ran　away；　heading　　as　the　Reds　knowed　they　would　　on　up　the　road　toward　home。
　　A　message；　that's　what　it　was。　These　Reds　wanted　to　be　followed。　They　wanted　a　whole　bunch　of　White　folks　to　get　their　muskets　and　horses　and　follow。　Like　Daniel　Boone　in　the　story。　Follow　the　sound　of　screaming。　Go　crazy　from　the　sound　of　their　children　dying。
　　Well　Alvin　decided　then　and　there　that；　live　or　die；　he　and　Measure　wouldn't　let　Reds　make　his　parents　hear　what　Daniel　Boone　heard。　There　wasn't　a　chance　in　the　world　of　them　getting　away。　Even　if　Al　made　the　rope　e　apart　　which　he　could　do　easy　enough　　there　wasn't　no　way　two　White　boys　could　outrun　Reds　in　the　forest。　No；　these　Reds　had　them　as　long　as　they　wanted。　But　Al　knew　ways　to　keep　them　from　doing　things　to　them。　And　it　would　be　all　right　to　do　it；　too；　to　use　his　knack；　because　it　wouldn't　just　be　for　himself。　It　would　be　for　his　brother；　and　for　his　family；　and　in　a　funny　way　he　knew　it　would　be　for　the　Reds；　too；　because　if　there　was　something　real；　if　some　White　boys　really　did　get　tortured　to　death；　then　there'd　be　a　war；　there'd　be　a　real　knock…down…drag…out　fight　between　Reds　and　Whites；　and　a　lot　of　people　on　both　sides　would　die。　As　long　as　he　didn't　kill　anybody；　then；　it　would　be　all　right　for　Al　to　use　his　knack。
　　With　the　horses　gone；　the　Reds　tied　thongs　around　Al's　and　Measure's　necks。　Then　they　pulled　on　the　thongs　to　drag　them　along。　Measure　was　a　big　man；　taller　than　any　of　the　Reds；　so　as　they　led　him　they　made　him　bend　over。　It　was　hard　for　him　to　run；　and　the　thong　was　real　tight　on　him。　Al　was　getting　pulled　along　behind　him；　so　he　could　see　how　Measure　was　being　treated；　could　hear　him　choking　a　little。　It　was　a　simple　thing　for　Al；　though；　to　get　inside　that　thong　and　stretch　it　out；　stretch　it　and　stretch　it；　so　it　was　loose　around　Measure's　neck；　and　long　enough　that　Measure　could　run　pretty　much　upright。　It　happened　slow　enough　that　the　Reds　didn't　really　notice　it。　But　Al　knew　that　they'd　notice　what　he　was　doing　soon　enough。
　　Everybody　knew　that　Reds　didn't　leave　footprints。　And　when　Reds　took　White　captives；　they　usually　carried　them；　slung　by　their　arms　and　legs　like　dressed…out　deer；　so　the　clumsy　White　folks。　wouldn't　leave　no　tracks。　These　Reds　meant　to　be　followed；　then；　cause　they　were　letting　Al　and　Measure　leave　tracks　and　traces　every　step　they　took。
　　But　they　didn't　mean　it　to　be　too　easy　to　find　them。　After　they'd　gone　forever；　it　felt　like　　a　couple　of　hours　at　least　　they　came　to　a　brook　and　walked　on　upstream　a　ways；　and　then　ran　on；　another　half　mile　or　maybe　a　mile　before　they　finally　stopped　in　a　clearing　and　built　a　fire。
　　No　farms　close　by；　but　that　didn't　mean　much。　By　now　the　horses　were　home　with　the　bloody　clothing　and　the　wounds　in　the　horses'　flanks　and　those　names　carved　into　the　saddles。　By　now　every　White　man　in　the　whole　area　was　bringing　his　family　in　to　Vigor　Church；　where　a　few　men　could　protect　them　while　the　rest　went　out　searching　for　the　missing　boys。　By　now　Ma　was　pale　with　terror；　Pa　raging　for　the　other　men　to　hurry；　hurry；　not　a　minute　to　waste；　got　to　find　the　boys；　if　you　don't　e　now　I'll　go　on　alone！　And　the　others　saying；　Calm　down；　calm　down；　can't　do　no　good　by　yourself；　we'll　catch　them；　you　bet。　Nobody　admitting　what　they　all　knew　　that　Al　and　Measure　were　as　good　as　dead。
　　But　Al　didn't　plan　to　be　dead。　No　sir。　He　planned　to　be　absolutely　alive；　him　and　Measure　both。
　　The　Reds　built　up　the　fire　good　and　hot；　and　it　sure　wasn't　no　cook　fire。　Since　the　sun　was　shining　bright　and　hard　already；　it　made　Al　and　Measure　sweat　something　awful；　even　in　their　short　summer　underwear。　They　sweated　even　more　when　the　Reds　cut　even　that　much　off　them；　popping　off　the　buttons　down　the　front　and　slicing　it　right　down　the　back；　so　they　were　naked　right　down　to　the　ground　they　sat　on。
　　It　was　about　then　that　one　of　the　Reds　noticed　Al's　forehead。　He　took　a　big　hank　of　underwear　cloth　and　wiped　at　Al's　face；　rubbing　pretty　hard　to　get　the　dried　blood　off。　Then　he　started　jabbering　at　the　others。　They　all　gathered　around　to　see。　Then　they　checked　Measure's　forehead；　too。　Well；　Al　knew　what　they　were　looking　for。　And　he　knew　they　wouldn't　find　it。　Cause　he　had　healed　up　his　own　forehead　without　a　scar；　not　a　mark　on　his　own　face。　And　of　course　no　mark　on　Measure；　either；　since　he　wasn't　cut。　That'd　make　them　think　a　little。
　　But　it　wasn't　healing　that　Al　was　depending　on　to　save　them。　It　was　too　hard；　too　slow　　they　could　sure　cut　faster　than　Al　could　heal；　and　that　was　the　truth。　It　was　a　lot　faster　for　him　to　use　that　knack　he　had　on　things　like　stone　and　metal；　which　was　all　the　same　straight　through；　living　flesh；　on　the　other　hand；　was　plicated　with　all　kinds　of　little