p&c.thunderhead-第77部分

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seemed　magnified　in　the　close　space：　it　bore　down　on　him　confusingly；　ing　in　from　all　sides。　He　shook　his　head　to　clear　it；　taking　a　step　backward　as　he　did　so。　He　was　at　the　very　edge　of　the　flood　now；　and　the　water　gurgled　through　the　tree　trunks；　curling　and　tugging　around　his　boots。　He　moved　back　yet　again；　slowly；　his　boots　making　a　light　plashing　noise。　
　With　a　dull；　hollow　thud　of　fear；　he　realized　it　had　been　a　mistake　to　retreat　to　this　grove。　Darkness　was　descending　so　swiftly　on　the　canyon　that　he　could　make　out　little　beyond　the　dense　thicket　of　trees。　He　waited；　shivering　slightly；　feeling　the　coldness　of　the　water　creep　into　his　boots。　His　eyes　widened　as　he　tried　to　separate　the　shapes　of　the　trees　from　each　other；　to　distinguish　them　in　the　damp；　dark　gloom。　
　Now　he　slipped　his　gun　out　of　the　holster；　waiting。　He　took　another　step　back　into　the　swirling　water。　It　surged　a　little　higher；　and　a　distant；　detached　part　of　him　noted　that　the　flood　was　ing　up　again。　His　anger　was　no　longer　a　fort；　now　all　he　felt　was　cold；　naked　fear。　It　was　too　dark　to　see　anything。　If　only　he　could　hear；　he　might　be　able　to　act：　but　the　sound　of　the　water　was　like　a　heavy　cloak；　depriving　him　of　his　most　valuable　sense。　All　he　had　left；　in　fact；　was　smell。　And　even　that　wasn't　working　properly：　by　some　trick　of　his　overcharged　brain；　he　felt　surrounded　by　the　beautiful；　delicate　scent　of　morning　glories。　
　Just　then；　to　his　left；　he　saw　a　terrible　movement　of　shadow：　a　violent　wrenching　of　black　upon　black。　Too　late；　he　realized　the　things　had　been　in　the　grove　all　the　time；　watching　and　waiting；　while　he　came　to　them。　He　raised　the　gun　with　a　cry；　but　the　shot　went　wild　and　the　weapon　tumbled　into　the　flood。　As　the　muzzle　flare　died　away；　Swire　saw…or　thought　he　saw…the　blade　of　a　knife；　impossibly　black　and　cold；　slicing　down　through　the　night。　
　
　
56
　
　IN　THE　DEPTHS　OF　THE　HIDDEN　CAVERN；　BLACK　carefully　edged　a　penknife　beneath　the　uppermost　clay　seal；　his　arms　shaking　with　exhaustion　and　excitement。　He　turned　one　hand；　trying　to　apply　an　even　pressure　to　the　seal；　but　his　aching　fingers　twitched　and　the　seal　popped　free；　along　with　a　piece　of　the　plastered　door。　
　〃Easy；〃　Sloane　said　from　her　position　behind　the　large　camera；　some　distance　away。　
　Black　craned　his　neck　toward　the　small　hole；　but　it　was　too　small　and　uneven　to　make　out　anything　within。　From　the　valley　outside　the　city；　there　was　a　faint；　muffled　crump　of　distant　thunder。　
　Black　coughed　into　his　hand；　then　again；　more　violently；　finding　flecks　of　mud　in　the　phlegm。　He　shook　it　away　in　disgust　and　returned　to　the　stone　facade。　Bonarotti；　who　had　now　dug　away　the　piles　of　sloping　dust　around　the　kiva　door；　joined　him　in　the　work。　
