'Stack up on that fer a high cyard,' approved Big Jim Belden, who had come down from his claim on Mazy May to spend Christmas, and who, as everyone knew, had been living the two months past on straight moose meat. 'Hain't fergot the hooch we-uns made on the Tanana, hey yeh?' 'Well, I guess yes. Boys, it would have done your hearts good to see that whole tribe fighting drunk—and all because of a glorious ferment4 of sugar and sour dough5. That was before your time,' Malemute Kid said as he turned to Stanley Prince, a young mining expert who had been in two years. 'No white women in the country then, and Mason wanted to get married. Ruth's father was chief of the Tananas, and objected, like the rest of the tribe. Stiff? Why, I used my last pound of sugar; finest work in that line I ever did in my life. You should have seen the chase, down the river and across the portage.' 'But the squaw?' asked Louis Savoy, the tall French Canadian, becoming interested; for he had heard of this wild deed when at Forty Mile the preceding winter.
Then Malemute Kid, who was a born raconteur7, told the unvarnished tale of the Northland Lochinvar. More than one rough adventurer of the North felt his heartstrings draw closer and experienced vague yearnings for the sunnier pastures of the Southland, where life promised something more than a barren struggle with cold and death.
'We struck the Yukon just behind the first ice run,' he concluded, 'and the tribe only a quarter of an hour behind. But that saved us; for the second run broke the jam above and shut them out. When they finally got into Nuklukyeto, the whole post was ready for them.
'And as to the forgathering, ask Father Roubeau here: he performed the ceremony.' The Jesuit took the pipe from his lips but could only express his gratification with patriarchal smiles, while Protestant and Catholic vigorously applauded.
'By gar!' ejaculated Louis Savoy, who seemed overcome by the romance of it. 'La petite squaw: mon Mason brav. By gar!' Then, as the first tin cups of punch went round, Bettles the Unquenchable sprang to his feet and struck up his favorite drinking song: 'There's Henry Ward8 Beecher And Sunday-school teachers, All drink of the sassafras root; But you bet all the same, If it had its right name, It's the juice of the forbidden fruit.'
'Oh, the juice of the forbidden fruit,' roared out the bacchanalian9 chorus, 'Oh, the juice of the forbidden fruit; But you bet all the same, If it had its right name, It's the juice of the forbidden fruit.'
Malemute Kid's frightful10 concoction11 did its work; the men of the camps and trails unbent in its genial12 glow, and jest and song and tales of past adventure went round the board.
Aliens from a dozen lands, they toasted each and all. It was the Englishman, Prince, who pledged 'Uncle Sam, the precocious13 infant of the New World'; the Yankee, Bettles, who drank to 'The Queen, God bless her'; and together, Savoy and Meyers, the German trader, clanged their cups to Alsace and Lorraine.
Then Malemute Kid arose, cup in hand, and glanced at the greased-paper window, where the frost stood full three inches thick. 'A health to the man on trail this night; may his grub hold out; may his dogs keep their legs; may his matches never miss fire.' Crack!
Crack! heard the familiar music of the dog whip, the whining15 howl of the Malemutes, and the crunch16 of a sled as it drew up to the cabin. Conversation languished17 while they waited the issue.
'An old-timer; cares for his dogs and then himself,' whispered Malemute Kid to Prince as they listened to the snapping jaws19 and the wolfish snarls20 and yelps21 of pain which proclaimed to their practiced ears that the stranger was beating back their dogs while he fed his own.
Then came the expected knock, sharp and confident, and the stranger entered.
Dazzled by the light, he hesitated a moment at the door, giving to all a chance for scrutiny22. He was a striking personage, and a most picturesque23 one, in his Arctic dress of wool and fur. Standing24 six foot two or three, with proportionate breadth of shoulders and depth of chest, his smooth-shaven face nipped by the cold to a gleaming pink, his long lashes26 and eyebrows27 white with ice, and the ear and neck flaps of his great wolfskin cap loosely raised, he seemed, of a verity28, the Frost King, just stepped in out of the night.
Clasped outside his Mackinaw jacket, a beaded belt held two large Colt's revolvers and a hunting knife, while he carried, in addition to the inevitable30 dog whip, a smokeless rifle of the largest bore and latest pattern. As he came forward, for all his step was firm and elastic31, they could see that fatigue32 bore heavily upon him.
