‘Oters! Lor, whoever would ha’ thought it?’
And then, as he remembered that the mere5 was frozen and the creatures shut off from the water, the expression of surprise changed to one of triumph, and forgetting for a moment his decrepitude6, he exultingly7 exclaimed: ‘They’re mine—sure as eggs, they’re mine!’ It was not their destruction that elated him, but the prospect—the almost certain prospect—of securing their pelts9, and of adding a sovereign to the dwindling10 store in the thatch11.
Of course, before he could dispose of the skins he must find the otters13, and shoot them when found; but what could be easier, he thought, than to track them down with such a trail; and then even he, old and infirm though he was, could hardly fail to hit the long-bodied creatures as they left their couches and floundered through the snow. So easy did the task seem in the first flush of excitement, before the difficulties presented themselves, crowding upon him as if to shake him from his purpose. The bitterness of the wind, the depths of the drifts, the possibility—nay, the probability, of the creatures having sought the cliffs, his own physical debility: all confronted him, but only to be made light of and swept aside before he turned and hobbled back to the cottage, determined14 at all costs to make the attempt.
On crossing the threshold he went straight to the hearth15, his eyes raised to the two guns and a brass16 blunderbuss that rested on wooden pegs17 above it. The flintlock was within easy reach; but it was the modern gun he meant to use and, standing18 on tiptoe, he managed to grasp the hammers and take it down. A little over a year before, when he had put the wonderful piece there, he thought he should never use it again, never dreaming of such an easy chance as that offered by otters on the snowed-up mere.
‘Can I hold straight enow, wonder.’ ‘Iss, sure,’ came the complacent19 answer; ‘you can hold straight enow for that.’
Nevertheless, as if conscious that he could not and fearing to put his enfeebled powers to the test, he kept blowing on the barrels, though all the dust had gone, until at last, remembering the dark, snow-laden sky, he raised the stock to his shoulder, shut one eye, and looked along the gun. In his younger days man and weapon might have been molten together in bronze, so steadily20 could he stand and hold; but now, as he had dreaded21, the sight zig-zagged over the pane22 when he aimed at a starling on the medlar-tree outside.
‘’Tis no use; couldn’t hit a seal, leave alone an oter, with muzzle23 wobblin’ all over the place like that—dear, dear, oh, dear!’ and he sank into the corner of the settle.
But as he sat before the furze fire which a girl was tending, warmth came back to his hands, the thought of the golden sovereign quickened his blood, and he resolved to make a second attempt. Rising to his feet, he again raised the gun to his shoulder and, holding his breath, aimed at the bird still bunched up on the swaying branch. As the sight kept fairly true to the mark, confidence returned, the old man’s face brightened, and resting the weapon against the table, he set about his preparations. He fetched from a drawer in the dresser powder-flask, shot-pouch, caps and wads; he loaded both barrels, and replaced the ramrod. Then he turned up the collar of his worn velveteen coat, pulled the badger-skin cap over his ears and, telling the child he should not be away long, sallied out with the gun at half-cock under his arm.
The trail led past the frozen-in boat towards the tossing withy-bed, but just before reaching it, swerved24 unexpectedly, as if the creatures had caught a glimpse of some forager25 who had forestalled26 them, or had all at once thought it best to make without delay for the farther side of the marsh1. Bending his bowed figure as he turned, the old man set his face to the gale27 and plodded28 bravely along by the side of the tracks, the snow in places reaching half-way up his leather leggings. The depth of it made him hopeful that the otters had not gone far before lying up; so, as he drew near each bit of cover that offered harbourage, he raised the hammers and held the gun at the ready. He did this again and again, whilst beating the tussocky ground on the farther bank of the stream, where the otters had stayed to quest before crossing the unbroken expanse of snow that stretched to the foot of the hill.
