osc.am2.redprophet- 第1节

　　
　　This　story　takes　place　in　an　America　whose　history　is　often　similar　to；　but　often　quite　different　from　our　own。　You　should　not　assume　that　the　portrayal　in　this　book　of　a　person　who　shares　a　name　with　a　figure　from　American　history　is　an　accurate　portrayal　of　that　historical　figure。　In　particular；　you　should　be　aware　that　William　Henry　Harrison；　famed　in　our　own　history　for　having　the　briefest　presidency　and　for　his　unforgettable　election　slogan　〃Tippecanoe　and　Tyler　too；〃　was　a　somewhat　nicer　person　than　his　counterpart　in　this　book。
　　My　thanks　to　Carol　Breakstone　for　American　Indian　lore；　to　Beth　Meacham　for　Octagon　Mound　and　Flint　Ridge；　to　Wayne　Williams　for　heroic　patience；　and　to　my　great…great…grandfather　Joseph　for　the　stories　behind　the　story　in　this　book。
　　As　always　with　my　work；　Kristine　A。　Card　has　influenced　and　improved　every　page　in　this　book。
　　
　　
　　Chapter　1　　Hooch
　　
　　Not　many　flatboats　were　getting　down　the　Hio　these　days；　not　with　pioneers　aboard；　anyway；　not　with　families　and　tools　and　furniture　and　seed　and　a　few　shoats　to　start　a　pig　herd。　It　took　only　a　couple　of　fire　arrows　and　pretty　soon　some　tribe　of　Reds　would　have　themselves　a　string　of　half…charred　scalps　to　sell　to　the　French　in　Detroit。
　　But　Hooch　Palmer　had　no　such　trouble。　The　Reds　all　knew　the　look　of　his　flatboat；　stacked　high　with　kegs。　Most　of　those　kegs　sloshed　with　whisky；　which　was　about　the　only　musical　sound　them　Reds　understood。　But　in　the　middle　of　the　vast　heap　of　cooperage　there　was　one　keg　that　didn't　slosh。　It　was　filled　with　gunpowder；　and　it　had　a　fuse　attached。
　　How　did　he　use　that　gunpowder？　They'd　be　floating　along　with　the　current；　poling　on　round　a　bend；　and　all　of　a　sudden　there'd　be　a　half…dozen　canoes　filled　with　painted…up　Reds　of　the　Kicky…Poo　persuasion。　Or　they'd　see　a　fire　burning　near　shore；　and　some　Shaw…Nee　devils　dancing　around　with　arrows　ready　to　set　alight。
　　For　most　folks　that　meant　it　was　time　to　pray；　fight；　and　die。　Not　Hooch；　though。　He'd　stand　right　up　in　the　middle　of　that　flatboat；　a　torch　in　one　hand　and　the　fuse　in　the　other；　and　shout；　〃Blow　up　whisky！　Blow　up　whisky！〃
　　Well；　most　Reds　didn't　talk　much　English；　but　they　sure　knew　what　〃blow　up〃　and　〃whisky〃　meant。　And　I　instead　of　arrows　flying　or　canoes　overtaking　them；　pretty　soon　them　canoes　passed　by　him　on　the　far　side　of　the　river。　Some　Red　yelled；　〃Carthage　City！〃　and　Hooch　hollered　back；　〃That's　right！〃　and　the　canoes　just　zipped　on　down　the　Hio；　heading　for　where　that　likker　would　soon　be　sold。
　　The　poleboys；　of　course；　it　was　their　first　trip　downriver；　and　they；　didn't　know　all　that　Hooch　Palmer　knew；　so　they　about　filled　their　trousers　first　time　they　saw　them　Reds　with　fire　arrows。　And　when　they　saw　Hooch　holding　his　torch　by　that　fuse；　they　like　to　jumped　right　in　the　river。　Hooch　just　laughed　and　laughed。　〃You　boys　don't　know　about　Reds　and　likker；〃　he　said。　〃They　won't　do　nothing　that　might　cause　a　single　drop　from　these　kegs　to　spill　into　the　Hio。　They'd　kill　their　own　mother　and　not　think　twice；　if　she　stood　between　them　and　a　keg；　but　they　won't　touch　us　as　long　as　I　got　the　gunpowder　ready　to　blow　if　they　lay　one　hand　on　me。〃
　　Privately　the　poleboys　might　wonder　if　Hooch　really　would　blow　the　whole　raft；　crew　and　all；　but　the　fact　is　Hooch　would。　He　wasn't　much　of　a　thinker；　nor　did　he　spend　much　time　brooding　about　death　and　the　hereafter　or　such　philosophical　questions；　but　this　much　he　had　decided：　when　he　died；　he　supposed　he　wouldn't　die　alone。　He　also　supposed　that　if　somebody　killed　him；　they'd　get　no　profit　from　the　deed；　none　at　all。　Specially　not　some　half…drunk　weak…sister　cowardly　Red　with　a　scalping　knife。
　　The　best　secret　of　all　was；　Hooch　wouldn't　need　no　torch　and　he　wouldn't　need　no　fuse；　neither。　Why；　that　fuse　didn't　even　go　right　into　the　gunpowder　keg；　if　the　truth　be　known　　Hooch　didn't　want　a　chance　of　that　powder　going　off　by　accident。　No；　if　Hooch　ever　needed　to　blow　up　his　flatboat；　he　could　just　set　down　and　think　about　it　for　a　while。　And　pretty　soon　that　powder　would　start　to　hotten　up　right　smart；　and　maybe　a　little　smoke　would　e　off　it；　and　then　pow！　it　goes　off。
