第 5 节
作者:负债赌博      更新:2024-05-25 15:05      字数:9322
  the flat of his foot。     This was because it was a prehensile foot; more like a
  hand than a foot。        The great toe; instead of being in line with the other
  toes; opposed them; like a thumb; and its opposition to the other toes was
  what enabled him to get a grip with his foot。              This was why he could not
  walk on the flat of his foot。
  But    his  appearance      was   no   more    unusual    than   the  manner     of  his
  coming; there to my mother and me as we perched above the angry wild
  pigs。    He came through the trees; leaping from limb to limb and from tree
  to tree; and he came swiftly。          I can see him now; in my wake…a…day life;
  as   I   write   this;   swinging   along   through   the   trees;   a   four…handed;   hairy
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  creature; howling with rage; pausing now and again to beat his chest with
  his clenched fist; leaping ten…and…fifteen…foot gaps; catching a branch with
  one hand and swinging on across another gap to catch with his other hand
  and go on; never hesitating; never at a loss as to how to proceed on his
  arboreal way。
  And   as   I   watched   him   I   felt   in   my   own   being;   in   my   very   muscles
  themselves;   the   surge   and   thrill   of   desire   to   go   leaping   from   bough   to
  bough; and I felt also the guarantee of the latent power in that being and in
  those   muscles   of   mine。     And   why   not?   Little   boys   watch   their   fathers
  swing axes and fell trees; and feel in themselves that some day they; too;
  will swing axes and fell trees。         And so with me。        The life that was in me
  was constituted to do what my father did; and it whispered to me secretly
  and ambitiously of aerial paths and forest flights。
  At last my father joined us。        He was extremely angry。 I remember the
  out…thrust of his protruding underlip as he glared down at the wild pigs。
  He snarled something like a dog; and I remember that his eye…teeth were
  large; like fangs; and that they impressed me tremendously。
  His conduct served only the more to infuriate the pigs。 He broke off
  twigs   and   small   branches   and   flung   them   down   upon   our   enemies。   He
  even hung by one hand; tantalizingly just beyond reach; and mocked them
  as they gnashed their tusks with impotent rage。              Not content with this; he
  broke off a stout branch; and; holding on with one hand and foot; jabbed
  the   infuriated   beasts   in   the   sides   and   whacked   them   across   their   noses。
  Needless to state; my mother and I enjoyed the sport。
  But one tires of all good things; and in the end; my father; chuckling
  maliciously the while; led the way across the trees。 Now  it was that   my
  ambitions ebbed away; and I became timid; holding tightly to my mother
  as she climbed and swung through space。                I remember when the branch
  broke with her weight。         She had made a wide leap; and with the snap of
  the wood I was overwhelmed with the sickening consciousness of falling
  through space; the pair of us。         The forest and the sunshine on the rustling
  leaves    vanished     from   my    eyes。  I  had   a  fading   glimpse     of  my   father
  abruptly arresting his progress to look; and then all was blackness。
  The next moment I was awake; in my sheeted bed; sweating; trembling;
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  nauseated。      The window was up; and a cool air was blowing through the
  room。     The night…lamp was burning calmly。              And because of this I take
  it that the wild pigs did not get us; that we never fetched bottom; else I
  should not be here now; a thousand centuries after; to remember the event。
  And now put yourself in my place for a moment。                Walk with me a bit
  in   my    tender   childhood;    bed   with   me    a  night   and   imagine    yourself
  dreaming       such    incomprehensible        horrors。      Remember        I   was    an
  inexperienced   child。      I   had   never   seen   a   wild   boar   in   my   life。   For   that
  matter I had never seen a domesticated pig。             The nearest approach to one
  that I had seen was breakfast bacon sizzling in its fat。            And yet here; real
  as life; wild boars dashed through my dreams; and I; with fantastic parents;
  swung through the lofty tree…spaces。
  Do you wonder that I was frightened and oppressed by my nightmare…
  ridden nights?      I was accursed。      And; worst of all; I was afraid to tell。        I
  do not know why; except that I had a feeling of guilt; though I knew no
  better of what I was guilty。        So it was; through long years; that I suffered
  in silence; until I came to man's estate and learned the why and wherefore
  of my dreams。
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  CHAPTER IV
  There is one puzzling thing about these prehistoric memories of mine。
  It is the vagueness of the time element。          I lo not always know the order of
  events;or can I tell; between some events; whether one; two; or four or
  five years have elapsed。         I can only roughly tell the passage of time by
  judging the changes in the appearance and pursuits of my fellows。
  Also;   I   can   apply  the   logic   of   events   to   the   various   happenings。   For
  instance; there is no doubt whatever that my mother and I were treed by
  the wild pigs and fled and fell in the days before I made the acquaintance
  of Lop…Ear; who became what I may call my boyhood chum。                        And it is
  just   as   conclusive   that   between   these   two   periods   I   must   have   left   my
  mother。
  I have no memory of my father than the one I have given。                 Never; in
  the years that followed; did he reappear。          And from my knowledge of the
  times; the only explanation possible lies in that he perished shortly after
  the adventure with the wild pigs。         That it must have been an untimely end;
  there is no discussion。       He was in full vigor; and only sudden and violent
  death could have taken him off。          But I know not the manner of his going…
  …whether he   was drowned   in the   river; or   was swallowed by a   snake;  or
  went     into  the   stomach    of   old  Saber…Tooth;     the   tiger;  is  beyond    my
  knowledge。
  For know that I remember only the things I saw myself; with my own
  eyes; in those prehistoric days。         If my mother knew my father's end; she
  never told me。       For that matter I doubt if she had a vocabulary adequate
  to convey such information。          Perhaps; all told; the Folk in that day had a
  vocabulary of thirty or forty sounds。
  I call them SOUNDS; rather than WORDS; because sounds they were
  primarily。     They   had   no   fixed   values;   to   be   altered   by   adjectives   and
  adverbs。      These latter were  tools of speech not   yet invented。 Instead   of
  qualifying     nouns    or  verbs   by   the  use   of  adjectives   and   adverbs;    we
  qualified     sounds   by   intonation;   by   changes    in  quantity   and   pitch;   by
  retarding     and   by  accelerating。     The    length   of   time  employed      in  the
  utterance of a particular sound shaded its meaning。
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  We had no conjugation。          One judged the tense by the context。             We
  talked    only   concrete    things  because    we   thought    only   concrete    things。
  Also; we depended largely on pantomime。                The simplest abstraction was
  practically beyond our thinking; and when one did happen to think one; he
  was hard put to communicate it to his fellows。             There were no sounds for
  it。   He was pressing beyond the limits of his vocabulary。               If he invented
  sounds for it; his fellows did not understand the sounds。              Then it was that
  he fell back on pantomime; illustrating the thought wherever possible and
  at the same time repeating the new sound over and over again。
  Thus    language     grew。   By    the   few   sounds    we   possessed    we   were
  enabled to think a short distance beyond those sounds; then came the need
  for   new    sounds    wherewith      to  express    the  new    thought。    Sometimes;
  however;      we   thought    too  long   a  distance    in  advance    of  our   sounds;
  managed      to  achieve    abstractions    (dim   ones   I  grant);  which    we   failed
  utterly to make known to other folk。          A