但是他沒有注意到我的嘲笑口氣，“噢，我也不知道，”他咯咯地笑著說，“不過，我準備明天去，多捕點鮭魚回來。”
這番話使我對行動方案有了雙倍的把握，我興高采烈地跑回家，想提前慶祝一下勝利。
第二天清晨，我看見他帶著一張漁網和一個黃麻袋出了門，“女戰神”屁顛屁顛地跟在後麵。我知道他要去哪裏，所以，我抄近路穿過後麵的牧場，蹚過那些草叢向山頂爬去。我小心地不被他發現，沿著山路走了幾英裏，之後來到群山中的一處山窩裏，它宛如一座古希臘的“圓形劇場”。峽穀裏流出來的一條湍急的小溪在這裏陡然變緩，形成了一個清澈透明的大水灣，四周的岩石環繞著。這就是他要來的那個地方！我在山頂的某個位置找了塊石頭坐下來，這個位置可以一覽水灣邊的一切，我得意地點起了煙鬥。
我在那等了好長一段時間，約翰·克萊沃豪斯才沿著河床慢悠悠地迎麵走來，“女戰神”漫不經心地在他四周轉悠著，看來他們的心情都不錯。“女戰神”短促而輕快地吠叫著，約翰·克萊沃豪斯嘴裏哼著低沉的小調，兩個家夥一唱一和。等他來到水灣後，便扔下漁網和黃麻袋，然後從屁股口袋裏掏出一個又大又粗的像是蠟燭一樣的東西。我知道那是一根“爆破筒”，這是他捕魚的工具之一。他就是靠這個炸藥炸死鮭魚的。隻見他把那個“爆破筒”緊緊地綁在一團棉花裏，塞進導火索並點燃它，然後立刻把它扔進了水灣。
這時，“女戰神”像閃電一樣跳進水裏去追那個“爆破筒”。我高興得忘了形，竟然尖叫起來。克萊沃豪斯朝它大喊著，但是沒有一點兒用。盡管他用泥塊和石子朝它扔去，它依然義無反顧地遊了過去，直到抓到那根“木棍”，然後將其叨在嘴裏。當“女戰神”轉身朝岸上遊來時，克萊沃豪斯破天荒地頭一次意識到了危險，撒腿就向遠處跑。正如我預測和計劃的那樣，狗上岸後，就緊追克萊沃豪斯不放。噢，我想告訴你們的是，那簡直是太棒了！
在此之前我已經描述過這裏的地形，那個水灣位於一個圓形山穀中，水灣的上遊和下遊遍地是墊腳的石頭。於是，克萊沃豪斯和“女戰神”踩著那些墊腳石追來繞去，上躥下跳的。如果不是親眼所見，我簡直不敢相信那樣一個笨拙的人竟然跑得那麽快。但是，盡管他跑得那麽快，“女戰神”卻在他後麵緊追不舍，並且離他越來越近。正當要追上他時，克萊沃豪斯使出全身的力氣猛地向前一躍，“女戰神”也隨之一躍，鼻子正好碰到他的膝蓋。猛然間，一道火光閃過，一股煙柱衝天而起，可怕的爆炸終於發生了。等到能看清楚時，發現地麵上除了一個大坑外，之前的那個男人和那條狗都已經灰飛煙滅。
“非法捕魚時死於意外事故”——這是驗屍員下的結論。我就是這樣幹淨利索、天衣無縫地除掉了約翰·克萊沃豪斯，並得意於自己的這種辦事風格。這件事既沒有拖泥帶水，也不野蠻凶殘，因此，在整個實施過程中我沒必要感到愧疚，我敢肯定你也會這樣想。從此，他惡魔般的狂笑再也不會回**在群山之間了，他那張肥胖的圓臉再也不會惹我心煩了。現在，我的生活又恢複了平靜，連晚上做夢都覺得很香了。
John Claverhouse was a moon-faced man. You know the kind， cheek-bones wide apart， chin and forehead melting into the cheeks to complete the perfect round， and the nose， broad and pudgy， equidistant from the circumference， flattened against the very centre of the face like a dough-ball upon the ceiling.Perhaps that is why I hated him， for truly he had become an offense to my eyes， and I believed the earth to be cumbered with his presence.
Be that as it may， I hated John Claverhouse. Not that he had done me what society would consider a wrong or an ill turn.Far from it.The evil was of a deeper， subtler sort；so elusive， so intangible， as to defy clear， definite analysis in words.We all experience such things at some period in our lives.For the first time we see a certain individual， one who the very instant before we did not dream existed；and yet， at the first moment of meeting， we say："I do not like that man."Why do we not like him？Ah， we do not know why；we know only that we do not.We have taken a dislike， that is all.And so have I with John Claverhouse.
