The golden pygmies hissed2; their yellow eyes were molten with hatred3.
The little man touched my hand, talking in the rapid trilling syllables4, and pointing over the white river. Clearly he was telling me we must cross it. He stopped, listening. The little woman ran down the broken stairs. The little man twittered angrily, darted5 to Jim, beat at his legs with his fists as though to arouse him, then shot after the woman.
“Snap out of it, Indian!” I said, impatiently. “They want us to hurry.”
He shook his head, like a man shaking away the last cobwebs of some dream.
We sped down the broken steps. The little man was waiting for us; or at least he had not run away, for, if waiting for us, he was doing so, in a most singular manner. He was dancing in a small circle, waving his arms and hands oddly, and trilling a weird6 melody upon four notes, repeated over and over in varying progressions. The woman was nowhere in sight.
A wolf howled. It was answered by other wolves farther away in the flowered forest-like a hunting pack whose leader has found the scent7.
The little woman came racing8 through the fem brake; the little man stopped dancing. Her hands were filled with small purplish fruits resembling fox-grapes. The little man pointed9 toward the white river, and they set off through the screening brake of ferns. We followed.
We came out of the brake, crossed the blue sward and stood on the bank of the river.
The howl of the wolf sounded again, answered by the others, and closer.
The little man leaped upon me, twittering frantically10; he twined his legs about my waist and strove to tear my shirt from me. The woman was trilling at Jim, waving in her hands the bunches of purple fruit.
“They want us to take off our clothes,” said Jim. “They want us to be quick about it.”
We stripped, hastily. There was a crevice11 in the bank into which I pushed the pack. Quickly we rolled up our clothes and boots, and threw a strap12 around them and slung13 them over our shoulders.
The little woman threw a handful of the purple fruit to her man. She motioned Jim to bend, and as he did so she squeezed the berries over his head and hands, his breasts and thighs14 and feet. The little man was doing the same for me. The fruit had an oddly pungent15 odour that made my eyes water.
I straightened up and looked out over the white river.
The head of a serpent broke through its milky16 surface; then another and another. Their heads were as large as those of the anaconda, and were scaled in vivid emerald. They were crested17 by brilliant green spines18 which continued along their backs and were revealed as they swirled19 and twisted in the white water. Quite definitely, I did not like plunging20 into that water, but now I thought I knew the purpose of our anointing, and that most certainly the golden pygmies intended us no harm. And just as certainly, I assumed, they knew what they were about.
The howling of the wolves came once more, not only much nearer, but from the direction along which had gone the troop of women.
The little man dived into the water, motioning me to follow. I obeyed, and heard the small splash of the woman and the louder one of Jim. The little man glanced back at me, nodded, and began to swim across like an eel21, at a speed that I found difficult to emulate22.
The crested serpents did not molest23 us. Once I felt the slither of scales across my loins; once I shook the water from my eyes to find one of them swimming beside me, matching in play my speed, or so it seemed; racing me.
The water was warm, as warm as the milk it resembled, and curiously24 buoyant. The river at this point was about a thousand feet wide. I had covered half of it when I heard a shrill25 shriek26 and felt the buffeting27 of wings about my head. I rolled over, beating up with my hands to drive off whatever it was that had attacked me.
It was the white falcon28 of the Wolf-woman, hovering29, dropping, rising again, threshing me with its pinions30!
I heard a cry from the bank, a bell-like contralto, vibrant31, imperious — in archaic32 Uighur:
“Come back! Come back. Yellow-hair!”
I swung round to see. The falcon ceased its bufferings. Upon the farther bank was the Wolf-woman upon her great black mare33, the captive girl still clasped in her ann. The Wolf-woman’s eyes were like sapphire34 stars, her free hand was raised in summons.
And all around her, heads lowered, glaring at me with eyes as green as hers were blue, was a pack of snow-white wolves!
“Come back!” she cried again.
She was very beautiful — the Wolf-woman. It would not have been hard to have obeyed. But no — she was not a Wolf-woman! What was she? Into my mind came a Uighur word, an ancient word that I had not blown I knew. She was the Salur’da — the Witch-woman. And with it came angry resentment35 of her summons. Who was she — the Salur’da — to command me! Me, Dwayanu, who in olden time long forgot would have had her whipped with scorpions36 for such insolence37!