At every stride now he was getting more and more under shelter of the land; every score yards the snow was becoming appreciably29 deeper and deeper, until at last it lay in a big drift that threatened to bar his way. A break in the embankment, fluted30 and escalloped by the wind, showed where the otters had tunnelled their way through; and the old man, sanguine31 as to their near neighbourhood, after blowing on his numbed32 fingers, tightened33 his grip on the barrels and determined to follow. As the drift was formidable enough to daunt34 a younger and a taller man, he twice shrank from committing himself to the smothering35 mass. But again the thought of the golden sovereign, now as he believed so nearly his, lured36 him on: he held the gun above his head, went at the yielding obstacle, sank in it, disappeared all but hand and gun, fought with it, and at last battled through. Furiously brushing the snow out of his eyes, he looked eagerly to right and to left, thinking the game was afoot and striving to escape; but among the laid reeds that met his gaze no living thing stirred: only the big and the little trails, as plain as under the wall of the duck-house, wound in and out amongst the stems, trending in the direction of the mere. ‘No hurry, my beauties; I shall come up wi’ ’ee by-and-by;’ and snap, snap, went the brittle37 reeds as he made his slow way through them. He kept looking eagerly ahead as though he expected to catch sight of the game retreating before his noisy advance, but nothing caught his eye save the wing of a moorhen on which some fortunate forager had broken his fast.
Yet though he saw nothing of the otters themselves, he came on evidence in the snow which told him they had not spent the night wholly in wandering. Between the reeds and the creek38 were the beaten places where they had rolled, and a gunshot farther, the slope down which they had slid. On sighting the slide he stopped, astonished that famine-stricken creatures, as he knew they must be, could waste a moment in gambols39. ‘Most playsomest critturs on God’s eerth,’ said he; but at once resumed his murderous errand, now with grave misgivings40 lest he should presently discover that the otters had kept straight on to the bar and cliffs, and got beyond his reach. He was greatly elated, therefore, on reaching the furzy foreland, to find that his fears were groundless, that the otters, instead of crossing the mouth of the creek, had rounded the point and passed up the inlet; for so he felt sure of coming upon them, and most probably in the nearer of the two likeliest holts towards which, whenever he peeped from under the sheltering peak of his cap, the gleaming eyes were directed. It was the ancient pollard whence he had twice seen an otter12 steal away as he sculled past the island on which it grew.
‘They’re theere right enow,’ the old man said when he saw the trail turn that way, and raising both hammers to full cock, he went on with a stealth he had not before thought necessary. As he reached the island he lost the tracks under the snow-laden tangle41. This he proceeded to beat thoroughly42; but as he did not really expect to find the quarry43 there, presently he ceased trampling44, looked towards the hollow trunk where he believed they were, called out, ‘Harkin’, are ’ee?’ crept as close to the bole as he dared, and peeped through the cleft45. He was obliged to keep at some little distance to get a fair shot when they bolted; and screw his eyes and crane his neck as he might, it was impossible to distinguish the dark bodies in the gloomy recess46. He felt sure however they were there, and it occurred to him he might dislodge them with a snowball. Taking up a cake of snow that bore the impress of his hobnailed soles, he made two balls, which he hurled47 in quick succession through the opening. The second was scarcely out of his hand before he picked up the gun he had laid down, and stood ready to shoot the animals as they escaped; but still no otter showed. ‘Not theere after all, s’pose,’ said he; yet he advanced on tiptoe to the tree, kicked it, and jumped back with an agility48 that showed his expectations were not quite exhausted49. Again there was no response: nothing stirred except the snow that fell from the rickety crown. Then he walked up to the tree, and peering through the crack, examined the dusky shell from root to branch to find nothing save an old nest with fish-bones on the ground beside it.
Convinced at last that the otters really were not there, he proceeded to make a cast beyond the island, using the gun to steady him as he crossed some exposed ice to the snow. There the sight of the trail brought home to him his want of prevision, and threw him into a rage.
