It was an extraordinary experience to climb out of an almost tropical summer into a land where the trees were only just budding, and the snowdrop and crocus were in bloom, and where the snow had not yet melted from the road. I had started on a Sunday when the weather approximated to that of July; on Friday I had reached March, and on Saturday I was in mid-winter.
I passed through Oni, an unusual town, in which scarcely a new house has been built since the twelfth century, and which is now inhabited by a tribe of mountain Jews living in peculiar2 isolation3. This was on Thursday afternoon, and I spent the night in an inn 195nine miles north, at the little town of Utsera, now fast becoming a popular health resort though a hundred miles from a railway station. It is about the height of Mount Snowdon, on the fringe of an ancient pine forest. At Utsera it was raining on the Friday morning. At the next village, Glola, a thousand feet higher, the rain was changed for sleet4. The road ascends5 through a fir wood said to be the grandest in the Caucasus; the pines are as broad-trunked as some of our famous oaks, and they rise straight as a die to almost incredible height. Their ancient hoariness6 and greyness add to their majestic7 appearance.
I was now nearing the neck of the mountains and stormy Mamison. The Rion, broad at Kutais, was here but a small torrent8. The road, if such it can be called, was traversed by many cascades9 and broken away by rocks and rivers, so that a horseman could pass only with difficulty. To vehicular traffic it was completely closed. Sitting at any point of the road one could count literally10 scores of uprooted11 pines. Above Glola the sun came out, the same hot Caucasian sun, though tempered by the cold air, and, as if to pretend that summer was there, the Camberwell Beauty butterfly (of name obviously not universal) flitted to and fro flaunting12 its purple and gold. Under the pine trees were wild snowdrops thick clustered, and on the roadway even little purple crocuses.
The road became difficult to manage, two bridges 196having been entirely13 washed away. I had at one point to leap fifteen feet on to a black snowdrift, which I feared might give under me. But I succeeded and won my way to Gurshevi. That was the first village of the Ossetines, and had generally a bad name. Some years ago an explorer and two guides disappeared entirely in this region, and have never been heard of since. And I had an adventure there which greatly alarmed me. I had not stopped at the village; it was difficult of access, being upon a cliff, and I strode forward toward the pass. But a verst forward on the road I was hailed from a distance by four roughs, who demanded a rouble. I hurried on. They called “Stop!” But I paid no attention, seeing that they were extremely heavily clad and could not hope to catch me up; they were in a valley about five hundred feet below. The road, however, was extraordinarily15 tortuous16, and if I had only climbed straight up the cliff to the pass I should have saved myself at least five miles walking, and my encounter with the roughs into the bargain. They were able to cut me off and get into hiding among the boulders17 and rocks above the road. My position was sufficiently18 dangerous, but I did not guess their intention; they had no guns. Fortunately I caught sight of one of them running from one rock to another, and when I came to the district I stopped short and demanded of my hidden enemies what they wanted. For answer a large lump of rock came whizzing 197through the air within two inches of my head. Had I been struck I should have been stunned19. Whilst I was deliberating a second followed, almost more terrifying than the first, and coming with great force, being hurled20 from above. No one was to be seen. There was but one thing to do. I lifted up my legs and sprinted21.
I did not cease running till I was well up the pass and in a region where there were no loose rocks to be found. The snowy peaks had now become unveiled, and the fir forest was left behind. I thought that if I hurried I might get over the pass that day. My assailants were far behind. I did not fear another ambush22. What was my surprise, however, to see suddenly in front of me two men walking towards me. Their dog rushed at me. I received him with equanimity23, being much more afraid of men than of beasts. They told me there was no road for ten versts and would not be for a month, and they advised me to go back to Gurshevi. I listened with trepidation24 and could not believe what they said. I agreed to their advice, however, but said I would rest a little as I was very tired, and bade them go on in front. When they were out of sight I left the road abruptly25 and struck straight up the turfy bank towards the pass. I crossed the circuitous26 road three times and came to the region of continuous unmelted snow. I dragged myself through a mile of “slosh,” where a profusion27 of yellow water-lilies were growing, and for the best part of an hour I strove 198to find the road again. When I found it and followed it I came rapidly to snow too soft and deep to pass; indeed, twenty yards in front the road was perfectly28 lost in the snow, unmarked by undulation or rift14 in the even whiteness.