I raised myself high above the white water.
“Back to your den1, Salur’da!” I shouted. “Does Dwayanu come to your call? When I summon you, then see that you obey!”
She stared at me, stark38 amazement39 in her eyes; the strong arm that held the girl relaxed so that the captive almost dropped from the mare’s high pommel. I struck out across the water to the farther shore.
I heard the Witch-woman whistle. The falcon circling round my head screamed, and flew. I heard the white wolves snarling40; I heard the thud of the black mare’s hoofs41 racing over the blue sward. I reached the bank and climbed it. Only then did I turn. Witch-woman, falcon and white wolves — all of them were gone.
Across my wake the emerald-headed, emerald-crested serpents swam and swirled and dived.
The golden pygmies had climbed upon the bank.
Jim asked:
“What did you say to her?”
“The Witch-woman comes to my call — not I to hers,” I answered, and wondered as I did so what it was that compelled the words.
“Still very much — Dwayanu, aren’t you, Leif? What touched the trigger on you this time?”
“I don’t know.” The inexplicable42 resentment against the woman was still strong, and, because I could not understand it, irritating to a degree. “She ordered me to come back, and a little fire-cracker went off in my brain. Then I— I seemed to know her for what she is, and that her command was rank insolence. I told her so. She was no more surprised by what I said than I am. It was like someone else speaking. It was like —”
I hesitated —“well, it was like when I started that cursed ritual and couldn’t stop.”
He nodded, then began to put on his clothes. I followed suit. They were soaking wet. The pygmies watched us wriggle43 into them with frank amazement. I noticed that the angry red around the wound on the little man’s breast had paled, and that while the wound itself was raw, it was not deep and had already begun to heal. I looked at my own hand; the red had almost disappeared, and only a slight tenderness betrayed where the nectar had touched it.
When we had laced our boots, the golden pygmies trotted44 off, away from the river toward a line of cliffs about a mile ahead. The vaporous green light half hid them, as it had wholly hidden our view to the north when we had first looked over the valley. For half the distance the ground was level and covered with the blue flowered grass. Then ferns began, steadily45 growing higher. We came upon a trail little wider than a deer path which threaded into a greater brake. Into this we turned.
We had eaten nothing since early morning, and I thought regretfully of the pack I had left behind. However, it is my training to eat heartily46 when I can, and philosophically47 go without when I must. So I tightened48 my belt and glanced back at Jim, close upon my heels.
“Hungry?” I asked.
“No. Too busy thinking.”
“Indian — what brought the red-headed beauty back?”
“The wolves. Didn’t you hear them howling after her? They found our track and gave her the signal.”
“I thought so — but it’s incredible! Hell — then she is a Witch-woman.”
“Not because of that. You’re forgetting your Mowgli and the Grey Companions. Wolves aren’t hard to train. But she’s a Witch-woman, nevertheless. Don’t hold back Dwayanu when you deal with her, Leif.”
The little drums again began to beat. At first only a few, then steadily more and more until there were scores of them. This time the cadences49 were lilting, gay, tapping out a dancing rhythm that lifted all weariness. They did not seem far away. But now the ferns were high over our heads and impenetrable to the sight, and the narrow path wove in and out among them like a meandering50 stream
The pygmies hastened their pace. Suddenly the trail came out of the ferns, and the pair halted. In front of us the ground sloped sharply upward for three or four hundred feet. The slope, except where the path ran, was covered from bottom to top with a tangle51 of thick green vines studded along all their lengths with wicked three-inch thorns; a living chaweux-de-frise which no living creature would penetrate52. At the end of the path was a squat53 tower of stone, and from this came the glint of spear-heads.
In the tower a shrill-voiced drum chattered54 an unmistakable alarm. Instantly the lilting drums were silent. The same shrill chatter55 was taken up and repeated from point to point, diminishing in the far distance; and now I saw that the slope was like an immense circular fortification, curving far out toward the unbroken palisade of the giant ferns, and retreating at our right toward the sheer wall of black cliff, far away. Everywhere upon it was the thicket56 of thorn.
The little man twittered to his woman, and walked up the trail toward the tower. He was met by other pygmies streaming out of it. The little woman stayed with us, nodding and smiling and patting our knees reassuringly57.
