Adventure by Jack London (best motivational books of all time .txt) đ
- Author: Jack London
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ââHope I havenât killed the beggar,â Sheldon muttered aloud, springing to his feet and running forward.
A hundred feet away all anxiety on that score was relieved by Tudor, who made shift with his left hand, and from his automatic pistol hurled a rain of bullets all around Sheldon. The latter dodged behind a palm trunk, counting the shots, and when the eighth had been fired he rushed in on the wounded man. He kicked the pistol out of the otherâs hand, and then sat down on him in order to keep him down.
âBe quiet,â he said. âIâve got you, so thereâs no use struggling.â
Tudor still attempted to struggle and to throw him off.
âKeep quiet, I tell you,â Sheldon commanded. âIâm satisfied with the outcome, and youâve got to be. So you might as well give in and call this affair closed.â
Tudor reluctantly relaxed.
âRather funny, isnât it, these modern duels?â Sheldon grinned down at him as he removed his weight. âNot a bit dignified. If youâd struggled a moment longer Iâd have rubbed your face in the earth. Iâve a good mind to do it anyway, just to teach you that duelling has gone out of fashion. Now let us see to your injuries.â
âYou only got me that last,â Tudor grunted sullenly, âlying in ambush likeââ
âLike a wild Indian. Precisely. Youâve caught the idea, old man.â Sheldon ceased his mocking and stood up. âYou lie there quietly until I send back some of the boys to carry you in. Youâre not seriously hurt, and itâs lucky for you I didnât follow your example. If you had been struck with one of your own bullets, a carriage and pair would have been none too large to drive through the hole it would have made. As it is, youâre drilled cleanâa nice little perforation. All you need is antiseptic washing and dressing, and youâll be around in a month. Now take it easy, and Iâll send a stretcher for you.â
When Sheldon emerged from among the trees he found Joan waiting at the compound gate, and he could not fail to see that she was visibly gladdened at the sight of him.
âI canât tell you how glad I am to see you,â was her greeting. âWhatâs become of Tudor? That last flutter of the automatic wasnât nice to listen to. Was it you or Tudor?â
âSo you know all about it,â he answered coolly. âWell, it was Tudor, but he was doing it left-handed. Heâs down with a hole in his shoulder.â He looked at her keenly. âDisappointing, isnât it?â he drawled.
âHow do you mean?â
âWhy, that I didnât kill him.â
âBut I didnât want him killed just because he kissed me,â she cried.
âOh, he did kiss you!â Sheldon retorted, in evident surprise. âI thought you said he hurt your arm.â
âOne could call it a kiss, though it was only on the end of the nose.â She laughed at the recollection. âBut I paid him back for that myself. I boxed his face for him. And he did hurt my arm. Itâs black and blue. Look at it.â
She pulled up the loose sleeve of her blouse, and he saw the bruised imprints of two fingers.
Just then a gang of blacks came out from among the trees carrying the wounded man on a rough stretcher.
âRomantic, isnât it?â Sheldon sneered, following Joanâs startled gaze. âAnd now Iâll have to play surgeon and doctor him up. Funny, this twentieth-century duelling. First you drill a hole in a man, and next you set about plugging the hole up.â
They had stepped aside to let the stretcher pass, and Tudor, who had heard the remark, lifted himself up on the elbow of his sound arm and said with a defiant grin, -
âIf youâd got one of mine youâd have had to plug with a dinner-plate.â
âOh, you wretch!â Joan cried. âYouâve been cutting your bullets.â
âIt was according to agreement,â Tudor answered. âEverything went. We could have used dynamite if we wanted to.â
âHeâs right,â Sheldon assured her, as they swung in behind. âAny weapon was permissible. I lay in the grass where he couldnât see me, and bushwhacked him in truly noble fashion. Thatâs what comes of having women on the plantation. And now itâs antiseptics and drainage tubes, I suppose. Itâs a nasty mess, and Iâll have to read up on it before I tackle the job.â
âI donât see that itâs my fault,â she began. âI couldnât help it because he kissed me. I never dreamed he would attempt it.â
âWe didnât fight for that reason. But there isnât time to explain. If youâll get dressings and bandages ready Iâll look up âgun-shot woundsâ and see whatâs to be done.â
âIs he bleeding seriously?â she asked.
âNo; the bullet seems to have missed the important arteries. But that would have been a pickle.â
âThen thereâs no need to bother about reading up,â Joan said. âAnd Iâm just dying to hear what it was all about. The Apostle is lying becalmed inside the point, and her boats are out to wing. Sheâll be at anchor in five minutes, and Doctor Welshmere is sure to be on board. So all weâve got to do is to make Tudor comfortable. Weâd better put him in your room under the mosquito-netting, and send a boat off to tell Dr. Welshmere to bring his instruments.â
An hour afterward, Dr. Welshmere left the patient comfortable and attended to, and went down to the beach to go on board, promising to come back to dinner. Joan and Sheldon, standing on the veranda, watched him depart.
