第 20 节
作者:双曲线      更新:2021-04-30 17:21      字数:9322
  you will take into   account; a   very  few of   the many  which lend the   deer
  countries strange thrills of delight over new knowledge gained; over crafty
  expedients   invented   or   well   utilized;   over   the   satisfactory   matching   of
  your     reason;    your   instinct;    your   subtlety   and     skill  against    the   reason;
  instinct; subtlety; and skill of one of the wariest of large wild animals。
  Perversely enough the times when you did NOT see deer are more apt
  to remain vivid in your memory than the times when you did。                          I can still
  see   distinctly   sundry   wide   jump…marks   where   the   animal   I   was   tracking
  had   evidently   caught   sight   of   me   and   lit   out   before   I   came   up   to   him。
  Equally; sundry little thin disappearing clouds of dust; cracklings of brush;
  growing       ever   more     distant;   the   tops   of   bushes    waving      to  the   steady
  passage      of  something       remaining      persistently     concealed;these       are   the
  chief   ingredients   often       repeated   which   make   up   deer…stalking   memory。
  When I       think of seeing deer; these things automatically rise。
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  A few of the deer actually seen do; however; stand out clearly from the
  many。      When I was a very small boy possessed of a 32…20 rifle and large
  ambitions; I followed the advantage my father's footsteps made me in the
  deep   snow   of   an   unused   logging…road。       His   attention   was   focused   on
  some very interesting fresh tracks。           I; being a small boy; cared not at all
  for   tracks;   and   so   saw   a   big   doe   emerge   from   the   bushes   not   ten   yards
  away; lope leisurely across the road; and disappear; wagging earnestly her
  tail。   When I had recovered my breath I vehemently demanded the sense
  of   fooling   with   tracks   when   there   were   real   live   deer   to   be   had。 My
  father examined me。
  〃Well; why didn't you shoot her?〃 he inquired dryly。
  I hadn't thought of that。
  In the spring of 1900 I was at the head of the Piant River waiting for
  the log…drive to start。      One morning; happening to walk over a slashing of
  many years before in which had grown a strong thicket of white popples; I
  jumped      a  band    of  nine   deer。    I   shall  never    forget   the  bewildering
  impression made by the glancing; dodging; bouncing white of those nine
  snowy tails and rumps。
  But most wonderful of all was a great buck; of I should be afraid to
  say how many points; that stood silhouetted on the extreme end of a ridge
  high    above    our   camp。    The     time   was   just  after  twilight;   and   as  we
  watched; the sky lightened behind him in prophecy of the moon。
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  XI
  ON TENDERFEET
  The tenderfoot is a queer beast。        He makes more trouble than ants at a
  picnic; more work than a trespassing goat; he never sees anything; knows
  where anything is; remembers accurately your instructions; follows them
  if   remembered;   or   is   able   to   handle   without   awkwardness   his   large   and
  pathetic hands and feet; he is always lost; always falling off or into things;
  always in difficulties; his articles of necessity are constantly being burned
  up or washed away or mislaid; he looks at you beamingly through great
  innocent eyes in the most chuckle…headed of manners; he exasperates you
  to within an inch of explosion;and yet you love him。
  I am referring now to the real tenderfoot; the fellow who cannot learn;
  who is incapable ever of adjusting himself to the demands of the wild life。
  Sometimes a man is merely green; inexperienced。              But give him a chance
  and    he  soon   picks   up   the  game。    That    is  your  greenhorn;    not   your
  tenderfoot。     Down near Monache meadows we came across an individual
  leading an old pack…mare up the trail。         The first thing; he asked us to tell
  him where he was。        We did so。     Then we noticed that he carried his gun
  muzzle…up   in   his   hip…pocket;  which   seemed   to   be   a nice  way  to   shoot   a
  hole in your hand; but a poor way to make your weapon accessible。                  He
  unpacked near us; and promptly          turned the mare into a bog…hole because
  it   looked   green。    Then   he   stood   around   the   rest   of   the   evening and
  talked deprecating talk of a garrulous nature。
  〃Which way did you come?〃 asked Wes。
  The stranger gave us a hazy account of misnamed canons; by which
  we gathered that he had come directly over the rough divide below us。
  〃But if you wanted to get to Monache; why didn't you go around to the
  eastward   through   that   pass;   there;   and   save   yourself   all   the   climb? It
  must have been pretty rough through there。〃
  〃Yes; perhaps so;〃 he hesitated。        〃StillI got lots of timeI can take
  all summer; if I want to and I'd rather stick to a straight linethen you
  know where you AREif you get off the straight line; you're likely to get
  lost; you know。〃
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  We     knew    well    enough     what   ailed   him;    of  course。     He     was   a
  tenderfoot; of the sort that always; to its dying day; unhobbles its horses
  before   putting   their   halters   on。   Yet   that   man   for   thirty…two   years   had
  lived    almost    constantly   in   the  wild   countries。    He    had   traveled    more
  miles with a pack…train than we shall ever dream of traveling; and hardly
  could we mention a famous camp of the last quarter century that he had
  not    blundered     into。   Moreover       he  proved    by   the   indirections    of  his
  misinformation   that   he   had   really   been   there   and   was   not   making   ghost
  stories in order to impress us。        Yet if the Lord spares him thirty…two years
  more;   at   the   end   of   that   time   he   will   probably   still   be   carrying   his   gun
  upside down; turning his horse into a bog…hole; and blundering through the
  country by main strength and awkwardness。                 He was a beautiful type of
  the tenderfoot。
  The redeeming point of the tenderfoot is his humbleness of spirit and
  his extreme good nature。          He exasperates you with his fool performances
  to the point of dancing cursing wild crying rage; and then accepts your
  well; reproofsso meekly that you           come off the boil as though some one
  had removed you         from the fire; and you feel like a low…browed thug。
  Suppose your particular tenderfoot to be named Algernon。                     Suppose
  him to have packed his horse looselythey always doso that the pack has
  slipped;     the   horse   has   bucked     over    three   square    miles   of   assorted
  mountains; and the rest of the train is scattered over identically that area。
  You have run your saddle…horse to a lather heading the outfit。                  You have
  sworn and dodged and scrambled and yelled; even fired your six…shooter;
  to turn them and bunch them。            In the mean time Algernon has either sat
  his horse like a park policeman in his leisure hours; or has ambled directly
  into your path of pursuit on an average of five times a minute。                  Then the
  trouble dies from the landscape and the baby bewilderment from his eyes。
  You   slip   from   your   winded   horse   and   address   Algernon   with   elaborate
  courtesy。
  〃My dear fellow;〃 you remark; 〃did you not see that the thing for you
  to   do   was   to   head   them   down   by   the   bottom   of   that   little   gulch   there?
  Don't you really think ANYBODY would have seen it?                        What in hades
  do   you   think   I   wanted   to   run   my   horse   all   through   those   boulders   for?
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  Do you think I want to get him lame 'way up here in the hills?                       I don't
  mind telling a man a thing once; but to tell it to him fifty…eight times and
  then    have    it  do  no   good   Have     you   the   faintest  recollection     of  my
  instructing   you   to   turn   the   bight   OVER   instead   of   UNDER   when   you
  throw that pack…hitch?         If you'd remember that; we shouldn't have had all
  this trouble。〃
  〃You didn't tell me to head them by the little gulch;〃 babbles Algernon。
  Thi