in the gloom, thinking his own thoughts and fighting for air, too, if there was any justice in this world, as heaven knows there wasnât as far as he knew, travelling, now, from one place to another without knowing where that might be and him already changing, changed, indeed, so that he no more knew himself than the place he was headed. Both a mystery, like it was a mystery he had opened his mouth when he knew he should keep it shut, like it was a mystery he was travelling with a boy the colour of tar quite as if they were father and son, as God knows they might be kin in a place where no blood was pure, no matter what they said and how they acted, lynching their own, maybe, without knowing, without caring either.
*Â Â Â *Â Â Â *
I see the man who fired the shot. I looked across and see him in among the trees. I guess it was a flash of light or something, because he caught my eye. But no sooner I saw him than he fires and the white man takes it in the shoulder. We were by the river and the bullet pushed him to the edge. I looked back to the man and saw him lift the gun again and I knew we were both dead, so I jump for the river, taking the man along with me. The water ran fast and he clawed at me so that I had to kick free. Even so, I couldnât reach up to the air, though I see it above me, silver and blue. I hit my head on a rock which sprang me up to the top where I could take a breath, then I was spinning down again. After that, it was rocks and a spill of bubbles in my ears like bells and trying to keep clear and stay in the pull of the current. Then nothing, nothing until I looked up to see the white man bending over me and me lying on the river bank and choking water. I guess he got me out, but here he was already tugging at me and saying we got to climb a hill. They was after us still and we got to climb to the railroad track. And I knew it was true. I wanted to go off on my own, but I knew they would get me for sure, so I stayed with him and climbed the hillside, slipping where it was still slick from the rain.
I felt all bruised inside and on my back, and my face was rough like someone had rubbed it with dirt. Nothing stopped. Ever since the men came to the house, nothing had stopped. Things had happened one after another and there seemed no way I could hold them off. All we did was run and it didnât seem to make much difference whether we was in the water or on the land. There was people after us and no way I could see that they wouldnât get us. And I could see he were in a bad way and not likely to be much good. I could see where his gun had gone that I thought might be the saving of us like it was before, except that now it was gone and if they could shoot him once, they could shoot him again and me alongside him.
We reached the top and I could see how he was almost done. He was breathing heavy and favouring one side. He was shot up and knocked about so much, I was surprised he was moving at all. We lay down under the trees and looked down the track. I donât know how he knew anything would be along. I had heard the whistle before, right enough, but not so often I could be sure when anything would be along. Then, there it was, coming toward us. And he said how we should jump on board but not how we should do it. And he said that if I should make it I should keep on going, as if I would have thought to do anything else, though where I should go to he didnât say. Maybe he had somewhere to go, but I didnât. I did if I done what my daddy had said, but I didnât and had killed a man instead and so couldnât go there any more, as it seemed to me. So now I was travelling without knowing where.
I ran for the train, looking for where I could jump, and a car came along. I got in easy enough, though whatever happened to me in the river was making me feel bad. I turned around and there was the white man running beside the train, red in the face and panting like a bull.
*Â Â Â *Â Â Â *
I see the man who fired the shot. I looked across and see him in among the trees. I guess it was a flash of light or something, because he caught my eye. But no sooner I saw him than he fires and the white man takes it in the shoulder. We were by the river and the bullet pushed him to the edge. I looked back to the man and saw him lift the gun again and I knew we were both dead, so I jump for the river, taking the man along with me. The water ran fast and he clawed at me so that I had to kick free. Even so, I couldnât reach up to the air, though I see it above me, silver and blue. I hit my head on a rock which sprang me up to the top where I could take a breath, then I was spinning down again. After that, it was rocks and a spill of bubbles in my ears like bells and trying to keep clear and stay in the pull of the current. Then nothing, nothing until I looked up to see the white man bending over me and me lying on the river bank and choking water. I guess he got me out, but here he was already tugging at me and saying we got to climb a hill. They was after us still and we got to climb to the railroad track. And I knew it was true. I wanted to go off on my own, but I knew they would get me for sure, so I stayed with him and climbed the hillside, slipping where it was still slick from the rain.
I felt all bruised inside and on my back, and my face was rough like someone had rubbed it with dirt. Nothing stopped. Ever since the men came to the house, nothing had stopped. Things had happened one after another and there seemed no way I could hold them off. All we did was run and it didnât seem to make much difference whether we was in the water or on the land. There was people after us and no way I could see that they wouldnât get us. And I could see he were in a bad way and not likely to be much good. I could see where his gun had gone that I thought might be the saving of us like it was before, except that now it was gone and if they could shoot him once, they could shoot him again and me alongside him.
We reached the top and I could see how he was almost done. He was breathing heavy and favouring one side. He was shot up and knocked about so much, I was surprised he was moving at all. We lay down under the trees and looked down the track. I donât know how he knew anything would be along. I had heard the whistle before, right enough, but not so often I could be sure when anything would be along. Then, there it was, coming toward us. And he said how we should jump on board but not how we should do it. And he said that if I should make it I should keep on going, as if I would have thought to do anything else, though where I should go to he didnât say. Maybe he had somewhere to go, but I didnât. I did if I done what my daddy had said, but I didnât and had killed a man instead and so couldnât go there any more, as it seemed to me. So now I was travelling without knowing where.
I ran for the train, looking for where I could jump, and a car came along. I got in easy enough, though whatever happened to me in the river was making me feel bad. I turned around and there was the white man running beside the train, red in the face and panting like a bull.
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