第62部分（第1页）

（Flames。）

The　needle　inside　the　greasy；　almost　opaque　dial　had　danced　up　to　two　hundred

and　fifteen　pounds　per　square　inch。

Another　memory　occurred　to　him；　a　childhood　memory。　There　had　been　a　wasps

nest　in　the　lower　branches　of　their　apple　tree　behind　the　house。　One　of　his

older　brothers　—　he　couldnt　remember　which　one　now　—　had　been　stung　while

swinging　in　the　old　tire　Daddy　had　hung　from　one　of　the　trees　lower　branches。

It　had　been　late　summer；　when　wasps　tend　to　be　at　their　ugliest。

Their　father；　just　home　from　work；　dressed　in　his　whites；　the　smell　of　beer

hanging　around　his　face　in　a　fine　mist；　had　gathered　all　three　boys；　Brett；

Mike；　and　little　Jacky；　and　told　them　he　was　going　to　get　rid　of　the　wasps。

〃Now　watch；〃　he　had　said；　smiling　and　staggering　a　little　（he　hadnt　been

using　the　cane　then；　the　collision　with　the　milk　truck　was　years　in　the　future）。

〃Maybe　youll　learn　something。　My　father　showed　me　this。〃

He　had　raked　a　big　pile　of　rain…dampened　leaves　under　the　branch　where　the

wasps　nest　rested；　a　deadlier　fruit　than　the　shrunken　but　tasty　apples　their

tree　usually　produced　in　late　September；　which　was　then　still　half　a　month　away。

He　lit　the　leaves。　The　day　was　clear　and　windless。　The　leaves　smoldered　but

didnt　really　burn；　and　they　made　a　smell　—　a　fragrance　that　had　echoed　back　to　him

each　fall　when　men　in　Saturday　pants　and　light　Windbreakers　raked　leaves

together　and　burned　them。　A　sweet　smell　with　a　bitter　undertone；　rich　and

evocative。　The　smoldering　leaves　produced　great　rafts　of　smoke　that　drifted　up

to　obscure　the　nest。

Their　father　had　let　the　leaves　smolder　all　that　afternoon；　drinking　beer　on

the　porch　and　dropping　the　empty　Black　Label　cans　into　his　wifes　plastic

floorbucket　while　his　two　older　sons　flanked　him　and　little　Jacky　sat　on　the

steps　at　his　feet；　playing　with　his　Bolo　Bouncer　and　singing　monotonously　over

and　over：　〃Your　cheating　heart　。。。　will　make　you　weep　。。。　your　cheating

heart　。。。　is　gonna　tell　on　you。〃

At　quarter　of　six；　just　before　supper；　Daddy　had　gone　out　to　the　apple　tree

with　his　sons　grouped　carefully　behind　him。　In　one　hand　he　had　a　garden　hoe。　He

knocked　the　leaves　apart；　leaving　little　clots　spread　around　to　smolder　and　die。

Then　he　reached　the　hoe　handle　up；　weaving　and　blinking；　and　after　two　or　three

tries　he　knocked　the　nest　to　the　ground。