to-kill-a-mockingbird-by-harper-lee-pdf-free-download (1)
“Stay inside, son,” said Atticus. “Where is he, Cal?”“He oughta be here by now,” said Calpurnia, pointing down the street.“Not runnin‘, is he?” asked Mr. Tate.“Naw sir, he’s in the twitchin‘ stage, Mr. Heck.”“Should we go after him, Heck?” asked Atticus.“We better wait, Mr. Finch. They usually go in a straight line, but you nevercan tell. He might follow the curve—hope he does or he’ll go straight in theRadley back yard. Let’s wait a minute.”“Don’t think he’ll get in the Radley yard,” said Atticus. “Fence’ll stop him.He’ll probably follow the road . . .”I thought mad dogs foamed at the mouth, galloped, leaped and lunged atthroats, and I thought they did it in August. Had Tim Johnson behaved thus, Iwould have been less frightened.Nothing is more deadly than a deserted, waiting street. The trees were still, themockingbirds were silent, the carpenters at Miss Maudie’s house had vanished. Iheard Mr. Tate sniff, then blow his nose. I saw him shift his gun to the crook ofhis arm. I saw Miss Stephanie Crawford’s face framed in the glass window ofher front door. Miss Maudie appeared and stood beside her. Atticus put his footon the rung of a chair and rubbed his hand slowly down the side of his thigh.“There he is,” he said softly.Tim Johnson came into sight, walking dazedly in the inner rim of the curveparallel to the Radley house.“Look at him,” whispered Jem. “Mr. Heck said they walked in a straight line.He can’t even stay in the road.”“He looks more sick than anything,” I said.“Let anything get in front of him and he’ll come straight at it.”Mr. Tate put his hand to his forehead and leaned forward. “He’s got it allright, Mr. Finch.”Tim Johnson was advancing at a snail’s pace, but he was not playing orsniffing at foliage: he seemed dedicated to one course and motivated by aninvisible force that was inching him toward us. We could see him shiver like ahorse shedding flies; his jaw opened and shut; he was alist, but he was beingpulled gradually toward us.“He’s lookin‘ for a place to die,” said Jem.
Mr. Tate turned around. “He’s far from dead, Jem, he hasn’t got started yet.”Tim Johnson reached the side street that ran in front of the Radley Place, andwhat remained of his poor mind made him pause and seem to consider whichroad he would take. He made a few hesitant steps and stopped in front of theRadley gate; then he tried to turn around, but was having difficulty.Atticus said, “He’s within range, Heck. You better get him before he goesdown the side street—Lord knows who’s around the corner. Go inside, Cal.”Calpurnia opened the screen door, latched it behind her, then unlatched it andheld onto the hook. She tried to block Jem and me with her body, but we lookedout from beneath her arms.“Take him, Mr. Finch.” Mr. Tate handed the rifle to Atticus; Jem and I nearlyfainted.“Don’t waste time, Heck,” said Atticus. “Go on.”“Mr. Finch, this is a one-shot job.”Atticus shook his head vehemently: “Don’t just stand there, Heck! He won’twait all day for you—”“For God’s sake, Mr. Finch, look where he is! Miss and you’ll go straight intothe Radley house! I can’t shoot that well and you know it!”“I haven’t shot a gun in thirty years—”Mr. Tate almost threw the rifle at Atticus. “I’d feel mighty comfortable if youdid now,” he said.In a fog, Jem and I watched our father take the gun and walk out into themiddle of the street. He walked quickly, but I thought he moved like anunderwater swimmer: time had slowed to a nauseating crawl.When Atticus raised his glasses Calpurnia murmured, “Sweet Jesus help him,”and put her hands to her cheeks.Atticus pushed his glasses to his forehead; they slipped down, and he droppedthem in the street. In the silence, I heard them crack. Atticus rubbed his eyes andchin; we saw him blink hard.In front of the Radley gate, Tim Johnson had made up what was left of hismind. He had finally turned himself around, to pursue his original course up ourstreet. He made two steps forward, then stopped and raised his head. We saw hisbody go rigid.With movements so swift they seemed simultaneous, Atticus’s hand yanked aball-tipped lever as he brought the gun to his shoulder.
- Page 45 and 46: blasts from beneath with a poisonou
- Page 47 and 48: My confidence in pulpit Gospel less
- Page 49 and 50: stick on the window sill, at least.