　　That's　right。　Old　Hooch　was　a　spark。　Oh；　there's　some　folks　says　there's　no　such　thing　as　a　spark；　and　for　proof　they　say；　〃Have　you　ever　met　a　spark；　or　knowed　anybody　who　did？〃　but　that's　no　proof　at　all。　Cause　if　you　happen　to　be　a　spark；　you　don't　go　around　telling　everybody；　do　you？　It's　not　as　if　anybody's　hoping　to　hire　your　services　　it's　too　easy　to　use　flint　and　steel；　or　even　them　alchemical　matches。　No；　the　only　value　there　is　to　being　a　spark　is　if　you　want　to　start　a　fire　from　a　distance；　and　the　only　time　you　want　to　do　that　is　if　it's　a　bad　fire；　meant　to　hurt　somebody；　burn　down　a　building；　blow　something　up。　And　if　you　hire　out　that　kind　of　service；　you　don't　exactly　put　up　a　sign　that　says　Spark　For　Hire。
　　Worst　of　it　is　that　if　word　once　gets　around　that　you're　a　spark；　every　little　fire　gets　blamed　on　you。　Somebody's　boy　lights　up　a　pipe　out　in　the　barn；　and　the　barn　burns　down　　does　that　boy　ever　say；　〃Yep；　Pa；　it　was　me　all　right。〃　No　sir；　that　boy　says；　〃Must've　been　some　spark　set　that　fire；　Pa！〃　and　then　they　go　looking　for　you；　the　neighborhood　scapegoat。　No；　Hooch　was　no　fool。　He　didn't　ever　tell　nobody　about　how　he　could　get　things　het　up　and　flaming。
　　There　was　another　reason　Hooch　didn't　use　his　sparking　ability　too　much。　It　was　a　reason　so　secret　that　Hooch　didn't　rightly　know　it　himself。　Thing　was；　fire　scared　him。　Scared　him　deep。　The　way　some　folks　is　scared　of　water；　and　so　they　go　to　sea；　and　some　folks　is　scared　of　death；　and　so　they　take　up　gravedigging；　and　some　folks　is　scared　of　God；　and　so　they　set　to　preaching。　Well　Hooch　feared　the　fire　like　he　feared　no　other　thing；　and　so　he　was　always　drawn　to　it；　with　that　sick　feeling　in　his　stomach；　but　when　it　was　time　for　him　to　lay　a　fire　himself；　why；　he'd　back　off；　he'd　delay；　he'd　think　of　reasons　why　he　shouldn't　do　it　at　all。　Hooch　had　a　knack；　but　he　was　powerful　reluctant　to　make　much　use　of　it。
　　But　he　would　have　done　it。　He　would　have　blown　up　that　powder　and　himself　and　his　poleboys；　and　all　his　likker；　before　he'd　let　a　Red　take　it　by　murder。　Hooch　might　have　his　bad　fear　of　fire；　but　he'd　overe　it　right　quick　if　he　got　mad　enough。
　　Good　thing；　then；　that　the　Reds　loved　likker　so　much　they　didn't　want　to　risk　spilling　a　drop。　No　canoe　came　too　close；　no　arrow　whizzed　in　to　thud　and　twang　against　a　keg；　and　Hooch　and　his　kegs　and　casks　and　firkins　and　barrels　all　slipped　along　the　top　of　the　water　peaceful　as　you　please；　clear　to　Carthage　City；　which　was　Governor　Harrison's　high…falutin　name　for　a　stockade　with　a　hundred　soldiers　right　smack　where　the　Little　My…Ammy　River　met　the　Hio。　But　Bill　Harrison　was　the　kind　of　man　who　gave　the　name　first；　then　worked　hard　to　make　the　place　live　up　to　the　name。　And　sure　enough；　there　was　about　fifty　chimney　fires　outside　the　stockade　this　time；　which　meant　Carthage　City　was　almost　up　to　being　a　village。
　　He　could　hear　them　yelling　before　he　hove　into　view　of　the　wharf　　there　must　be　Reds　who　spent　half　their　life　just　setting　on　the　riverbank　waiting　for　the　likker　boat　to　e　in。　And　Hooch　knew　they　were　specially　eager　this　time；　seeing　as　how　some　money　changed　hands　back　in　Fort　Dekane；　so　the　other　likker　dealers　got　held　up　this　way　and　that　until　old　Carthage　City　must　be　dry　as　the　inside　of　a　bull's　tit。　Now　here　es　Hooch　with　his　flatboat　loaded　up　heavier　than　they　ever　saw；　and　he'd　get　a　price　this　time；　that's　for　sure。
　　Bill　Harrison　might　be　vain　as　a　partridge；　taking　on　airs　and　calling　himself　governor　when　nobody　elected　him　and　nobody　appointed　him　but　his　own　self；　but　he　knew　his　business。　He　had　those　boys　of　his　in　smart…looking　uniforms；　lined　up　at　the　wharf　just　as　neat　as　you　please；　their　muskets　loaded　and　ready　to　shoot　down　the　first　Red　who　so　much　as　took　a　step　toward　the　shore。　It　was　no　formality；　neither　　them　Reds　looked　mighty　eager；　Hooch　could　see。　Not　jumping　up　and　down　like　children；　of　course；　but　just　standing　there；　just　standing　and　watching；　right　out　in　the　open；　not　c