　In　another　half　hour；　a　second　seal　came　into　view。　Enough　courses　of　stone　had　now　been　removed　to　expose　over　three　feet　of　plastered　door。　Sloane　came　forward　to　take　a　series　of　photographs。　Then　she　stepped　back　out　of　the　pall　of　hanging　dust；　scribbling　in　her　notebook。　Black　slid　his　knife　beneath　the　second　seal；　pried　it　carefully　away　from　the　underlying　plaster；　and　set　it　aside。　All　that　now　stood　between　him　and　the　crowning　validation　of　his　theory　was　a　thin；　featureless　wall　of　plaster　and　mortar。　He　reached　down　for　a　pick；　hefted　it　in　his　bruised　hands；　then　swung　it　toward　the　wall。　
　A　piece　of　plaster　fell　away。　Black　swung　the　pick　again；　then　again；　enlarging　the　hole　considerably：　a　dark；　ragged　rectangle　in　the　glare　of　the　lights。　Excitedly；　he　dropped　the　pick。　
　Instantly；　Sloane　returned　to　his　side。　Taking　a　flashlight　from　her　pocket；　she　thrust　it　deep　into　the　hole；　pressing　her　face　against　the　plaster。　Black　saw　her　body　tense。　She　remained　still　for　a　minute；　perhaps　more。　Then　she　withdrew；　silently；　her　face　alive　with　excitement。　Black　grabbed　the　light　from　her　unresisting　hand　and　crowded　forward。　
　The　feeble　yellow　gleam　of　the　small　flashlight　could　barely　penetrate　the　murk　within。　But　as　he　played　it　about；　Black　felt　his　own　heart　swell。　Everywhere　the　glint　of　gold。　。　。　。　The　yellow　glimmer　filled　the　kiva；　winking　and　flashing　everywhere；　on　the　floor；　on　the　stone　banco　that　ran　around　the　perimeter：　the　rich　mellow　shine　of　a　thousand　curvilinear　golden　surfaces。　
　Violently；　Black　withdrew　his　hand。　〃Break　it　down！〃　he　cried。　〃It's　stuffed　with　gold！〃　
　〃By　the　book；　Aaron；〃　Sloane　said　sharply；　but　the　exhilaration　in　her　voice　belied　caution。　
　He　seized　the　pick　and　resumed　working　along　the　top　of　the　doorway。　Grabbing　a　second　pick；　Bonarotti　stood　beside　him；　driving　it　furiously　into　the　adobe　in　time　with　Black's　own　blows。　Soon；　the　hole　grew　to　more　than　two　feet　square。　Black　stopped　to　jam　his　entire　head　into　the　opening；　wedging　his　shoulders　hard；　trying　to　force　his　body　through；　swinging　Sloane's　flashlight　back　and　forth。　But　their　picks　had　roused　so　much　dust　within　the　kiva　that　all　he　could　see　were　faint　golden　glimmers。　
　The　flashlight　beam　failed　and　he　pulled　himself　back　out；　throwing　it　down　in　disgust。　〃More！〃　he　gasped。　
　Outside　the　city；　another　muffled　crump　of　thunder　punctuated　the　obbligato　whisper　of　rain。　But　Black　heard　nothing　except　the　sound　of　his　pick　on　plaster；　and　the　ragged　hiss　of　his　breath　in　the　close　air。　Reality　faded　into　a　dream。　A　strange　sensation　filled　his　head；　and　he　realized　he　could　no　longer　feel　his　arms　as　they　wielded　the　pick。　
　The　dreamlike　sense　grew　stronger；　almost　frighteningly　strong；　and　he　staggered　back　from　the　kiva；　trying　to　clear　his　head。　As　he　did　so；　he　felt　an　overwhelming　tiredness。　He　glanced　first　at　Bonarotti；　who　was　still　swinging　his　pick　in　a　regular；　metronomic　cadence；　then　at　Sloane；　waiting　behind；　her　body　still　tensed　with　expectation。　
　There　was　a　sudden　crumpling　of　plaster；　and　Black　swivelled　his　head　toward　the　kiva。　A　large　chunk　of　adobe　had　e　free；　breaking　into　earth…colored　chunks　on　the　rocks　below。　And　now　Black　saw　that　the　hole　was　definitely　large　enough　to　admit　a　person。　
　He　picked　up　one　of　Sloane's　lanterns　and　moved　forward。　〃Get　out　of　my　way；〃　he　said；　peremptorily　shoving　Bonarotti　aside。　