- Page 51 and 52: Dill said, “We thought he might e
- Page 53 and 54: go for a walk.”He sounded fishy t
- Page 55 and 56: the step squeaked. He stood still,
- Page 57 and 58: “Jem, Scout,” said Atticus, “
- Page 59 and 60: waited for his light to go on, stra
- Page 61 and 62: you’re gonna do lest they live in
- Page 63 and 64: “Don’t know. I’ll show it to
- Page 65 and 66: “Why no, son, I don’t think so.
- Page 67 and 68: The telephone rang and Atticus left
- Page 69 and 70: another load, and another until he
- Page 71 and 72: By then he did not have to tell me.
- Page 73 and 74: not enough. I pulled free of it and
- Page 75 and 76: “Grieving, child? Why, I hated th
- Page 77 and 78: 9“You can just take that back, bo
- Page 79 and 80: under his chin. He put his arms aro
- Page 81 and 82: says she’s been cussing fluently
- Page 83 and 84: in it? It’ll drive him nuts.”Ta
- Page 85 and 86: “He is not!” I roared. “I don
- Page 87 and 88: Uncle Jack said if I talked like th
- Page 89 and 90: her.”Atticus chuckled. “She ear
- Page 91 and 92: 10Atticus was feeble: he was nearly
- Page 93 and 94: “Well nothing. Nothing—it seems
- Page 95: Calpurnia stared, then grabbed us b
- Page 99 and 100: crazy. I’d hate to see Harry John
- Page 101 and 102: 11When we were small, Jem and I con
- Page 103 and 104: the reform school before next week,
- Page 105 and 106: “Jem,” he said, “are you resp
- Page 107 and 108: The following Monday afternoon Jem
- Page 109 and 110: lot.”“She can’t help that. Wh
- Page 111 and 112: Jem’s chin would come up, and he
- Page 113 and 114: PART TWO
- Page 115 and 116: write.The fact that I had a permane
- Page 117 and 118: Purchase because it was paid for fr
- Page 119 and 120: windows.He said, “Brethren and si
- Page 121 and 122: intended to sweat the amount due ou
- Page 123 and 124: you take off the fact that men can
- Page 125 and 126: 13"Put my bag in the front bedroom,
- Page 127 and 128: When she settled in with us and lif
- Page 129 and 130: way: the older citizens, the presen
- Page 131 and 132: Stunned, Jem and I looked at each o
- Page 133 and 134: I remembered something. “Yessum,
- Page 135 and 136: now, for my edification and instruc
- Page 137 and 138: engaged to wash the camel. He trave
- Page 139 and 140: I put on my pajamas, read for a whi
- Page 141 and 142: 15After many telephone calls, much
- Page 143 and 144: you, didn’t they?”Atticus lower
- Page 145 and 146: correct to believe one’s mind inc
“Stay inside, son,” said Atticus. “Where is he, Cal?”
“He oughta be here by now,” said Calpurnia, pointing down the street.
“Not runnin‘, is he?” asked Mr. Tate.
“Naw sir, he’s in the twitchin‘ stage, Mr. Heck.”
“Should we go after him, Heck?” asked Atticus.
“We better wait, Mr. Finch. They usually go in a straight line, but you never
can tell. He might follow the curve—hope he does or he’ll go straight in the
Radley back yard. Let’s wait a minute.”
“Don’t think he’ll get in the Radley yard,” said Atticus. “Fence’ll stop him.
He’ll probably follow the road . . .”
I thought mad dogs foamed at the mouth, galloped, leaped and lunged at
throats, and I thought they did it in August. Had Tim Johnson behaved thus, I
would have been less frightened.
Nothing is more deadly than a deserted, waiting street. The trees were still, the
mockingbirds were silent, the carpenters at Miss Maudie’s house had vanished. I
heard Mr. Tate sniff, then blow his nose. I saw him shift his gun to the crook of
his arm. I saw Miss Stephanie Crawford’s face framed in the glass window of
her front door. Miss Maudie appeared and stood beside her. Atticus put his foot
on the rung of a chair and rubbed his hand slowly down the side of his thigh.
“There he is,” he said softly.
Tim Johnson came into sight, walking dazedly in the inner rim of the curve
parallel to the Radley house.
“Look at him,” whispered Jem. “Mr. Heck said they walked in a straight line.
He can’t even stay in the road.”
“He looks more sick than anything,” I said.
“Let anything get in front of him and he’ll come straight at it.”
Mr. Tate put his hand to his forehead and leaned forward. “He’s got it all
right, Mr. Finch.”
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 toward us. We could see him shiver like a
horse shedding flies; his jaw opened and shut; he was alist, but he was being
pulled gradually toward us.
“He’s lookin‘ for a place to die,” said Jem.
Change language