He made two steps forward, then stopped and raised his head. He had finally turned himself around, to pursue his original course up our street. In front of the Radley gate, Tim Johnson had made up what was left of his mind. Atticus rubbed his eyes and chin we saw him blink hard. When Atticus raised his glasses Calpurnia murmured, ‘Sweet Jesus help him,’ and put her hands to her cheeks.Ītticus pushed his glasses to his forehead they slipped down, and he dropped them in the street. He walked quickly, but I thought he moved like an underwater swimmer time had slowed to a nauseating crawl. In a fog, Jem and I watched our father take the gun and walk out into the middle of the street. ‘I’d feel mighty comfortable if you did now,’ he said. Mr Tate almost threw the rifle at Atticus. ‘I haven’t shot a gun in thirty years – ’ ‘For God’s sake, Mr Finch, look where he is! Miss and you’ll go straight into the Radley house! I can’t shoot that well and you know it!’ ‘Don’t waste time, Heck,’ said Atticus, ‘Go on.’Ītticus shook his head vehemently: ‘Don’t just stand there, Heck! He won’t wait all day for you – ’ ‘Take him, Mr Finch,’ Mr Tate handed the rifle to Atticus Jem and I nearly fainted. She tried to block Jem and me with her body, but we looked out from beneath her arms. Go inside, Cal.’Ĭalpurnia opened the screen door, latched it behind her, then unlatched it and held on to the hook. You better get him now before he goes down the side street – Lord knows who’s around the corner. He made a few hesitant steps and stopped in front of the Radley gate then he tried to turn around, but was having difficulty.Ītticus said, ‘He’s within range, Heck. Tim Johnson reached the side-street that ran in front of the Radley Place, and what remained of his poor mind made him pause and seem to consider which road he would take. ‘He’s far from dead, Jem, he hasn’t got started yet.’ ‘He’s lookin’ for a place to die,’ said Jem. We could see him shiver like a horse shedding flies his jaw opened and shut he was alist, but he was being pulled gradually towards us. Tim Johnson was advancing at a snail’s pace, but he was not playing or sniffing at foliage: he seemed dedicated to one course and motivated by an invisible force that was inching him towards us. Mr Tate put his hand to his forehead and leaned forward. ‘Let anything get in front of him and he’ll come straight at it.’ ‘He looks more sick than anything,’ I said. ‘Mr Heck said they walked in a straight line. Tim Johnson came into sight, walking dazedly in the inner rim of the curve parallel to the Radley house. Atticus put his foot on the rung of a chair and rubbed his hand slowly down the side of his thigh. Miss Maudie appeared and stood beside her. I saw Miss Stephanie Crawford’s face framed in the glass window of her front door. I saw him shift his gun to the crook of his arm. I heard Mr Tate sniff, then blow his nose. The trees were still, the mockingbirds were silent, the carpenters at Miss Maudie’s house had vanished. Nothing is more deadly than a deserted, waiting street. Had Tim Johnson behaved thus, I would have been less frightened. I thought mad dogs foamed at the mouth, galloped, leaped and lunged at throats, and I thought they did it in August.
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
Details
AuthorWrite something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview. ArchivesCategories |