What right had such a man to be happy？Yet he was an optimist. He was always gleeful and laughing.All things were always all right， curse him！Ah！How it grated on my soul that he should be so happy！Other men could laugh， and it did not bother me.I even used to laugh myself-before I met John Claverhouse.
But his laugh！It irritated me， maddened me， as nothing else under the sun could irritate or madden me. It haunted me， gripped hold of me， and would not let me go.It was a huge， gargantuan laugh.Waking or sleeping it was always with me， whirring and jarring across my heart-strings like an enormous rasp.At break of day it came whooping across the fields to spoil my pleasant morning revery.Under the aching noonday glare， when the green things drooped and the birds withdrew to the depths of the forest， and all nature drowsed， his great"Ha！ha！"and"Ho！ho！"rose up to the sky and challenged the sun.And at black midnight， from the lonely cross-roads where he turned from town into his own place， came his plaguey cachinnations to rouse me from my sleep and make me writhe and clench my nails into my palms.
I went forth privily in the night-time， and turned his cattle into his fields， and in the morning heard his whooping laugh as he drove them back again."It is nothing，"he said，"the poor， dumb beasties are not to be blamed for straying into fatter pastures."
He had a dog he called"Mars，"a big， splendid brute， part deer-hound and part blood-hound， and resembling both. Mars was a great delight to him， and they were always together.But I bided my time， and one day， when opportunity was ripe， lured the animal away and settled for him with strychnine and beefsteak.It made positively no impression on John Claverhouse.His laugh was as hearty and frequent as ever， and his face as much like the full moon as it always had been.
Then I set fire to his haystacks and his barn. But the next morning， being Sunday， he went forth blithe and cheerful."Where are you going？"I asked him， as he went by the cross-roads."Trout，"he said， and his face beamed like a full moon."I just dote on trout."
Was there ever such an impossible man！His whole harvest had gone up in his haystacks and barn. It was uninsured， I knew.And yet， in the face of famine and the rigorous winter， he went out gayly in quest of a mess of trout， forsooth， because he"doted"on them！Had gloom but rested， no matter how lightly， on his brow， or had his bovine countenance grown long and serious and less like the moon， or had he removed that smile but once from off his face， I am sure I could have forgiven him for existing.But no， he grew only more cheerful under misfortune.
I insulted him. He looked at me in slow and smiling surprise."I fight you？Why？"he asked slowly.And then he laughed."You are so funny！Ho！ho！You'll be the death of me！Hee！hee！hee！Oh！Ho！ho！ho！
What would you？It was past endurance. By the blood of Judas， how I hated him！Then there was that name-Claverhouse！What a name！Wasn't it absurd？Claverhouse！Merciful heaven， why Claverhouse？Again and again I asked myself that question.I should not have minded Smith， or Brown， or Jones-but Claverhouse！I leave it to you.Repeat it to yourself-Claverhouse.Just listen to the ridiculous sound of it-Claverhouse！Should a man live with such a name？I ask of you."No，"you say.And"No"said I.
But I bethought me of his mortgage. What of his crops and barn destroyed， I knew he would be unable to meet it.So I got a shrewd， close-mouthed， tight-fisted money-lender to get the mortgage transferred to him.I did not appear but through this agent I forced the foreclosure， and but few days were given John Claverhouse to remove his goods and chattels from the premises.Then I strolled down to see how he took it， for he had lived there upward of twenty years.But he met me with his saucer-eyes twinkling， and the light glowing and spreading in his face till it was as a full-risen moon.
"Ha！ha！ha！"he laughed."The funniest tike， that youngster of mine！Did you ever hear the like？Let me tell you. He was down playing by the edge of the river when a piece of the bank caved in and splashed him.'O papa！'he cried，'a great big puddle flew up and hit me.'"
He stopped and waited for me to join him in his infernal glee.
"I don't see any laugh in it，"I said shortly， and I know my face went sour.
He regarded me with wonderment， and then came the damnable light， glowing and spreading， as I have described it， till his face shone soft and warm， like the summer moon， and then the laugh-"Ha！ha！That's funny！You don't see it， eh？Hee！hee！Ho！ho！ho！He doesn't see it！Why， look here. You know a puddle."
But I turned on my heel and left him. That was the last.I could stand it no longer.The thing must end right there， I thought， curse him！The earth should be quit of him.And as I went over the hill， I could hear his monstrous laugh reverberating against the sky.
