第 37 节
作者:
卡车 更新:2021-02-19 00:08 字数:9321
The Wolf is gone。 The last relic of him was lost in the burning
Grammar School; but to this day the sexton of St。 Boniface Church avers
that the tolling bell on Christmas Eve never fails to provoke that weird and
melancholy Wolf…cry from the wooded graveyard a hundred steps away;
where they laid his Little Jim; the only being on earth that ever met him
with the touch of love。
THE LEGEND OF THE WHITE REINDEER
Skoal! Skoal! For Norway Skoal! Sing ye the song of the Vand…dam
troll。 When I am hiding Norway's luck On a White Storbuk Comes riding;
riding。
Bleak; black; deep; and cold is Utrovand; a long pocket of glacial
water; a crack in the globe; a wrinkle in the high Norwegian mountains;
blocked with another mountain; and flooded with a frigid flood; three
thousand feet above its Mother Sea; and yet no closer to its Father Sun。
Around its cheerless shore is a belt of stunted trees; that sends a long
tail up the high valley; till it dwindles away to sticks and moss; as it also
does some half…way up the granite hills that rise a thousand feet;
encompassing the lake。 This is the limit of trees; the end of the growth of
wood。 The birch and willow are the last to drop out of the long fight with
frost。 Their miniature thickets are noisy with the cries of Fieldfare; Pipit;
and Ptarmigan; but these are left behind on nearing the upper plateau;
where shade of rock and sough of wind are all that take their place。 The
chilly Hoifjeld rolls away; a rugged; rocky plain; with great patches of
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snow in all the deeper hollows; and the distance blocked by snowy peaks
that rise and roll and whiter gleam; till; dim and dazzling in the north;
uplifts the Jotunheim; the home of spirits; of glaciers; and of the lasting
snow。
The treeless stretch is one vast attest to the force of heat。 Each failure
of the sun by one degree is marked by a lower realm of life。 The northern
slope of each hollow is less boreal than its southern side。 The pine and
spruce have given out long ago; the mountain…ash went next; the birch and
willow climbed up half the slope。 Here; nothing grows but creeping plants
and moss。 The plain itself is pale grayish green; one vast expanse of
reindeer…moss; but warmed at spots into orange by great beds of
polytrichum; and; in sunnier nooks; deepened to a herbal green。 The rocks
that are scattered everywhere are of a delicate lilac; but each is variegated
with spreading frill…edged plasters of gray…green lichen or orange powder…
streaks and beauty…spots of black。 These rocks have great power to hold
the heat; so that each of them is surrounded by a little belt of heat…loving
plants that could not otherwise live so high。 Dwarfed representatives of the
birch and willow both are here; hugging the genial rock; as an old French
habitant hugs his stove in winter…time; spreading their branches over it;
instead of in the frigid air。 A foot away is seen a chillier belt of heath; and
farther off; colder; where none else can grow; is the omnipresent gray…
green reindeer…moss that gives its color to the upland。 The hollows are still
filled with snow; though now it is June。 But each of these white expanses
is shrinking; spending itself in ice…cold streams that somehow reach the
lake。 These sn*…flaks show no sign of life; not even the 'red…snow' tinge;
and around each is a belt of barren earth; to testify that life and warmth
can never be divorced。
Birdless and lifeless; the gray…green snow…pied waste extends over all
the stretch that is here between the timber…line and the snow…line; above
which winter never quits its hold。 Farther north both come lower; till the
timber…line is at the level of the sea; and all the land is in that treeless belt
called Tundra in the Old World; and Barrens in the New; and that
everywhere is the Home of the Reindeerthe Realm of the Reindeer…moss。
I
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In and out it flew; in and out; over the water and under; as the
Varsimle'; the leader doe of the Reindeer herd; walked past on the vernal
banks; and it sang:
〃Skoal! Skoal! Gamle Norge Skoal!〃 and more about 〃a White
Reindeer and Norway's good luck;〃 as though the singer were gifted with
special insight。
When old Sveggum built the Vand…dam on the Lower Hoifjeld; just
above the Utrovand; and set his ribesten a…going; he supposed that he was
the owner of it all。 But some one was there before him。 And in and out of
the spouting stream this some one dashed; and sang songs that he made up
to fit the place and the time。 He skipped from skjaeke to skjaeke of the
wheel; and did many things which Sveggum could set down only to luck
whatever that is; and some said that Sveggum's luck was a Wheel…troll; a
Water…fairy; with a brown coat and a white beard; one that lived on land or
in water; as he pleased。
But most of Sveggum's neighbors saw only a Fossekal; the little
Waterfall Bird that came each year and danced in the stream; or dived
where the pool is deep。 And maybe both were right; for some of the very
oldest peasants will tell you that a Fairy…troll may take the form of a man
or the form of a bird。 Only this bird lived a life no bird can live; and sang
songs that men never had sung in Norway。 Wonderful vision had he; and
sights he saw that man never saw。 For the Fieldfare would build before
him; and the Lemming fed its brood under his very eyes。 Eyes were they
to see; for the dark speck on Suletind that man could barely glimpse was a
Reindeer; with half…shed coat; to him and the green slime on the Vandren
was beautiful green pasture with a banquet spread。
Oh; Man is so blind; and makes himself so hated! But Fossekal
harmed none; so none were afraid of him。 Only he sang; and his songs
were sometimes mixed with fun and prophecy; or perhaps a little scorn。
From the top of the tassel…birch he could mark the course of the Vand…
dam stream past the Nystuen hamlet to lose itself in the gloomy waters of
Utrovand or by a higher flight he could see across the barren upland that
rolled to Jotunheim in the north。
The great awakening was on now。 The springtime had already reached
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the woods; the valleys were a…throb with life; new birds coming from the
south; winter sleepers reappearing; and the Reindeer that had wintered in
the lower woods should soon again be seen on the uplands。
Not without a fight do the Frost Giants give up the place so long their
own; a great battle was in progress; but the Sun was slowly; surely
winning; and driving them back to their Jotunheim。 At every hollow and
shady place they made another stand; or sneaked back by night; only to
suffer another defeat。 Hard hitters these; as they are stubborn fighters;
many a granite rock was split and shattered by their blows in reckless fight;
so that its inner fleshy tints were shown and warmly gleamed among the
gray…green rocks that dotted the plain; like the countless flocks of Thor。
More or less of these may be found at every place of battle…brunt; and
straggled along the slope of Suletind was a host that reached for half a
mile。 But stay! these moved。 Not rocks were they; but living creatures。
They drifted along erratically; yet one way; all up the wind。 They
swept out of sight in a hollow; to reappear on a ridge much nearer; and
serried there against the sky; we marked their branching horns; and knew
them for the Reindeer in their home。
The band came drifting our way; feeding like Sheep; grunting like only
themselves。 Each one found a grazing…spot; stood there till it was cleared
off; then trotted on crackling hoofs to the front in search of another。 So the
band was ever changing in rank and form。 But