An awkward silence had fallen, but his hearty33 'What cheer, my lads?' put them quickly at ease, and the next instant Malemute Kid and he had gripped hands. Though they had never met, each had heard of the other, and the recognition was mutual34. A sweeping35 introduction and a mug of punch were forced upon him before he could explain his errand.
How long since that basket sled, with three men and eight dogs, passed?' he asked.
'An even two days ahead. Are you after them?' 'Yes; my team. Run them off under my very nose, the cusses. I've gained two days on them already—pick them up on the next run.' 'Reckon they'll show spunk36?' asked Belden, in order to keep up the conversation, for Malemute Kid already had the coffeepot on and was busily frying bacon and moose meat.
The stranger significantly tapped his revolvers.
'When'd yeh leave Dawson?' 'Twelve o'clock.' 'Last night?'—as a matter of course.
'Today.' A murmur37 of surprise passed round the circle. And well it might; for it was just midnight, and seventy-five miles of rough river trail was not to be sneered38 at for a twelve hours' run.
The talk soon became impersonal39, however, harking back to the trails of childhood. As the young stranger ate of the rude fare Malemute Kid attentively40 studied his face. Nor was he long in deciding that it was fair, honest, and open, and that he liked it. Still youthful, the lines had been firmly traced by toil41 and hardship.
Though genial in conversation, and mild when at rest, the blue eyes gave promise of the hard steel-glitter which comes when called into action, especially against odds42. The heavy jaw18 and square-cut chin demonstrated rugged43 pertinacity44 and indomitability. Nor, though the attributes of the lion were there, was there wanting the certain softness, the hint of womanliness, which bespoke45 the emotional nature.
'So thet's how me an' the ol' woman got spliced,' said Belden, concluding the exciting tale of his courtship. '"Here we be, Dad," sez she. "An' may yeh be damned," sez he to her, an' then to me, "Jim, yeh—yeh git outen them good duds o' yourn; I want a right peart slice o' thet forty acre plowed46 'fore6 dinner." An' then he sort o' sniffled an' kissed her. An' I was thet happy—but he seen me an' roars out, "Yeh, Jim!" An' yeh bet I dusted fer the barn.' 'Any kids waiting for you back in the States?' asked the stranger.
'Nope; Sal died 'fore any come. Thet's why I'm here.' Belden abstractedly began to light his pipe, which had failed to go out, and then brightened up with, 'How 'bout47 yerself, stranger—married man?' For reply, he opened his watch, slipped it from the thong48 which served for a chain, and passed it over. Belden picked up the slush lamp, surveyed the inside of the case critically, and, swearing admiringly to himself, handed it over to Louis Savoy. With numerous 'By gars!' he finally surrendered it to Prince, and they noticed that his hands trembled and his eyes took on a peculiar49 softness. And so it passed from horny hand to horny hand—the pasted photograph of a woman, the clinging kind that such men fancy, with a babe at the breast. Those who had not yet seen the wonder were keen with curiosity; those who had became silent and retrospective. They could face the pinch of famine, the grip of scurvy50, or the quick death by field or flood; but the pictured semblance51 of a stranger woman and child made women and children of them all.
'Never have seen the youngster yet—he's a boy, she says, and two years old,' said the stranger as he received the treasure back. A lingering moment he gazed upon it, then snapped the case and turned away, but not quick enough to hide the restrained rush of tears. Malemute Kid led him to a bunk52 and bade him turn in.
'Call me at four sharp. Don't fail me,' were his last words, and a moment later he was breathing in the heaviness of exhausted53 sleep.
'By Jove! He's a plucky54 chap,' commented Prince. 'Three hours' sleep after seventy-five miles with the dogs, and then the trail again. Who is he, Kid?' 'Jack29 Westondale. Been in going on three years, with nothing but the name of working like a horse, and any amount of bad luck to his credit. I never knew him, but Sitka Charley told me about him.' 'It seems hard that a man with a sweet young wife like his should be putting in his years in this Godforsaken hole, where every year counts two on the outside.' 'The trouble with him is clean grit55 and stubbornness. He's cleaned up twice with a stake, but lost it both times.' Here the conversation was broken off by an uproar56 from Bettles, for the effect had begun to wear away. And soon the bleak57 years of monotonous58 grub and deadening toil were being forgotten in rough merriment. Malemute Kid alone seemed unable to lose himself, and cast many an anxious look at his watch. Once he put on his mittens59 and beaver-skin cap, and, leaving the cabin, fell to rummaging60 about in the cache.
