第 26 节
作者:双曲线      更新:2021-04-30 17:21      字数:9322
  with   a   weather…beaten   face   of   mahogany   on   which   was   superimposed   a
  sweeping mustache and beetling eye… brows。                   These had originally been
  brown; but the sun had bleached them almost white in remarkable contrast
  to his complexion。         Eyes keen as sunlight twinkled far down beneath the
  shadows of the brows and a floppy old sombrero hat。                     The usual flannel
  shirt;   waistcoat;    mountain…boots;       and    six…shooter    completed      the  outfit。
  He might have been forty; but           was probably nearer sixty years of age。
  〃Howdy;       boys;〃    said   he;  and    dropped     to   the  fireside;   where     he
  promptly annexed a coal for his pipe。
  We all greeted him; but gradually the talk fell to him and Wes。                  It was
  commonplace talk enough from one point of view: taken in essence it was
  merely   like   the   inquiry   and   answer   of   the   civilized   man   as   to   another's
  itinerary〃Did you visit Florence? Berlin? St。 Petersburg?〃and then the
  comparing   of   impressions。         Only   here   again   that   old   familiar   magic   of
  unfamiliar names threw its glamour over the terse sentences。
  〃Over   beyond   the   Piute   Monument;〃   the   old   prospector   explained;
  〃down through the Inyo Range; a leetle north of Death Valley〃
  〃Back   in   seventy…eight   when   I   was   up   in   Bay  Horse   Canon   over   by
  Lost River〃
  〃Was     you    ever   over    in  th'  Panamit     Mountains?        North     of   th'
  Telescope Range?〃
  That was all there was to it; with long pauses for drawing at the pipes。
  Yet    somehow        in  the   aggregate      that   catalogue     of   names     gradually
  established   in   the   minds   of   us   two   who   listened   an   impression   of   long
  years;   of   wide   wilderness;   of   wandering   far   over   the   face   of   the   earth。
  The old man had wintered here; summered a thousand miles away; made
  his strike at one end of the world; lost it somehow; and cheerfully tried for
  a   repetition   of   his   luck   at   the   other。 I   do   not   believe   the   possibility   of
  wealth; though always of course in the background; was ever near enough
  his   hope   to   be   considered   a   motive   for   action。  Rather   was   it   a   dream;
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  remote;   something   to       be   gained    to…morrow;   but   never   to…day;   like   the
  mediaeval   Christian's   idea   of   heaven。       His   interest   was     in   the   search。
  For that one could see in him a real enthusiasm。                He had his smattering of
  theory;   his   very   real   empirical   knowledge;   and   his   superstitions;   like   all
  prospectors。       So long as he could keep in grub; own a little train of burros;
  and lead the life he loved; he was happy。
  Perhaps   one   of   the   chief   elements   of   this   remarkable   interest   in   the
  game rather than the prizes of it was his desire to vindicate his guesses or
  his    conclusions。      He    liked   to  predict    to  himself    the   outcome     of   his
  solitary   operations;   and   then   to   prove   that   prediction   through   laborious
  days。     His life was a gigantic game of solitaire。             In fact; he mentioned a
  dozen of his claims many years apart which he had developed to a certain
  point;〃so I   could see   what they  was;〃and then   abandoned in   favor   of
  fresher discoveries。        He cherished the illusion that these were properties
  to whose completion some day he would return。                    But we knew better; he
  had carried them to the point where the result was no longer in doubt and
  then; like one who has no interest in playing on in an evidently prescribed
  order; had laid his cards on the table to begin a new game。
  This man was skilled in his profession; he had pursued it for thirty odd
  years;   he   was   frugal   and   industrious;   undoubtedly   of   his   long   series   of
  discoveries a fair percentage were valuable and are producing…properties
  to…day。     Yet he confessed his bank balance to be less than five hundred
  dollars。     Why was this?         Simply and solely because he did not care。              At
  heart   it   was   entirely   immaterial   to   him   whether   he   ever   owned   a   dollar
  above his expenses。         When he sold his claims; he let them go easily; loath
  to bother   himself   with business   details;   eager   to   get   away  from  the   fuss
  and nuisance。        The few hundred dollars he received he probably sunk in
  unproductive   mining   work;   or   was   fleeced   out   of   in   the   towns。       Then
  joyfully he turned back to his beloved mountains and the life of his slow
  deep delight and his pecking away before the open doors of fortune。                        By
  and   by   he   would   build   himself   a   little   cabin   down   in   the   lower   pine
  mountains;       where     he  would     grow    a   white    beard;   putter   with    occult
  wilderness crafts; and smoke long contemplative hours in the sun before
  his door。      For tourists he would braid rawhide reins and quirts; or make
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  buckskin。      The     jays   and   woodpeckers       and   Douglas     squirrels   would
  become fond of him。         So he would be gathered to his fathers; a gentle old
  man whose life had been spent harmlessly in the open。                   He had had his
  ideal to which blindly he reached; he had in his indirect way contributed
  the    fruits  of  his  labor   to   mankind;     his  recompenses       he  had   chosen
  according to his desires。         When you consider these things; you perforce
  have to revise your first notion of him as a useless sort of old ruffian。              As
  you come to know him better; you must love him for the kindliness; the
  simple honesty; the modesty; and charity that he seems to draw from his
  mountain   environment。         There   are   hundreds   of   him   buried   in   the   great
  canons of the West。
  Our prospector was a little uncertain as to his plans。               Along toward
  autumn he   intended   to land   at some   reputed placers near   Dinkey  Creek。
  There might be something   in   that district。          He  thought   he would   take   a
  look。    In   the   mean   time   he   was   just   poking   up   through   the   countryhe
  and his jackasses。       Good way to spend the summer。               Perhaps he might
  run    across something 'most anywhere; up near the top of                that mountain
  opposite looked mineralized。           Didn't    know but what he'd take a look at
  her to…morrow。
  He camped   near   us during three days。           I   never   saw   a   more   modest;
  self…effacing   man。      He   seemed   genuinely;   childishly;   almost   helplessly
  interested   in   our   fly…fishing;   shooting;   our   bear…skins;   and   our   travels。
  You would have thought from his demeanor which was sincere and not
  in the least ironical that he had never seen or heard anything quite like
  that before; and was struck with wonder at it。            Yet he had cast flies before
  we were born; and shot even earlier than he had cast a fly; and was a very
  Ishmael      for  travel。    Rarely     could   you    get   an  account     of  his   own
  experiences; and then only in illustration of something else。
  〃If you…all likes bear…hunting;〃 said he; 〃you ought to get up in eastern
  Oregon。      I summered there once。          The only trouble is; the brush is thick
  as hair。    You 'most always have to bait them; or wait for them to come
  and drink。      The brush is so small you ain't got much chance。               I run onto
  a   she…   bear   and   cubs   that   way   once。 Didn't   have   nothin'   but   my   six…
  shooter; and I met her within six foot。〃          He stopped with an air of finality。
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  〃Well; what did you do?〃 we asked。
  〃Me?〃 he inquired; surprised。            〃Oh; I just leaked out of th' landscape。〃
  He prospected the mountain opposite; loafed with us a little; and then
  decided   that   he   must   be   going。     About   eight   o'clock   in   the   morning   he
  passed   us;   hazing   his   burros;   his   tall;   lean   figure   elastic   in   defiance   of
  years。
  〃So long; boys;〃 he called; 〃good luck!〃
  〃So long;〃 we responded heartily。             〃Be good to yourself。〃
  He   plunged   into   the   river   without   hesitation;   emerged