‘Drat my stupid old head, why didn’t I ring the eyot afore?’ came the quick, hot words. ‘Once bit, twice shy,’ he growled50, and strode from bank to bank in search of a return trail which would prevent his being fooled again. But neither on the open snow nor amongst the reeds was there a sign that the otters had broken back. On regaining52 the track he advanced along it, confident now that the creatures were lying up at the end of the creek.
‘At laist, and worth all the trouble. In pride of pelt8 they’ll be. Take your time mind, aim for the head, and the big un fust.’
The nearer he got to the end of the inlet, the more agitated53 he became, until, on reaching the spot where the otters had passed in single file between two tussocks before entering the brambles, he was in a fever of agitation54. But despite his excitement, the precautions he took showed he had got himself well in hand, that he was anxious to make the most of his hardly-earned chance. He raised the flaps of his cap that no sound might escape his ears; he brushed away every particle of snow from the barrels of the gun, and to satisfy himself that the weapon would not miss fire, he raised the copper55 caps and saw that the powder was still up in the nipples. Then, everything being ready, he began to trample56 upon the matted sprays in order to drive the otters from their last possible retreat.
He had taken some half a dozen steps when a patch of snow falling from the brambles well in front informed him that something was afoot. On the instant he stopped to listen, whilst his restless eyes sought the likely points of escape, and the gun shook in his nervous hands. As the otters did not show, he felt sure they were stealing away before him, and carefully watched some reeds into which they must pass on leaving the thicket57. Seeing a slight agitation in the stems, he tore like a madman through the rest of the scrub, and stood at the edge ready to shoot. But, too excited to await the otters’ pleasure, after the briefest delay he advanced again, not however with the reckless strides of a few moments before, but with gingerly tread, as if now that the supreme58 moment had come he was apprehensive59 of dislodging the creatures he was so eager to kill. He had taken a few cautious steps when there was a slight rustling60; then, to his dismay, a bittern rose and flew down the creek. Up went the gun, the fore-finger found, but did not pull, the trigger; and the bird escaped without further scare. It was a terrible disappointment, under which the old man collapsed61. The gun fell from his shoulder; his jaw62 dropped; the eyes, but an instant before full of fire, were dull and listless. He seemed inches shorter as he staggered through the reeds and along the gully towards a small enclosure about which the banks rose almost sheer.
‘Niver can be in the Piskies’ Parlour to be sure; and yet how could they get out?’
The words were scarcely out of his mouth when his eyes fell on the fresh marks against the face of the scarp. Then he saw the footprints left on the snow by the otters as they sprang to the lowest ledge63.
‘Has the frost touched my brain, or the little folks my eyes? Nonsense! nothin’ of the kind; thee’rt seein’ things as they are. Well, well,’ he went on after drawing a long breath, ‘I’ve been wanderin’ about the ma’sh for wellnigh fifty year, and come on many tracks, but never prents like these. Lor mercy! must be a mighty64 big varmint as left ’em. What a catch if only I could ha’ bagged un!’
The sight of the footprints had put fresh life into him; he determined to follow as far as he could.
‘I’m bone-tired, but I’ll see it through if I drop on the track.’
Only a cat could follow where the otters had climbed; so he made his way back to the creek and clambered up the high bank to the wind-swept ridge65 leading to the cliffs. A forlorn figure the old man looked as he fought his way in the teeth of the gale to the brink66 of the precipice67, only to find the trail end on a slab68 of rock, from which the spray had washed some of the snow that covered it.
‘It’s all up,’ he said, turning his eyes to the great pile of loose rocks farther along the cliff; ‘they’re gone to clitter. Now, old fool, goest home along.’
After a glance at the sea, on which not a sail or a wing showed, he made his way to the point of the bluff69 above the mere, and letting himself carefully over the edge, succeeded by clinging to rock and tussock in making the descent without mishap70. At the foot he stood awhile to rest; then, presently, set out across the snowfield for the cottage, his thoughts full of the otter, which however he had given up all hope of getting.
So convinced was he that the creatures were in the cliff that he attached no importance to the trail he stumbled on in the midst of the mere, till he came to the spot where the tracks forked; but there he awoke to the significance of the situation.
