第 12 节
作者:双曲线      更新:2021-04-30 17:21      字数:9321
  slow  maddening   three   miles   an hour   of   the   pack…   train   drove   us   frantic。
  There were times when it seemed that unless we shifted our gait; unless
  we stepped outside the slow strain of patience to which the Inferno held us
  relentlessly; we should lose our minds and run round and round in circles
  as people often do; in the desert。
  And     when    the  last  and  most   formidable     hundred    yards   had  slunk
  sullenly behind us to insignificance; and we had dared let our minds relax
  from the insistent need of self…controlthen; beyond the cotton。               woods;
  or creek…bed; or group of buildings; whichever it might be; we made out
  another; remote as paradise; to which we must gain by sunset。                 So again
  the wagon…trail; with its white choking dust; its staggering sun; its miles
  made up of monotonous inches; each clutching for a man's sanity。
  We sang everything we knew; we told stories; we rode cross…saddle;
  sidewise;   erect;   slouching;   we   walked   and   led   our   horses;   we   shook   the
  powder of years from old worn jokes; conundrums; and puzzles; and at
  the end; in spite of our best efforts; we fell to morose silence and the red…
  eyed vindictive contemplation of the objective point that would not seem
  to come nearer。
  For now we lost accurate sense of time。           At first it had been merely a
  question of going in at one side of eight days; pressing through them; and
  coming out on the other side。          Then the eight days would be behind us。
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  But once we had entered that enchanted period; we found ourselves more
  deeply     involved。     The     seemingly      limited   area   spread    with   startling
  swiftness to   the very  horizon。        Abruptly it   was borne  in   on us   that   this
  was never going to end; just as now for the first time we realized that it
  had begun infinite ages ago。         We were caught in the entanglement of days。
  The     Coast    Ranges     were   the   experiences     of   a  past   incarnation:     the
  Mountains were a myth。
  Nothing     was    real  but   this;  and   this   would    endure    forever。    We
  plodded on because somehow it was part of the great plan that we should
  do so。     Not that it did any good:we had long since given up such ideas。
  The     illusion   was   very    real;  perhaps     it  was   the   anodyne     mercifully
  administered to those who pass through the Inferno。
  Most of the time we got on well enough。               One day; only; the Desert
  showed her power。         That day; at five of the afternoon; it was one hundred
  and twenty degrees in the shade。            And we; through necessity of reaching
  the next water; journeyed over the alkali at noon。              Then the Desert came
  close on us and looked us fair in the eyes; concealing nothing。                She killed
  poor   Deuce;   the   beautiful   setter   who   had   traveled   the   wild   countries   so
  long;   she   struck   Wes   and   the  Tenderfoot   from   their   horses   when   finally
  they had reached a long…legged water tank; she even staggered the horses
  themselves。      And I; lying under a bush where I had stayed after the others
  in the hope of succoring Deuce; began idly shooting at ghostly jack…rabbits
  that   looked   real;   but   through   which   the   revolver   bullets   passed   without
  resistance。
  After this day the Tenderfoot went water…crazy。               Watering the horses
  became almost a mania with him。             He could not bear to pass even a mud…
  hole without offering the astonished Tunemah a chance to fill                    up; even
  though     that  animal    had   drunk    freely  not   twenty    rods    back。    As    for
  himself; he embraced every opportunity;              and journeyed draped in many
  canteens。
  After that it was not so bad。         The thermometer stood from a hundred
  to a hundred   and   five or six;  to   be sure;  but   we   were getting used   to   it。
  Discomfort;      ordinary    physical    discomfort;     we   came     to  accept   as   the
  normal     environment       of  man。    It   is  astonishing     how    soon   uniformly
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  uncomfortable conditions; by very lack of contrast; do lose their power to
  color   the   habit   of   mind。    I   imagine   merely   physical   unhappiness   is   a
  matter   more   of   contrasts   than   of   actual   circumstances。       We   swallowed
  dust;   we   humped   our   shoulders   philosophically  under the  beating   of   the
  sun;    we    breathed    the   debris   of  high    winds;    we   cooked     anyhow;     ate
  anything; spent long idle fly… infested hours waiting for the noon to pass;
  we slept in horse…corrals; in the trail;  in the dust; behind stables; in  hay;
  anywhere。       There was little water; less wood for the cooking。
  It is now  all confused; an   impression of events   with out sequence;  a
  mass   of   little   prominent   purposeless   things   like   rock   conglomerate。          I
  remember   leaning   my   elbows   on   a   low   window…ledge   and   watching   a
  poker game going on in the room of a dive。                The light came from a sickly
  suspended lamp。         It fell on five players;two miners in their shirt…sleeves;
  a Mexican; a tough youth with side…tilted derby hat; and a fat gorgeously
  dressed Chinaman。           The men held their cards close to their bodies; and
  wagered       in  silence。    Slowly     and    regularly    the  great   drops    of   sweat
  gathered on their faces。         As regularly they raised the backs of their hands
  to wipe them away。          Only the Chinaman; broad…faced; calm; impassive as
  Buddha;   save   for   a   little   crafty   smile   in   one   corner   of   his   eye;   seemed
  utterly unaffected by the heat; cool as autumn。              His loose sleeve fell back
  from his forearm when   he moved his hand   forward; laying his bets。                       A
  jade bracelet slipped back and forth as smoothly as on yellow ivory。
  Or again; one night when the plain was like a sea of liquid black; and
  the sky blazed with stars; we rode by a sheep…herder's camp。                    The flicker
  of   a   fire   threw  a   glow   out  into   the   dark。   A   tall  wagon;   a   group    of
  silhouetted   men;   three   or   four   squatting   dogs;   were   squarely   within   the
  circle of illumination。       And outside; in the penumbra of shifting half light;
  now      showing      clearly;   now     fading    into   darkness;     were     the   sheep;
  indeterminate   in   bulk;   melting   away   by   mysterious   thousands   into   the
  mass of night。        We passed them。          They looked up; squinting their eyes
  against the dazzle of their fire。        The night closed about us again。
  Or still another: in the glare of broad noon; after a hot and trying day; a
  little inn kept by a French couple。            And there; in the very middle of the
  Inferno; was served to us on clean scrubbed tables; a meal such as one gets
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  in   rural   France;   all   complete;   with   the   potage;   the   fish   fried   in   oil;   the
  wonderful ragout;          the chicken and salad; the cheese and the black coffee;
  even     the   vin   ordinaire。     I   have    forgotten    the   name     of   the  place;    its
  location   on   the   map;   the   name   of   its   people;one   has   little   to   do   with
  detail in the Inferno;but that dinner never will I forget; any more than the
  Tenderfoot   will   forget   his   first   sight   of   water   the   day   when   the   Desert
  〃held us up。〃
  Once the brown veil lifted to the eastward。                We; souls struggling; saw
  great     mountains      and    the  whiteness      of   eternal    snow。     That     noon    we
  crossed   a   river;   hurrying   down   through   the   flat   plain;   and   in   its   current
  came the body of a drowned bear…cub; an alien from the high country。
  These   things   should   have   been   as   signs   to   our   jaded   spirits   that   we
  were nearly at the end of our penance; but discipline had seared over our
  souls; and we rode on unknowing。
  Then   we   came       on   a  real   indication。     It   did   not  amount   to     much。
  Merely a dry river…bed; but the farther bank; instead of being flat; cut into
  a low swell of land。         We skirted it。       Another swell of land; like the sullen
  after…heave   of   a   storm;   lay   in   our   way。