âIâll never have it in for the missionaries again since seeing them here in the Solomons,â she said, seating herself in a steamer-chair.
She looked at Sheldon and began to laugh.
âThatâs right,â he said. âItâs the way I feel, playing the fool and trying to murder a guest.â
âBut you havenât told me what it was all about.â
âYou,â he answered shortly.
âMe? But you just said it wasnât.â
âOh, it wasnât the kiss.â He walked over to the railing and leaned against it, facing her. âBut it was about you all the same, and I may as well tell you. You remember, I warned you long ago what would happen when you wanted to become a partner in Berande. Well, all the beach is gossiping about it; and Tudor persisted in repeating the gossip to me. So you see it wonât do for you to stay on here under present conditions. It would be better if you went away.â
âBut I donât want to go away,â she objected with rueful countenance.
âA chaperone, thenââ
âNo, nor a chaperone.â
âBut you surely donât expect me to go around shooting every slanderer in the Solomons that opens his mouth?â he demanded gloomily.
âNo, nor that either,â she answered with quick impulsiveness. âIâll tell you what weâll do. Weâll get married and put a stop to it all. There!â
He looked at her in amazement, and would have believed that she was making fun of him had it not been for the warm blood that suddenly suffused her cheeks.
âDo you mean that?â he asked unsteadily. âWhy?â
âTo put a stop to all the nasty gossip of the beach. Thatâs a pretty good reason, isnât it?â
The temptation was strong enough and sudden enough to make him waver, but all the disgust came back to him that was his when he lay in the grass fighting gnats and cursing adventure, and he answered, -
âNo; it is worse than no reason at all. I donât care to marry you as a matter of expedienceââ
âYou are the most ridiculous creature!â she broke in, with a flash of her old-time anger. âYou talk love and marriage to me, very much against my wish, and go mooning around over the plantation week after week because you canât have me, and look at me when you think Iâm not noticing and when all the time Iâm wondering when you had your last square meal because of the hungry look in your eyes, and make eyes at my revolver-belt hanging on a nail, and fight duels about me, and all the restâandâand now, when I say Iâll marry you, you do yourself the honour of refusing me.â
âYou canât make me any more ridiculous than I feel,â he answered, rubbing the lump on his forehead reflectively. âAnd if this is the accepted romantic programmeâa duel over a girl, and the girl rushing into the arms of the winnerâwhy, I shall not make a bigger ass of myself by going in for it.â
âI thought youâd jump at it,â she confessed, with a naivete he could not but question, for he thought he saw a roguish gleam in her eyes.
âMy conception of love must differ from yours then,â he said. âI should want a woman to marry me for love of me, and not out of romantic admiration because I was lucky enough to drill a hole in a manâs shoulder with smokeless powder. I tell you I am disgusted with this adventure tomfoolery and rot. I donât like it. Tudor is a sample of the adventure-kindâpicking a quarrel with me and behaving like a monkey, insisting on fighting with meââto the death,â he said. It was like a penny dreadful.â
She was biting her lip, and though her eyes were cool and level-looking as ever, the tell-tale angry red was in her cheeks.
âOf course, if you donât want to marry meââ
âBut I do,â he hastily interposed.
âOh, you doââ
âBut donât you see, little girl, I want you to love me,â he hurried on. âOtherwise, it would be only half a marriage. I donât want you to marry me simply because by so doing a stop is put to the beach gossip, nor do I want you to marry me out of some foolish romantic notion. I shouldnât want you ⊠that way.â
âOh, in that case,â she said with assumed deliberateness, and he could have sworn to the roguish gleam, âin that case, since you are willing to consider my offer, let me make a few remarks. In the first place, you neednât sneer at adventure when you are living it yourself; and you were certainly living it when I found you first, down with fever on a lonely plantation with a couple of hundred wild cannibals thirsting for your life. Then I came alongââ
âAnd what with your arriving in a gale,â he broke in, âfresh from the wreck of the schooner, landing on the beach in a whale-boat full of picturesque Tahitian sailors, and coming into the bungalow with a Baden-Powell on your head, sea-boots on your feet, and a whacking big Coltâs dangling on your hipâwhy, I am only too ready to admit that you were the quintessence of adventure.â
âVery good,â she cried exultantly. âItâs mere simple arithmeticâ the adding of your adventure and my adventure together. So thatâs settled, and you neednât jeer at adventure any more. Next, I donât think there was anything romantic in Tudorâs attempting to kiss me, nor anything like adventure in this absurd duel. But I do think, now, that it was romantic for you to fall in love with
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