Nor could he wait the hour designated; for he was fifteen minutes ahead of time in rousing his guest. The young giant had stiffened61 badly, and brisk rubbing was necessary to bring him to his feet. He tottered62 painfully out of the cabin, to find his dogs harnessed and everything ready for the start. The company wished him good luck and a short chase, while Father Roubeau, hurriedly blessing63 him, led the stampede for the cabin; and small wonder, for it is not good to face seventy-four degrees below zero with naked ears and hands.
'You'll find a hundred pounds of salmon eggs on the sled,' he said. 'The dogs will go as far on that as with one hundred and fifty of fish, and you can't get dog food at Pelly, as you probably expected.' The stranger started, and his eyes flashed, but he did not interrupt. 'You can't get an ounce of food for dog or man till you reach Five Fingers, and that's a stiff two hundred miles. Watch out for open water on the Thirty Mile River, and be sure you take the big cutoff above Le Barge65.' 'How did you know it? Surely the news can't be ahead of me already?' 'I don't know it; and what's more, I don't want to know it. But you never owned that team you're chasing. Sitka Charley sold it to them last spring. But he sized you up to me as square once, and I believe him. I've seen your face; I like it. And I've seen—why, damn you, hit the high places for salt water and that wife of yours, and—' Here the Kid unmittened and jerked out his sack.
'No; I don't need it,' and the tears froze on his cheeks as he convulsively gripped Malemute Kid's hand.
'Then don't spare the dogs; cut them out of the traces as fast as they drop; buy them, and think they're cheap at ten dollars a pound. You can get them at Five Fingers, Little Salmon, and Hootalinqua. And watch out for wet feet,' was his parting advice. 'Keep a-traveling up to twenty-five, but if it gets below that, build a fire and change your socks.'
Fifteen minutes had barely elapsed when the jingle66 of bells announced new arrivals. The door opened, and a mounted policeman of the Northwest Territory entered, followed by two half-breed dog drivers. Like Westondale, they were heavily armed and showed signs of fatigue. The half-breeds had been born to the trail and bore it easily; but the young policeman was badly exhausted. Still, the dogged obstinacy67 of his race held him to the pace he had set, and would hold him till he dropped in his tracks.
'When did Westondale pull out?' he asked. 'He stopped here, didn't he?' This was supererogatory, for the tracks told their own tale too well.
Malemute Kid had caught Belden's eye, and he, scenting68 the wind, replied evasively, 'A right peart while back.' 'Come, my man; speak up,' the policeman admonished69.
'Yeh seem to want him right smart. Hez he ben gittin' cantankerous70 down Dawson way?'
'Held up Harry71 McFarland's for forty thousand; exchanged it at the P.C. store for a check on Seattle; and who's to stop the cashing of it if we don't overtake him? When did he pull out?'
Every eye suppressed its excitement, for Malemute Kid had given the cue, and the young officer encountered wooden faces on every hand.
Striding over to Prince, he put the question to him. Though it hurt him, gazing into the frank, earnest face of his fellow countryman, he replied inconsequentially on the state of the trail.
Then he espied72 Father Roubeau, who could not lie. 'A quarter of an hour ago,' the priest answered; 'but he had four hours' rest for himself and dogs.' 'Fifteen minutes' start, and he's fresh! My God!' The poor fellow staggered back, half fainting from exhaustion73 and disappointment, murmuring something about the run from Dawson in ten hours and the dogs being played out.
Malemute Kid forced a mug of punch upon him; then he turned for the door, ordering the dog drivers to follow. But the warmth and promise of rest were too tempting74, and they objected strenuously75. The Kid was conversant76 with their French patois77, and followed it anxiously.
They swore that the dogs were gone up; that Siwash and Babette would have to be shot before the first mile was covered; that the rest were almost as bad; and that it would be better for all hands to rest up.
'Lend me five dogs?' he asked, turning to Malemute Kid.
But the Kid shook his head.
'I'll sign a check on Captain Constantine for five thousand—here's my papers—I'm authorized78 to draw at my own discretion79.'
Again the silent refusal.
'Then I'll requisition them in the name of the Queen.' Smiling incredulously, the Kid glanced at his well-stocked arsenal80, and the Englishman, realizing his impotency, turned for the door. But the dog drivers still objecting, he whirled upon them fiercely, calling them women and curs. The swart face of the older half-breed flushed angrily as he drew himself up and promised in good, round terms that he would travel his leader off his legs, and would then be delighted to plant him in the snow.
