第 38 节
作者:卡车      更新:2021-02-19 00:08      字数:9321
  off; then trotted on crackling hoofs to the front in search of another。 So the
  band   was   ever   changing   in   rank   and   form。   But   one   there   was   that   was
  always      at  or  near   the   vana   large   and    well…favored     Simle';    or  Hind。
  However much the band might change and spread; she was in the forefront;
  and the observant would soon have seen signs that she had an influence
  over the general movementthat she; indeed; was the leader。 Even the big
  Bucks;   in   their   huge   velvet…clad   antlers;   admitted   this   untitular   control;
  and    if   one;   in  a   spirit   of   independence;   evinced    a   disposition    to  lead
  elsewhere; he soon found himself uncomfortably alone。
  The Varsimle'; or leading Hind; had kept the band hovering; for the last
  week or two;  along   the timber…line;  going higher  each day  to   the  baring
  uplands; where the snow was clearing and the deer…flies were blown away。
  As the pasture zone had climbed she had followed in her daily foraging;
  returning to the sheltered woods at sundown; for the wild things fear the
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  cold night wind even as man does。 But now the deer…flies were rife in the
  woods; and the rocky hillside nooks warm enough for the nightly bivouac;
  so the woodland was deserted。
  Probably the   leader   of   a band of   animals   does   not   consciously  pride
  itself on leadership; yet has an uncomfortable sensation when not followed。
  But   there   are   times   with   all   when   solitude   is   sought。  The   Varsimle'   had
  been   fat   and   well   through   the  winter;  yet   now  was   listless;  and   lingered
  with drooping head as the grazing herd moved past her。
  Sometimes   she   stood   gazing   blankly   while   the   unchewed   bunch   of
  moss hung from her mouth; then roused to go on to the front as before; but
  the spells of vacant stare and the hankering to be alone grew stronger。 She
  turned downward to seek the birch woods; but the whole band turned with
  her。 She stood stock…still; with head down。 They grazed and grunted past;
  leaving her like   a statue  against the hillside。 When   all   had gone on; she
  slunk quietly away; walked a few steps; looked about; made a pretense of
  grazing; snuffed the ground; looked after the herd; and scanned the hills;
  then downward fared toward the sheltering woods。
  Once   as   she   peered   over   a   bank   she   sighted   another   Simle';   a   doe
  Reindeer; uneasily wandering by itself。 But the Varsimle' wished not   for
  company。   She   did   not   know   why;   but   she   felt   that   she   must   hide   away
  somewhere。
  She   stood   still   until   the   other   had   passed   on;   then   turned   aside;   and
  went with faster steps and less wavering; till she came in view of Utrovand;
  away   down   by   the   little   stream   that   turns   old   Sveggum's   ribesten。   Up
  above the dam she waded across the limpid stream; for deep…laid and sure
  is   the   instinct   of   a   wild   animal   to   put   running   water   between   itself   and
  those it shuns。 Then; on the farther bank; now bare and slightly green; she
  turned; and passing in and out among the twisted trunks; she left the noisy
  Vand…dam。 On the higher ground beyond she paused; looked this way and
  that; went on a little; but returned; and here; completely shut in by softly
  painted rocks; and birches wearing little springtime hangers; she seemed
  inclined to rest; yet not to rest; for she stood uneasily this way and that;
  driving   away   the   flies   that   settled   on   her   legs;   heeding   not    at   all   the
  growing grass; and thinking she was hid from all the world。
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  But nothing escapes the Fossekal。 He had seen her leave the herd; and
  now he sat on a gorgeous rock that overhung; and sang as though he had
  waited   for   this   and   knew  that   the   fate   of   the   nation   might   turn   on   what
  passed in this far glen。 He sang:
  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。
  There   are   no   Storks   in   Norway;   and   yet   an   hour   later   there   was   a