Another drum, or a trio of them, began to beat from the tower. I thought there were three because their burden was on three different notes, soft, caressing58, yet far-carrying. They sang a word, a name, those drums, as plainly as though they had lips, the name I had heard in the trilling of the pygmies . . . .
Ev-ah-lee . . . Ev-ah-lee . . . Ev-ah-lee . . . Over and over and over. The drums in the other towers were silent.
The little man beckoned59 us. We went forward, avoiding with difficulty the thorns. We came to the top of the path beside the small tower. A score of the little men stepped out and barred our way. None was taller than the one I had saved from the white flowers. All had the same golden skin, the same half-animal yellow eyes; like his, their hair was long and silky, floating almost to their tiny feet, They wore twisted loin-cloths of what appeared to be cotton; around their waists were broad girdles of silver, pierced like lace-work in intricate designs. Their spears were wicked weapons for all their apparent frailty60, long-handled, hafted in some black wood, and with foot-deep points of red metal, and barbed like a muskalonge hook from tip to base. Swung on their backs were black bows with long arrows barbed in similar manner; and in their metal girdles were slender sickle-shaped knives of the red metal, like scimitars of gnomes61.
They stood staring at us, like small children. They made me feel as Gulliver must have felt among the Liliputians. Also, there was that about them which gave me no desire to tempt62 them to use their weapons. They looked at Jim with curiosity and interest and with no trace of unfriendliness. They looked at me with little faces that grew hard and fierce. Only when their eyes roved to my yellow hair did I see wonder and doubt lighten suspicion — but they never dropped the points of the spears turned toward me.
Ev-ah-lee . . . Ev-ah-lee . . . Ev-ah-lee . . . sang the drums.
There was an answering roll from beyond, and they were silent.
I heard a sweet, low-pitched voice at the other side of the tower trilling the bird-like syllables of the Little People — And then — I saw Evalie.
Have you watched a willow63 bough64 swaying in spring above some clear sylvan65 pool, or a slender birch dancing with the wind in a secret woodland and covert66, or the flitting green shadows in a deep forest glade67 which are dryads half-tempted to reveal themselves? I thought of them as she came toward us.
She was a dark girl, and a tall girl. Her eyes were brown under long black lashes68, the clear brown of the mountain brook69 in autumn; her hair was black, the jetty hair that in a certain light has a sheen of darkest blue. Her face was small, her features certainly neither classic nor regular — the brows almost meeting in two level lines above her small, straight nose; her mouth was large but finely cut, and sensitive. Over her broad, low forehead the blue-black hair was braided like a coronal Her skin was clear amber70. Like polished fine amber it shone under the loose, yet clinging, garment that clothed her, knee-long, silvery, cobweb fine and transparent71. Around her hips72 was the white loin-cloth of the Little People. Unlike them, her feet were sandalled.
But it was the grace of her that made the breath catch in your throat as you looked at her, the long flowing line from ankle to shoulder, delicate and mobile as the curve of water flowing over some smooth breast of rock, a liquid grace of line that changed with every movement.
It was that — and the life that bumed in her like the green flame of the virgin73 forest when the kisses of spring are being changed for the warmer caresses74 of summer. I knew now why the old Greeks had believed in the dryads, the naiads, the nereids — the woman souls of trees, of brooks75 and waterfalls and fountains, and of the waves.
I could not tell how old she was — hers was the pagan beauty which knows no age.
She examined me, my clothes and boots, in manifest perplexity; she glanced at Jim, nodded, as though to say there was nothing in him to be disturbed about; then turned back to me, studying me. The small soldiers ringed her, their spears ready.
The little man and his woman had stepped forward. They were both talking at once, pointing to his breast, to my hand, to my yellow hair. The girl laughed, drew the little woman to her and covered her lips with a hand. The little man went on trilling and twittering.
Jim had been listening with a puzzled intensity76 whenever the girl had done the talking. He caught my arm.
“It’s Cherokee they’re speaking! Or something like it — Listen . . . there was a word . . . it sounded like ‘Yun’-wini’giski’ . . . it means ‘Man-eaters’. Literally77, ‘They eat people’ . . . if that’s what it was . . . and look . . . he’s showing how the vines crawled down the cliffs . . . .”
The girl began speaking again. I listened intently. The rapid enunciation78 and the trilling made understanding difficult, but I caught sounds that seemed familiar — and now I heard a combination that I certainly knew.