The young officer—and it required his whole will—walked steadily81 to the door, exhibiting a freshness he did not possess. But they all knew and appreciated his proud effort; nor could he veil the twinges of agony that shot across his face. Covered with frost, the dogs were curled up in the snow, and it was almost impossible to get them to their feet. The poor brutes82 whined83 under the stinging lash25, for the dog drivers were angry and cruel; nor till Babette, the leader, was cut from the traces, could they break out the sled and get under way.
It was evident that they were angry—first at the way they had been deceived; and second at the outraged84 ethics85 of the Northland, where honesty, above all, was man's prime jewel.
'An' we gave the cuss a hand, after knowin' what he'd did.' All eyes turned accusingly upon Malemute Kid, who rose from the corner where he had been making Babette comfortable, and silently emptied the bowl for a final round of punch.
'It's a cold night, boys—a bitter cold night,' was the irrelevant86 commencement of his defense87. 'You've all traveled trail, and know what that stands for. Don't jump a dog when he's down. You've only heard one side. A whiter man than Jack Westondale never ate from the same pot nor stretched blanket with you or me.
'Last fall he gave his whole clean-up, forty thousand, to Joe Castrell, to buy in on Dominion88. Today he'd be a millionaire. But, while he stayed behind at Circle City, taking care of his partner with the scurvy, what does Castell do? Goes into McFarland's, jumps the limit, and drops the whole sack. Found him dead in the snow the next day. And poor Jack laying his plans to go out this winter to his wife and the boy he's never seen. You'll notice he took exactly what his partner lost—forty thousand. Well, he's gone out; and what are you going to do about it?' The Kid glanced round the circle of his judges, noted89 the softening90 of their faces, then raised his mug aloft. 'So a health to the man on trail this night; may his grub hold out; may his dogs keep their legs; may his matches never miss fire.
'God prosper91 him; good luck go with him; and—' 'Confusion to the Mounted Police!' cried Bettles, to the crash of the empty cups.
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收听单词发音
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1
salmon
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| n.鲑，大马哈鱼，橙红色的 | |
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belly
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| n.肚子，腹部；(像肚子一样)鼓起的部分，膛 | |
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3
streak
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| n.条理，斑纹，倾向，少许，痕迹；v.加条纹，变成条纹，奔驰，快速移动 | |
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ferment
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| vt.使发酵；n./vt.（使）激动，（使）动乱 | |
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dough
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| n.生面团；钱，现款 | |
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fore
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| adv.在前面；adj.先前的；在前部的；n.前部 | |
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raconteur
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| n.善讲故事者 | |
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ward
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| n.守卫，监护，病房，行政区，由监护人或法院保护的人（尤指儿童）；vt.守护，躲开 | |
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bacchanalian
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| adj.闹酒狂饮的；n.发酒疯的人 | |
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frightful
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| adj.可怕的；讨厌的 | |
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concoction
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| n.调配(物)；谎言 | |
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genial
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| adj.亲切的，和蔼的，愉快的，脾气好的 | |
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precocious
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| adj.早熟的；较早显出的 | |
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liar
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| n.说谎的人 | |
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whining
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| n. 抱怨，牢骚 v. 哭诉，发牢骚 | |
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crunch
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| n.关键时刻；艰难局面；v.发出碎裂声 | |
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languished
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| 长期受苦( languish的过去式和过去分词 )； 受折磨； 变得（越来越）衰弱； 因渴望而变得憔悴或闷闷不乐 | |
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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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jaws
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| n.口部；嘴 | |
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snarls
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| n.（动物的）龇牙低吼( snarl的名词复数 )；愤怒叫嚷（声）；咆哮（声）；疼痛叫声v.（指狗）吠，嗥叫， （人）咆哮( snarl的第三人称单数 )；咆哮着说，厉声地说 | |
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yelps
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| n.（因痛苦、气愤、兴奋等的）短而尖的叫声( yelp的名词复数 )v.发出短而尖的叫声( yelp的第三人称单数 ) | |
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scrutiny
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| n.详细检查，仔细观察 | |
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picturesque
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| adj.美丽如画的，（语言）生动的，绘声绘色的 | |
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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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lash
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| v.系牢；鞭打；猛烈抨击；n.鞭打；眼睫毛 | |
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lashes
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| n.鞭挞( lash的名词复数 )；鞭子；突然猛烈的一击；急速挥动v.鞭打( lash的第三人称单数 )；煽动；紧系；怒斥 | |
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eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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verity
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| n.真实性 | |
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jack
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| n.插座，千斤顶，男人；v.抬起，提醒，扛举；n.（Jake）杰克 | |
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inevitable
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| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
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elastic
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| n.橡皮圈，松紧带；adj.有弹性的；灵活的 | |
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fatigue
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| n.疲劳，劳累 | |
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hearty
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| adj.热情友好的；衷心的；尽情的，纵情的 | |
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mutual
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| adj.相互的，彼此的；共同的，共有的 | |
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sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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spunk
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| n.勇气，胆量 | |
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murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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sneered