Now， I pride myself on doing things neatly， and when I resolved to kill John Claverhouse I had it in mind to do so in such fashion that I should not look back upon it and feel ashamed. I hate bungling， and I hate brutality.To me there is something repugnant in merely striking a man with one's naked fist-faugh！it is sickening！So， to shoot， or stab， or club John Claverhouse(oh， that name！)did not appeal to me.And not only was I impelled to do it neatly and artistically， but also in such manner that not the slightest possible suspicion could be directed against me.
To this end I bent my intellect， and， after a week of profound incubation， I hatched the scheme. Then I set to work.I bought a water spaniel bitch， five months old， and devoted my whole attention to her training.Had any one spied upon me， they would have remarked that this training consisted entirely of one thing-retrieving.I taught the dog， which I called"Bellona，"to fetch sticks I threw into the water， and not only to fetch， but to fetch at once， without mouthing or playing with them.The point was that she was to stop for nothing， but to deliver the stick in all haste.I made a practice of running away and leaving her to chase me， with the stick in her mouth， till she caught me.She was a bright animal， and took to the game with such eagerness that I was soon content.
After that， at the first casual opportunity， I presented Bellona to John Claverhouse. I knew what I was about， for I was aware of a little weakness of his， and of a little private sinning of which he was regularly and inveterately guilty.
"No，"he said， when I placed the end of the rope in his hand."No， you don't mean it."And his mouth opened wide and he grinned all over his damnable moon-face.
"I-I have a kind of thought， somehow， you didn't like me."he explained."Wasn't it funny for me to make such a mistake？"And at the thought he held his sides with laughter.
"What is her name？"he managed to ask between paroxysms."Bellona，"I said."Hee！hee！"he tittered."What a funny name."
I gritted my teeth， for his mirth put them on edge， and snapped out between them，"She was the wife of Mars， you know."
Then the light of the full moon began to suffuse his face， until he exploded with："That was my other dog. Well， I guess she's a widow now.Oh！Ho！ho！E！hee！hee！Ho！"he whooped after me， and I turned and fled swiftly over the hill.
The week passed by， and on Saturday evening I said to him，"You go away Monday， don't you？"
He nodded his head and grinned.
"Then you won't have another chance to get a mess of those trout you just'dote'on."
But he did not notice the sneer."Oh， I don't know，"he chuckled."I'm going up tomorrow to try pretty hard."
Thus was assurance made doubly sure， and I went back to my house hugging myself with rapture.
Early next morning I saw him go by with a dip-net and gunnysack， and Bellona trotting at his heels. I knew where he was bound， and cut out by the back pasture and climbed through the underbrush to the top of the mountain.Keeping carefully out of sight， I followed the crest along for a couple of miles to a natural amphitheatre in the hills， where the little river raced down out of a gorge and stopped for breath in a large and placid rock-bound pool.That was the spot！I sat down on the croup of the mountain， where I could see all that occurred， and lighted my pipe.
Many minutes had passed， John Claverhouse came plodding up the bed of the stream. Bellona was ambling about him， and they were in high feather， her short， snappy barks mingling with his deeper chest-notes.Arrived at the pool， he threw down the dip-net and sack， and drew from his hip-pocket what looked like a large， fat candle.But I knew it to be a stick of"giant"；for such was his method of catching trout.He dynamited them.He attached the fuse by wrapping the"giant"tightly in a piece of cotton.Then he ignited the fuse and tossed the explosive into the pool.
Like a flash， Bellona was into the pool after it. I could have shrieked aloud for joy.Claverhouse yelled at her， but without avail.He pelted her with clods and rocks， but she swam steadily on till she got the stick of"giant"in her mouth.When she whirled about and headed for the shore， then， for the first time， he realized his danger， and started to run.As foreseen and planned by me， she made the bank and took out after him.Oh， I tell you， it was great！
As I have said， the pool lay in a sort of amphitheatre. Above and below， the stream could be crossed by stepping-stones.And around and around， up and down and across the stones， raced Claverhouse and Bellona.I could never have believed that such an ungainly man could run so fast.But run he did， Bellona hot-footed after him， and gaining.And then， just as she caught up， he in full stride， and she leaping with nose at his knee， there was a sudden flash， a burst of smoke， a terrific detonation， and where man and dog had been the instant before there was nothing to be seen but a big hole in the ground.
"Death from accident while engaged in illegal fishing."That was the verdict of the coroner's jury；and that is why I pride myself on the neat and artistic way in which I finished off John Claverhouse. There was no bungling， no brutality；nothing of which to be ashamed in the whole transaction， as I am sure you will agree.No more does his infernal laugh go echoing among the hills， and no more does his fat moon-face rise up to vex me.My days are peaceful now， and my night's sleep deep.