“It’s some kind of Mongolian tongue, Jim. I got a word just then that means ‘serpent-water’ in a dozen different dialects.”
“I know — she called the snake ‘aha’nada’ and the Cherokees say ‘inadu’— but it’s Indian, not Mongolian.”
“It might be both. The Indian dialects are Mongolian. Maybe it’s the ancient mother-tongue. If we could only get her to speak slower, and tune79 down on the trills.”
“It might be that. The Cherokees called themselves ‘the oldest people’ and their language ‘the first speech’— wait —”
He stepped forward, hand upraised; he spoke80 the word which in the Cherokee means, equally, friend or one who comes with good intentions. He said it several times. Wonder and comprehension crept into the girl’s eyes. She repeated it as he had spoken it, then turned to the pygmies, passing the word on to them — and I could distinguish it now plainly within the trills and pipings. The pygmies came closer, staring up at Jim.
He said, slowly: “We come from outside. We know nothing of this place. We know none within it.”
Several times he had to repeat this before she caught it. She looked gravely at him, and at me doubtfully — yet as one who would like to believe. She answered haltingly.
“But Sri”— she pointed to the little man —“has said that in the water he spoke the tongue of evil.”
“He speaks many tongues,” said Jim — then to me:
“Talk to her. Don’t stand there like a dummy81, admiring her. This girl can think — and we’re in a jam. Your looks make no hit with the dwarfs82, Leif, in spite of what you did.”
“Is it any stranger that I should have spoken that tongue than that I now speak yours, Evalie?” I said. And asked the same question in two of the oldest dialects of the Mongolian that I knew. She studied me, thoughtfully.
“No,” she said at last —“no; for I, too, know something of it, yet that does not make me evil.”
And suddenly she smiled, and trilled some command to the guards. They lowered their spears, regarding me with something of the friendly interest they had showed toward Jim. Within the tower, the drums began to roll a cheerful tattoo83. As at a signal, the other unseen drums which the shrill alarm had silenced, resumed their lilting rhythm.
The girl beckoned us. We walked behind her, the little soldiers ringing us, between a portcullis of thorn and the tower.
We passed over the threshold of the Land of the Little People and of Evalie.
收听单词发音 |
1
den
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| n.兽穴；秘密地方；安静的小房间，私室 | |
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hissed
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| 发嘶嘶声( hiss的过去式和过去分词 )； 发嘘声表示反对 | |
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hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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syllables
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| n.音节( syllable的名词复数 ) | |
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darted
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| v.投掷，投射( dart的过去式和过去分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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weird
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| adj.古怪的，离奇的；怪诞的，神秘而可怕的 | |
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scent
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| n.气味，香味，香水，线索，嗅觉；v.嗅，发觉 | |
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racing
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| n.竞赛，赛马；adj.竞赛用的，赛马用的 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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frantically
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| ad.发狂地, 发疯地 | |
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crevice
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| n.(岩石、墙等)裂缝；缺口 | |
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strap
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| n.皮带，带子；v.用带扣住，束牢；用绷带包扎 | |
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slung
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| 抛( sling的过去式和过去分词 )； 吊挂； 遣送； 押往 | |
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thighs
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| n.股，大腿( thigh的名词复数 )；食用的鸡（等的）腿 | |
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pungent
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| adj.（气味、味道）刺激性的，辛辣的；尖锐的 | |
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milky
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| adj.牛奶的，多奶的；乳白色的 | |
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crested
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| adj.有顶饰的，有纹章的，有冠毛的v.到达山顶（或浪峰）( crest的过去式和过去分词 )；到达洪峰，达到顶点 | |
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spines
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| n.脊柱( spine的名词复数 )；脊椎；（动植物的）刺；书脊 | |
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swirled
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| v.旋转，打旋( swirl的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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plunging
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| adj.跳进的，突进的v.颠簸( plunge的现在分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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eel
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| n.鳗鲡 | |
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emulate
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| v.努力赶上或超越，与…竞争；效仿 | |
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molest
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| vt.骚扰，干扰，调戏 | |
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curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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shrill
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| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
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shriek
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| v./n.尖叫，叫喊 | |
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buffeting
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| 振动 | |
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falcon
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| n.隼，猎鹰 | |
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hovering
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| 鸟( hover的现在分词 )； 靠近（某事物）； （人）徘徊； 犹豫 | |
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pinions
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| v.抓住[捆住]（双臂）( pinion的第三人称单数 ) | |
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vibrant
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| adj.震颤的，响亮的，充满活力的，精力充沛的，(色彩)鲜明的 | |
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archaic
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| adj.(语言、词汇等)古代的，已不通用的 | |
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mare
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| n.母马，母驴 | |
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sapphire