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| 讥笑，冷笑( sneer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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impersonal
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| adj.无个人感情的，与个人无关的，非人称的 | |
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attentively
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| adv.聚精会神地；周到地；谛；凝神 | |
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41
toil
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| vi.辛劳工作，艰难地行动；n.苦工，难事 | |
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42
odds
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| n.让步，机率，可能性，比率；胜败优劣之别 | |
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43
rugged
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| adj.高低不平的，粗糙的，粗壮的，强健的 | |
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pertinacity
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| n.执拗，顽固 | |
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45
bespoke
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| adj.（产品）订做的；专做订货的v.预定( bespeak的过去式 )；订（货）；证明；预先请求 | |
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46
plowed
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| v.耕( plow的过去式和过去分词 )；犁耕；费力穿过 | |
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bout
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| n.侵袭，发作；一次(阵，回)；拳击等比赛 | |
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48
thong
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| n.皮带；皮鞭；v.装皮带 | |
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49
peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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50
scurvy
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| adj.下流的，卑鄙的，无礼的；n.坏血病 | |
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51
semblance
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| n.外貌，外表 | |
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bunk
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| n.(车、船等倚壁而设的)铺位；废话 | |
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53
exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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54
plucky
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| adj.勇敢的 | |
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55
grit
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| n.沙粒，决心，勇气；v.下定决心，咬紧牙关 | |
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56
uproar
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| n.骚动，喧嚣，鼎沸 | |
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57
bleak
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| adj.(天气)阴冷的；凄凉的；暗淡的 | |
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monotonous
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| adj.单调的，一成不变的，使人厌倦的 | |
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mittens
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| 不分指手套 | |
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rummaging
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| 翻找，搜寻( rummage的现在分词 )； 海关检查 | |
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stiffened
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| 加强的 | |
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tottered
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| v.走得或动得不稳( totter的过去式和过去分词 )；踉跄；蹒跚；摇摇欲坠 | |
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blessing
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| n.祈神赐福；祷告；祝福，祝愿 | |
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heartily
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| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
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barge
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| n.平底载货船，驳船 | |
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jingle
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| n.叮当声，韵律简单的诗句；v.使叮当作响，叮当响，押韵 | |
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obstinacy
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| n.顽固；（病痛等）难治 | |
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scenting
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| vt.闻到（scent的现在分词形式） | |
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admonished
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| v.劝告( admonish的过去式和过去分词 )；训诫；（温和地）责备；轻责 | |
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cantankerous
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| adj.爱争吵的，脾气不好的 | |
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harry
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| vt.掠夺，蹂躏，使苦恼 | |
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espied
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| v.看到( espy的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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exhaustion
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| n.耗尽枯竭，疲惫，筋疲力尽，竭尽，详尽无遗的论述 | |
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tempting
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| a.诱人的, 吸引人的 | |
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strenuously
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| adv.奋发地，费力地 | |
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conversant
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| adj.亲近的，有交情的，熟悉的 | |
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patois
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| n.方言；混合语 | |
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authorized
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| a.委任的，许可的 | |
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discretion
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| n.谨慎；随意处理 | |
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arsenal
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| n.兵工厂，军械库 | |
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steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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brutes
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| 兽( brute的名词复数 )； 畜生； 残酷无情的人； 兽性 | |
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whined
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| v.哀号( whine的过去式和过去分词 )；哀诉，诉怨 | |
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outraged
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| a.震惊的，义愤填膺的 | |
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ethics
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| n.伦理学；伦理观，道德标准 | |
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irrelevant
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| adj.不恰当的，无关系的，不相干的 | |
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defense
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| n.防御，保卫；[pl.]防务工事；辩护，答辩 | |
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dominion
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| n.统治，管辖，支配权；领土，版图 | |
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noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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softening
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| 变软，软化 | |
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prosper
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| v.成功，兴隆，昌盛；使成功，使昌隆，繁荣 | |
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