第 23 节
作者:双曲线      更新:2021-04-30 17:21      字数:9288
  manner of spilled naphtha; actually waist high with green feed; sown with
  flowers like a brocade。        Quaint tributary little brooks babble and murmur
  down   through   these   trees;   down   through   these   lawns。       A  blessed   warm
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  sun hums with the joy of innumerable bees。                To right hand and to left; in
  front of you and behind; rising sheer; forbidding; impregnable; the cliffs;
  mountains; and ranges hem you in。             Down the river ten miles you can go:
  then the gorge closes; the river grows savage; you can only look down the
  tumbling fierce waters and turn back。            Up the river five miles you can go;
  then interpose the sheer snow…clad cliffs of the Palisades; and them; rising
  a matter of fourteen thousand feet; you may not cross。                   You are shut in
  your paradise as completely as though surrounded by iron bars。
  But; too; the world is shut out。         The paradise is yours。        In it are trout
  and deer and grouse and bear and lazy happy days。                   Your horses feed to
  the   fatness   of   butter。  You   wander   at   will   in   the   ample   though   definite
  limits of your domain。         You lie on your back and examine dispassionately;
  with    an   interest   entirely   detached;    the   huge   cliff…walls    of  the  valley。
  Days slip by。       Really; it needs at least an angel with a flaming sword to
  force you to move on。
  We turned away from our view and addressed ourselves to the task of
  finding   out   just   when   we   were   going   to   get   there。   The   first   day   we
  bobbed      up   and   over   innumerable      little  ridges   of  a  few   hundred     feet
  elevation;     crossed     several    streams;    and    skirted    the   wide    bowl…like
  amphitheatre   of   a   basin。     The   second   day   we   climbed   over   things   and
  finally   ended   in   a   small   hanging   park   named   Alpine   Meadows;   at   an
  elevation   of   eight   thousand   five   hundred   feet。     There   we   rested…over   a
  day; camped under a single pine… tree; with the quick…growing mountain
  grasses thick about us; a semicircle of mountains on three sides; and the
  plunge into the canon on the other。           As we needed meat; we spent part of
  the day in finding a deer。        The rest of the time we watched idly for bear。
  Bears are great travelers。        They will often go twenty miles overnight;
  apparently   for   the   sheer   delight   of   being   on   the   move。   Also   are   they
  exceedingly loath to expend unnecessary energy in getting to places; and
  they   hate   to   go   down   steep   hills。   You   see;   their   fore   legs   are   short。
  Therefore      they   are   skilled   in  the   choice   of   easy   routes   through     the
  mountains; and once having made the choice they stick to it until through
  certain   narrow   places   on   the   route   selected   they   have   worn   a   trail   as
  smooth as a garden…path。           The old prospectors used quite occasionally to
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  pick out the horse…passes by trusting in general to the bear migrations; and
  many     a  well…traveled     route   of  to…day    is  superimposed      over   the   way…
  through picked out by old bruin long ago。
  Of such was our own trail。          Therefore we kept our rifles at hand and
  our eyes open for a straggler。          But none came; though we baited craftily
  with    portions    of  our   deer。   All   we   gained    was   a  rattlesnake;    and   he
  seemed a bit out of place so high up in the air。
  Mount Tunemah stood over against us; still twenty…two hundred feet
  above our elevation。        We gazed on it sadly; for directly by its summit; and
  for   five hours   beyond; lay  our   trail;   and   evil   of   reputation   was that   trail
  beyond all others。       The horses; as we bunched them in preparation for the
  packing; took on a new interest; for it was on the cards that the unpacking
  at evening would find some missing from the ranks。
  〃Lily's a goner; sure;〃 said Wes。          〃I don't know how she's got this far
  except by drunken man's luck。           She'll never make the Tunemah。〃
  〃And     Tunemah      himself;〃    pointed   out   the  Tenderfoot;      naming     his
  own fool horse; 〃I see where I start in to walk。〃
  〃Sort of a ‘morituri te salutamur;' 〃 said I。
  We   climbed   the   two   thousand   two   hundred   feet;   leading   our   saddle…
  horses   to   save   their   strength。   Every   twenty   feet   we   rested;   breathing
  heavily of the rarified air。       Then at the top of the world we paused on the
  brink of nothing to tighten cinches; while the cold wind swept by us; the
  snow glittered in a sunlight become silvery like that of early April; and the
  giant peaks of the High Sierras lifted into a distance inconceivably remote;
  as though the horizon had been set back for their accommodation。
  To our left lay a windrow of snow such as you will see drifted into a
  sharp   crest   across   a   corner   of   your   yard;   only  this   windrow   was   twenty
  feet high and packed solid by the sun; the wind; and the weight of its age。
  We climbed it and looked over directly into the eye of a round Alpine lake
  seven   or   eight   hundred   feet   below。    It   was   of   an   intense   cobalt   blue;   a
  color to be seen only in these glacial bodies of water; deep and rich as the
  mantle of a merchant of Tyre。           White ice floated in it。      The savage fierce
  granite needles and knife…edges of the mountain crest hemmed it about。
  But this was temporizing; and we knew it。               The first drop of the trail
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  was so steep that we could flip a pebble to the first level of it; and so rough
  in its water…and…snow…gouged knuckles of rocks that it seemed that at the
  first   step   a  horse   must    necessarily    fall  end    over   end。    We    made     it
  successfully;   however;   and   breathed   deep。        Even   Lily;   by   a   miracle   of
  lucky scrambling; did not even stumble。
  〃Now she's easy for a little ways;〃 said Wes; 〃then we'll get busy。〃
  When we 〃got busy〃 we took our guns in our hands to preserve them
  from a fall; and started in。       Two more miracles saved Dinkey at two more
  places。     We spent an hour at one spot; and finally built a new trail around
  it。   Six   times   a   minute   we   held   our   breaths   and   stood   on   tiptoe   with
  anxiety; powerless to help; while the horse did his best。               At the especially
  bad     places   we    checked     them     off  one    after   another;    congratulating
  ourselves on so much saved as each came across without accident。                     When
  there   were   no   bad   places;   the   trail   was   so   extraordinarily   steep   that   we
  ahead were in constant dread of a horse's falling on us from behind; and
  our   legs   did   become   wearied   to   incipient   paralysis   by   the   constant   stiff
  checking   of   the   descent。     Moreover   every   second   or   so   one   of   the   big
  loose stones with which the trail was cumbered would be dislodged and
  come     bouncing      down    among     us。   We     dodged    and   swore;    the   horses
  kicked; we all feared for the integrity of our legs。            The day was full of an
  intense   nervous   strain;   an   entire   absorption   in   the   precise   present。   We
  promptly forgot a difficulty as soon as we were by it: we had not time to
  think of those still ahead。        All outside the insistence of the moment was
  blurred   and   unimportant;   like   a   specialized   focus;   so   I   cannot   tell   you
  much about the scenery。           The only outside impression we received was
  that the canon floor was slowly rising to meet us。
  Then strangely enough; as it seemed; we stepped off to level ground。
  Our watches said half…past three。           We had made five miles in a little
  under seven hours。
  Remained only the crossing of the river。             This was no mean task; but
  we accomplished it lightly; searching out a ford。             There were high grasses;
  and on the other side of them a grove of very tall cottonwoods; clean as a
  park。    First of all we cooked things; then we spread things; then we lay
  on   our   backs   and   smoked   things;   our   hands   clasped   back   of   our   heads。
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