I was desperate, but I felt sure there was a way, for I had heard of hillmen coming from Utsera, and had been even counselled to wait for a companion there. I resolved to get a shepherd to show me the way, and with that in view climbed awkwardly downhill to the turfy region, where a flock was browsing29. Yes, there was a way—one quite different from the road; an Ossetine shepherd offered to show me for a shilling. I agreed on condition that he first gave me a glass of milk, for I was exhausted30 and had eaten nothing since morning. This man was friendly enough, but on consideration he thought it impossible to show me that night. I should have to wait until next morning. I might sleep with them in their koutan if I didn’t mind the filth31; they would make a bonfire and a big supper. His mate, Gudaev, would play the fiddle32; I could sing. He would roast two quails33 which Achmet had killed; they would all have a jolly evening, and to-morrow morning very early he would take me and show me the track. Very thankfully I agreed.
点击收听单词发音
1 crests | |
v.到达山顶(或浪峰)( crest的第三人称单数 );到达洪峰,达到顶点 | |
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2 peculiar | |
adj.古怪的,异常的;特殊的,特有的 | |
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3 isolation | |
n.隔离,孤立,分解,分离 | |
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4 sleet | |
n.雨雪;v.下雨雪,下冰雹 | |
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5 ascends | |
v.上升,攀登( ascend的第三人称单数 ) | |
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6 hoariness | |
n.灰白,老年;古老 | |
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7 majestic | |
adj.雄伟的,壮丽的,庄严的,威严的,崇高的 | |
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8 torrent | |
n.激流,洪流;爆发,(话语等的)连发 | |
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9 cascades | |
倾泻( cascade的名词复数 ); 小瀑布(尤指一连串瀑布中的一支); 瀑布状物; 倾泻(或涌出)的东西 | |
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10 literally | |
adv.照字面意义,逐字地;确实 | |
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11 uprooted | |
v.把(某物)连根拔起( uproot的过去式和过去分词 );根除;赶走;把…赶出家园 | |
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12 flaunting | |
adj.招摇的,扬扬得意的,夸耀的v.炫耀,夸耀( flaunt的现在分词 );有什么能耐就施展出来 | |
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13 entirely | |
ad.全部地,完整地;完全地,彻底地 | |
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14 rift | |
n.裂口,隙缝,切口;v.裂开,割开,渗入 | |
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15 extraordinarily | |
adv.格外地;极端地 | |
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16 tortuous | |
adj.弯弯曲曲的,蜿蜒的 | |
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17 boulders | |
n.卵石( boulder的名词复数 );巨砾;(受水或天气侵蚀而成的)巨石;漂砾 | |
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18 sufficiently | |
adv.足够地,充分地 | |
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19 stunned | |
adj. 震惊的,惊讶的 动词stun的过去式和过去分词 | |
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20 hurled | |
v.猛投,用力掷( hurl的过去式和过去分词 );大声叫骂 | |
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21 sprinted | |
v.短距离疾跑( sprint的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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22 ambush | |
n.埋伏(地点);伏兵;v.埋伏;伏击 | |
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23 equanimity | |
n.沉着,镇定 | |
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24 trepidation | |
n.惊恐,惶恐 | |
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25 abruptly | |
adv.突然地,出其不意地 | |
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26 circuitous | |
adj.迂回的路的,迂曲的,绕行的 | |
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27 profusion | |
n.挥霍;丰富 | |
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28 perfectly | |
adv.完美地,无可非议地,彻底地 | |
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29 browsing | |
v.吃草( browse的现在分词 );随意翻阅;(在商店里)随便看看;(在计算机上)浏览信息 | |
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30 exhausted | |
adj.极其疲惫的,精疲力尽的 | |
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31 filth | |
n.肮脏,污物,污秽;淫猥 | |
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32 fiddle | |
n.小提琴;vi.拉提琴;不停拨弄,乱动 | |
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33 quails | |
鹌鹑( quail的名词复数 ); 鹌鹑肉 | |
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