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| n.青玉，蓝宝石；adj.天蓝色的 | |
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resentment
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| n.怨愤，忿恨 | |
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scorpions
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| n.蝎子( scorpion的名词复数 ) | |
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insolence
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| n.傲慢；无礼；厚颜；傲慢的态度 | |
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stark
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| adj.荒凉的；严酷的；完全的；adv.完全地 | |
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amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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snarling
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| v.（指狗）吠，嗥叫， （人）咆哮( snarl的现在分词 )；咆哮着说，厉声地说 | |
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hoofs
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| n.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的名词复数 )v.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的第三人称单数 ) | |
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inexplicable
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| adj.无法解释的，难理解的 | |
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43
wriggle
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| v./n.蠕动，扭动；蜿蜒 | |
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44
trotted
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| 小跑，急走( trot的过去分词 )； 匆匆忙忙地走 | |
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45
steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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heartily
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| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
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philosophically
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| adv.哲学上；富有哲理性地；贤明地；冷静地 | |
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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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49
cadences
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| n.（声音的）抑扬顿挫( cadence的名词复数 )；节奏；韵律；调子 | |
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meandering
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| 蜿蜒的河流，漫步，聊天 | |
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51
tangle
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| n.纠缠；缠结；混乱；v.(使)缠绕；变乱 | |
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52
penetrate
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| v.透(渗)入；刺入，刺穿；洞察，了解 | |
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53
squat
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| v.蹲坐，蹲下；n.蹲下；adj.矮胖的，粗矮的 | |
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54
chattered
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| （人）喋喋不休( chatter的过去式 )； 唠叨； （牙齿）打战； （机器）震颤 | |
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55
chatter
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| vi.／n.喋喋不休；短促尖叫；(牙齿)打战 | |
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56
thicket
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| n.灌木丛，树林 | |
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reassuringly
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| ad.安心，可靠 | |
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caressing
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| 爱抚的，表现爱情的，亲切的 | |
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beckoned
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| v.（用头或手的动作）示意，召唤( beckon的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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frailty
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| n.脆弱；意志薄弱 | |
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gnomes
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| n.矮子( gnome的名词复数 )；侏儒；（尤指金融市场上搞投机的）银行家；守护神 | |
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tempt
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| vt.引诱，勾引，吸引，引起…的兴趣 | |
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willow
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| n.柳树 | |
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bough
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| n.大树枝，主枝 | |
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sylvan
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| adj.森林的 | |
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covert
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| adj.隐藏的；暗地里的 | |
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glade
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| n.林间空地，一片表面有草的沼泽低地 | |
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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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brook
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| n.小河，溪；v.忍受，容让 | |
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amber
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| n.琥珀；琥珀色；adj.琥珀制的 | |
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transparent
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| adj.明显的，无疑的；透明的 | |
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hips
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| abbr.high impact polystyrene 高冲击强度聚苯乙烯，耐冲性聚苯乙烯n.臀部( hip的名词复数 )；[建筑学]屋脊；臀围（尺寸）；臀部…的 | |
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virgin
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| n.处女，未婚女子；adj.未经使用的；未经开发的 | |
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caresses
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| 爱抚，抚摸( caress的名词复数 ) | |
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brooks
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| n.小溪( brook的名词复数 ) | |
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intensity
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| n.强烈，剧烈；强度；烈度 | |
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literally
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| adv.照字面意义，逐字地；确实 | |
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enunciation
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| n.清晰的发音；表明，宣言；口齿 | |
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tune
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| n.调子；和谐，协调；v.调音，调节，调整 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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dummy
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| n.假的东西；(哄婴儿的)橡皮奶头 | |
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dwarfs
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| n.侏儒，矮子（dwarf的复数形式）vt.（使）显得矮小（dwarf的第三人称单数形式） | |
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tattoo
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| n.纹身，(皮肤上的)刺花纹；vt.刺花纹于 | |
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