  wonderful little Reindeer lying beside the Varsimle'。 She was brushing his
  coat; licking and mothering him; proud and happy as though this was the
  first little Renskalv ever born。 There might be hundreds born in the herd
  that month; but probably no more like this one; for he was snowy white;
  and the song of the singer on the painted rock was about
  Good luck; good luck; And a White Storbuk;
  as though he foresaw clearly the part that the White Calf was to play
  when he grew to be a Storbuk。
  But   another   wonder   now   came   to   pass。   Before   an   hour;   there   was   a
  second little Calfa brown one this time。 Strange things happen; and hard
  things     are   done    when     they   needs    must。    Two     hours    later;  when     the
  Varsimle'   led   the   White   Calf   away   from   the   place;   there   was   no   Brown
  Calf; only some flattened rags with calf…hair on them。
  The     mother    was    wise:    better   one   strongling     than   two    weaklings。
  Within a few days the Simle' once more led the band; and running by her
  side   was   the White   Calf。 The   Varsimle'   considered   him  in   all   things;   so
  that   he   really   set   the   pace   for   the   band;   which   suited   very   well   all   the
  mothers   that   now   had   Calves   with   them。   Big;   strong;   and   wise   was   the
  Varsimle'; in the pride of her strength; and this White Calf was the flower
  of her prime。 He often ran ahead of his mother as she led the herd; and Rol;
  coming on them  one day;  laughed   aloud at the   sight as they  passed;   old
  and young; fat Simle' and antlered Storbuk; a great brown herd; all led; as
  it seemed; by a little White Calf。
  So   they  drifted   away  to   the   high   mountains;  to   be   gone   all   summer。
  〃Gone   to   be   taught   by   the   spirits   who   dwell   where   the   Black        Loon
  laughs on the ice;〃 said Lief of the Lower Dale; but Sveggum; who had
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  always   been   among   the   Reindeer;   said:   〃Their   mothers   are   the   teachers;
  even as ours are。〃
  When the autumn came; old Sveggum saw a moving sno…flack far off
  on the brown moor…land; but the Troll saw a white yearling; a Nekbuk; and
  when they ranged alongside of Utrovand to drink; the still sheet seemed
  fully to reflect the White One; though it barely sketched in the others; with
  the dark hills behind。
  Many a little Calf had come that spring; and had drifted away on the
  moss…barrens; to come back no more; for some were weaklings and some
  were fools; some fell by the way; for that is law; and some would not learn
  the rules; and so died。 But the White Calf was strongest of them all; and he
  was   wise;   so   he   learned   of   his   mother;   who   was   wisest   of   them   all。   He
  learned   that   the   grass   on   the   sun   side   of   a   rock   is   sweet;   and   though   it
  looks the same in the dark hollows; it is there worthless。 He learned that
  when his mother's hoofs crackled he must be up and moving; and when all
  the   herd's   hoofs   crackled   there   was   danger;   and   he   must   keep   by   his
  mother's side。 For this crackling is like the whistling of a Whistler Duck's
  wings:   it   is   to   keep   the   kinds   together。   He   learned   that   where   the   little
  Bomuldblomster   hangs   its   Cotton   tufts   is   dangerous   bog;   that   the   harsh
  cackle of the Ptarmigan means that close at hand are Eagles; as dangerous
  for Fawn as for Bird。 He learned that the little troll…berries are deadly; that
  when   the   verra…flies   come   stinging   he   must   take   refuge   on   a       snow…
  patch; and that of all animal smells only that of his mother was to be fully
  trusted。 He learned that he was growing。 His flat calf sides and big joints
  were changing to the full barrel and clean limbs of the Yearling; and the
  little  bumps     which     began    to  show    on   his  head    when    he   was   only    a
  fortnight old were now sharp; hard spikes that could win in fight。
  More than once they had smelt that dreaded destroyer of the north that
  men call the Gjerv or Wolverene; and one day; as this danger…scent came
  suddenly and in great strength; a huge blot of dark brown sprang rumbling