The manuscript was without date or preface, and its contents interested as well as surprised us not a little. It began at once as follows:—
“Whoever receives this packet and letter from my daughter receives a sacred trust which he dare not shake off, and which I solemnly charge him in the sight of God to take up and fulfil. At the moment while I write I am well and strong, and not old. It is my firm intention, if God spares me, to pursue the course which is herein detailed1, but I know too well the risk and dangers of the wilderness2 to feel assured that I shall live to act out my part. I therefore write down here, as briefly3 as I can, my story and my wishes, and shall give the letter with my miniature to my darling Waboose—whose Christian4 name is Eve, though she knows it not—with directions not to open it, or let it out of her hands, until she meets with a white man whom she can trust, for well assured am I that the man whom my innocent and wise-hearted Eve can trust—be he old or young—will be a man who cannot and will not refuse the responsibility laid on him. Why I prefer to leave this packet with my daughter, instead of my dear wife, is a matter with which strangers have nothing to do.
“I begin by saying that I have been a great sinner, but thank God, I have found Jesus a great Saviour5. Let this suffice. I was never given to open up my mind much, and I won’t begin now—at least, not more than I can help. It is right to say, at the outset, that I have been regularly married by a travelling Wesleyan minister to my dear wife, by whom also Eve and her mother were baptized.
“My fall began in disobedience to my mother. Probably this is the case with most ne’er-do-wells. My name is William Liston. My father was a farmer in a wild part of Colorado. He died when I was a little boy, leaving my beloved mother to carry on the farm. I am their only child. My mother loved and served the Lord Christ. And well do I know that my salvation6 from an ungovernable temper and persistent7 self-will is the direct answer to her unceasing prayers.
“I left home, against her will, with a party of backwoodsmen, my heart being set on what I once thought would be the free and jolly life of a hunter in the great American wilderness. I have lived to find the truth of that proverb, ‘All is not gold that glitters,’ and of that word, ‘There is no rest, saith my God, to the wicked.’
“I was eighteen when I left home. Since then I have been a homeless wanderer—unless a shifting tent may be considered home! Long after my quitting home, and while staying with a tribe of Indians at the head waters of the Saskatchewan river, I met an Indian girl, whose gentle, loving nature, and pretty face, were so attractive to me that I married her and joined her tribe. The marriage ceremony was, as I have said, confirmed by a Wesleyan minister, whose faithful words made such an impression on me that I resolved to give up my wild life, and return with my wife and child to my old home. My character, however—which is extremely resolute8 and decided9 when following the bent10 of my inclinations11, and exceedingly weak and vacillating when running counter to the same—interfered with my good intentions. The removal of the tribe to a more distant part of the land also tended to delay me, and a still more potent12 hindrance13 lay in the objection of my wife—who has been faithful and true to me throughout; God bless her! She could not for a long time, see her way to forsake14 her people.
“Ever since my meeting with the Wesleyan, my mind has been running more or less on the subject of religion, and I have tried to explain it as far as I could to my wife and child, but have found myself woefully ignorant as well as sinful. At last, not long ago, I procured16 a New Testament17 from a trapper, and God in mercy opened my eyes to see and my heart to receive the truth as it is in Jesus. Since then I have had less difficulty in speaking to my wife and child, and have been attempting to teach the latter to read English. The former, whose mother and father died lately, has now no objection to go with me to the land of the pale-faces, and it is my present intention to go to my old home on the return of spring. I have not heard of my poor mother since I left her, though at various times I have written to her. It may be that she is dead. I hope not—I even think not, for she was very young when she married my father, and her constitution was strong. But her hair was beginning to silver even before I forsook18 her—with sorrow, I fear, on my account. Oh! mother! mother! How unavailing is my bitter regret! What would I not give to kneel once more at your feet and confess my sin! This may perhaps be permitted—but come weal, come woe15, blessed be God we shall meet again.
“If my prayer is granted, this paper will never be seen by human eyes. If God sees fit to deny me this, and I should die in the wilderness, then I charge the man to whom my packet is given, to take my wife and daughter to Colorado; and if my mother—Mrs William Liston, of Sunny Creek—be still alive, to present them to her with this written paper and miniature. If, on the other hand, she be dead, then let him buy for them an annuity19, or otherwise invest four thousand pounds for their benefit, according to the best of his judgment20. How to come by the four thousand pounds I will now explain.