　The　cook　staggered　back；　dropped　the　pick；　then　turned　to　face　Black；　his　eyes　narrowing。　But　Black　ignored　him；　desperately　trying　to　angle　the　lantern　beam　into　the　dusty　hole。　
　〃Step　aside；〃　came　Sloane's　voice　from　behind　him。　〃I　said；　step　aside；　both　of　you。〃　
　Bonarotti　hesitated　a　moment。　Then　he　took　a　pace　back。　Black　followed；　surprised　by　the　sudden　cold　edge　to　Sloane's　voice。　
　Sloane　came　forward；　taking　another　series　of　shots。　Then　she　looped　the　camera　around　her　neck；　turned　to　Black；　and　took　the　lantern　from　his　hands。　
　〃Help　me　in；〃　she　said。　
　Black　placed　his　hands　on　her　hips；　pushing　upward　as　she　scrambled　over　the　rocks　and　into　the　hole。　He　could　see　her　light　striping　wildly　across　the　kiva's　ceiling。　Then；　suddenly；　it　receded　to　a　mellow　glow。　He　followed　quickly；　scrabbling　up　the　rocks；　wriggling　through　the　rough　hole　and　sliding　down　the　inner　side；　face…first；　sprawling　in　an　ungainly　muddle；　spitting　out　mouthfuls　of　dust。　A　distant　part　of　him　thought　that　this　was　not　exactly　how　Howard　Carter　would　have　gone　about　it。　
　Sloane　had　dropped　the　lantern；　and　it　lay　on　its　side　in　the　dust。　Trembling　with　excitement；　Black　rose　to　his　feet；　grabbed　the　curved　metal　of　the　lantern's　handle；　and　hoisted　it　upward。　His　arm　ached　with　the　motion；　and　electric　pains　went　through　his　lungs　each　time　he　drew　in　breath。　But　he　barely　noticed：　this　was　the　moment　of　ultimate　discovery；　the　defining　moment　of　his　entire　life。　
　Bonarotti　had　climbed　in　beside　him；　but　Black　paid　him　no　mind。　Everywhere；　from　all　sides；　the　gleam　of　gold　sprang　out　of　the　murk。　Almost　snorting　with　excitement；　he　bent　forward　and　seized　the　closest　object…a　dish；　filled　with　some　kind　of　powder。　
　Instantly；　he　knew　something　was　wrong。　The　dish　in　his　hand　was　light；　the　material　warm　to　the　touch：　not　like　gold；　at　all。　Tossing　the　powder　from　the　bowl；　he　brought　it　closer　to　his　face。　
　Then　he　straightened　up；　flinging　the　object　away　with　a　sob。　
　〃What　the　hell　are　you　doing？〃　Sloane　cried。　
　But　Black　did　not　hear　her。　He　looked　around　the　Sun　Kiva　with　a　sudden；　wild　desperation：　grabbing　things；　dropping　them　again。　It　was　all　wrong。　He　staggered；　fell；　then　rose　with　an　effort。　The　bottomless　disappointment；　after　such　feverish　hopes；　was　more　than　he　could　prehend。　Mechanically；　he　glanced　at　his　panions。　Bonarotti　stood　motionless　beneath　the　ragged　hole；　a　thunderstruck　look　on　his　dust…caked　face。　
　Then　Black　slowly　turned　his　eyes　toward　Sloane。　In　his　pain　and　unutterable　dismay；　he　could　not　quite　prehend　that　her　face；　instead　of　despair；　reflected　shining；　plete　vindication。　
　
　
57
　
　IT　WAS　IMPOSSIBLE　TO　KNOW　HOW　MUCH　TIME　had　passed　before…at　long；　long　last…Nora　felt　a　cool　gush　of　air　stir　the　damp　hair　on　her　forehead。　Slowly；　the　memory　of　where　she　was　and　what　had　happened　returned。　Her　head　throbbed　mercilessly　as　she　gulped　at　the　fresh　air。　
　There　was　a　dead　weight　pushing　against　her　back。　She　struggled；　and　the　weight　moved　slightly；　allowing　a　dim　light