‘Oh, oh,’ said he, as he checked his steps, ‘so this was where you parted, was it?—one for the reed-bed, t’other for up along, the withies most like.’
After a pause he added with a chuckle71, ‘Jack oter, you’re mine yet.’
At the thought of the valuable prize falling to him he was all life and energy again: the vigour72 of his stride showed it as he stepped along the furrow73 made by the otter, with eyes fixed74 on the isolated75 clump76 near the inflow through which he expected it would pass. His surprise and excitement may be imagined when on reaching it and ringing it, he found no sign of track on the snow beyond.
‘Niver can be in this morsel77 of a patch,’ said he under his breath, as he took up a station between it and the reed-bed he felt sure the otter would make for. ‘Yet eh must be, eh must be.’ Then, raising his voice, he called out, ‘King Oter, thy time is come; show thyself and get the business over.’ With that he began to beat the reeds with the gun, trampling the stems as he advanced. In the midst of the clump he came on the couch. He stooped quickly and felt that it was warm. ‘I knawed thee was theere,’ said he; and crack, crack, crack went the reeds as he levelled them with the ground.
Less than a dozen yards of cover remained when the old man, in his anxiety to get a glimpse of the otter, knelt down and peeped through the stems. Only the head of the otter showed, but the eyes of man and beast met. Before the marshman could regain51 his feet, the creature had bolted, making wild leaps in its attempt to escape. Bang! bang! first one barrel, then the other; and the old man, who believed he had wounded the animal, started in mad pursuit. For a few strides he actually gained on the short-legged creature: but for want of breath he might have overtaken it. As it was, all he could do after covering a score yards was to lament78 his helplessness, and watch the huge dark form draw farther and farther away. ‘What a grand beast!’ he gasped79 again and again; then suddenly, ‘He’s down!’ he exclaimed, starting to run. But the otter was not down: not a pellet had struck him: he was only lost to sight in a drift. When he reappeared near the bar, the excited marshman saw his error, and once more stood to watch. On reaching the ridge the otter ran along it, showing his magnificent proportions. Once he stopped to look back at his enemy; a few moments later he disappeared from view, and the old man turned on his heel and made for home.
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1
marsh
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| n.沼泽，湿地 | |
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bustling
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| adj.喧闹的 | |
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descried
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| adj.被注意到的，被发现的，被看到的 | |
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badger
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| v.一再烦扰，一再要求，纠缠 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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decrepitude
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| n.衰老；破旧 | |
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exultingly
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| 兴高采烈地，得意地 | |
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pelt
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| v.投掷，剥皮，抨击，开火 | |
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pelts
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| n. 皮毛，投掷, 疾行 vt. 剥去皮毛，（连续）投掷 vi. 猛击，大步走 | |
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dwindling
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| adj.逐渐减少的v.逐渐变少或变小( dwindle的现在分词 ) | |
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thatch
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| vt.用茅草覆盖…的顶部；n.茅草(屋) | |
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otter
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| n.水獭 | |
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otters
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| n.（水）獭( otter的名词复数 )；獭皮 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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hearth
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| n.壁炉炉床，壁炉地面 | |
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brass
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| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
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pegs
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| n.衣夹( peg的名词复数 )；挂钉；系帐篷的桩；弦钮v.用夹子或钉子固定( peg的第三人称单数 )；使固定在某水平 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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complacent
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| adj.自满的；自鸣得意的 | |
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steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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dreaded
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| adj.令人畏惧的；害怕的v.害怕，恐惧，担心( dread的过去式和过去分词) | |
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pane
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| n.窗格玻璃，长方块 | |
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muzzle
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| n.鼻口部；口套；枪(炮)口；vt.使缄默 | |
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swerved
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| v.（使）改变方向，改变目的( swerve的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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forager
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| n.强征（粮食）者；抢劫者 | |
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forestalled
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| v.先发制人，预先阻止( forestall的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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gale
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| n.大风，强风，一阵闹声（尤指笑声等） | |
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plodded
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| v.沉重缓慢地走（路）( plod的过去式和过去分词 )；努力从事；沉闷地苦干；缓慢进行（尤指艰难枯燥的工作） | |
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appreciably
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| adv.相当大地 | |
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fluted
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| a.有凹槽的 | |
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sanguine
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| adj.充满希望的，乐观的，血红色的 | |
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numbed
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| v.使麻木，使麻痹( numb的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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tightened
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| 收紧( tighten的过去式和过去分词 )； （使）变紧； （使）绷紧； 加紧 | |
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daunt
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| vt.使胆怯，使气馁 | |
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smothering
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| （使）窒息， （使）透不过气( smother的现在分词 )； 覆盖； 忍住； 抑制 | |
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lured
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| 吸引，引诱（lure的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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brittle
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| adj.易碎的；脆弱的；冷淡的；(声音)尖利的 | |
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creek
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| n.小溪，小河，小湾 | |
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gambols
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| v.蹦跳，跳跃，嬉戏( gambol的第三人称单数 ) | |
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misgivings
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| n.疑虑，担忧，害怕；疑虑，担心，恐惧( misgiving的名词复数 )；疑惧 | |
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tangle
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| n.纠缠；缠结；混乱；v.(使)缠绕；变乱 | |
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thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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quarry
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| n.采石场；v.采石；费力地找 | |
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trampling
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| 踩( trample的现在分词 )； 践踏； 无视； 侵犯 | |
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cleft
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| n.裂缝；adj.裂开的 | |
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recess
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| n.短期休息，壁凹（墙上装架子，柜子等凹处） | |
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hurled
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| v.猛投，用力掷( hurl的过去式和过去分词 )；大声叫骂 | |
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agility
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| n.敏捷，活泼 | |
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exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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growled
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| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的过去式和过去分词 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
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regain
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| vt.重新获得，收复，恢复 | |
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regaining
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| 复得( regain的现在分词 )； 赢回； 重回； 复至某地 | |
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agitated
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| adj.被鼓动的，不安的 | |
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agitation
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| n.搅动；搅拌；鼓动，煽动 | |
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copper
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| n.铜；铜币；铜器；adj.铜(制)的；(紫)铜色的 | |
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trample
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| vt.踩，践踏；无视，伤害，侵犯 | |
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thicket
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| n.灌木丛，树林 | |
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supreme
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| adj.极度的，最重要的；至高的，最高的 | |
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apprehensive
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| adj.担心的，恐惧的，善于领会的 | |
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rustling
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| n. 瑟瑟声，沙沙声 adj. 发沙沙声的 | |
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collapsed
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| adj.倒塌的 | |
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jaw
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| n.颚，颌，说教，流言蜚语；v.喋喋不休，教训 | |
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ledge
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| n.壁架，架状突出物；岩架，岩礁 | |
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mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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ridge
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| n.山脊；鼻梁；分水岭 | |
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66
brink
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| n.(悬崖、河流等的)边缘，边沿 | |
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67
precipice
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| n.悬崖，危急的处境 | |
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68
slab
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| n.平板，厚的切片；v.切成厚板，以平板盖上 | |
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bluff
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| v.虚张声势，用假象骗人；n.虚张声势，欺骗 | |
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70
mishap
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| n.不幸的事，不幸；灾祸 | |
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chuckle
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| vi.／n.轻声笑，咯咯笑 | |
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vigour
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| （=vigor）n.智力，体力，精力 | |
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73
furrow
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| n.沟；垄沟；轨迹；车辙；皱纹 | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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isolated
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| adj.与世隔绝的 | |
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76
clump
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| n.树丛，草丛；vi.用沉重的脚步行走 | |
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morsel
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| n.一口，一点点 | |
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lament
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| n.悲叹，悔恨，恸哭；v.哀悼，悔恨，悲叹 | |
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gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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