“Away in the beautiful and sequestered21 valley at the head of Lake Wichikagan there stands a stunted22 pine, near a rock fallen from the cliff above. The spot is not easily found, but my Eve knows it well. It was a favourite resort of ours when we went picnicking together. There is a small hole or dry cave in the cliff just behind the fallen rock. Two feet underneath23 the soil there will be found a bag containing a set of diamonds worth the sum I have named, with a smaller bag containing five hundred pounds in gold. It may not be amiss to say that both jewels and money have been honestly come by. The money I dug out of the Californian mines, and bought the jewels in a drunken frolic when in Canada—‘for my future wife,’ as I then boasted. My dear wife has never seen them, nor has Eve. They do not know of their existence. The five hundred pounds in gold is to be retained for himself by the man who accepts this trust to enable him to pay his way and carry it out.
“William Liston.”
It is difficult to express the conflict of feelings that assailed24 me when I had finished reading this remarkable25 manuscript. For some time Lumley and I gazed at each other in silence.
“You accept the trust, I suppose?” said my friend at last.
“Of course. How could I do otherwise?”
“But you cannot remain in the service of the Hudson’s Bay Company if you do. They would never give you leave of absence for such a purpose.”
“No matter. I will not ask leave of absence. I will resign. My time was up, you know, this year. I will write to the governor by the spring-brigade, and start away for Colorado in summer.”
“But this poor man may have been slightly deranged26,” suggested Lumley. “He says that at one time he led a wild life. It is possible that his brain may have been affected27, and he only dreams of these jewels and the gold.”
“I think not,” said I, decidedly; “the letter is so calm and simple in style that the idea is absurd; besides, we can soon test it by visiting the valley and the spot referred to. Moreover, even if there were no money, and the poor man were really deranged, he could never have imagined or invented all that about his mother and Colorado if it were not true. Even if we fail to find the jewels and cash I will accept the trust and fulfil it.”
“What! without money?”
“Ay, without money,” said I firmly, though I am bound to confess that I did not at the moment see clearly how the thing was in that case to be done. But I was—and, indeed, still am—of an ardent28 disposition29, and felt sanguine30 that I should manage to fulfil the obligations of this remarkable trust somehow.
“Well, Max, you and I will visit this valley to-morrow,” said Lumley, rising; “meanwhile we will go to bed.”
Accordingly, next morning, after breakfast Lumley and I slung31 our snow-shoes over our shoulders on the barrels of our guns,—for the lake was as hard as a sheet of white marble,—and started off to pay a visit to the spot indicated in what I may style poor Liston’s will.
It was a bright bracing32 day—quite calm, but with keen frost, which tended to increase the feelings of excitement already roused by the object we had in view. As we passed through the lake’s fringe of willows33, the tops of which just rose a foot or two above the drifted snow, a great covey of ptarmigan rose with a mighty34 whirr, and swept along the shore; but we took no heed35 of these—our minds being bent on other game!
The distance to the upper end of the lake was considerable, and the day was far advanced when we reached it. As we took to the land the covey of ptarmigan, which had preceded us to the place, again rose. This time, however, we were prepared for them. Lumley shot a brace36 right and left, taking the two last that rose with sportsman-like precision. I confess that I am not a particularly good shot—never was—and have not much of the sportsman’s pride about me. I fired straight into the centre of the dense37 mass of birds, six of which immediately fell upon the snow.
“What a lot of flukes!” exclaimed my companion, with a laugh, as he recharged.
“Luck before precision, any day!” said I, following his example.
“Ay, Max, but there is this difference, that luck is rather uncertain, whereas precision is always sure.”
“Well, be that as it may,” said I putting on my snow-shoes, for the snow in the wood we were about to enter was deep and soft, “we have enough for a good supper at all events.”
“True, and we shall need a good supper, for we must camp out. There is no chance of our finding this treasure—even if it exists—until we have had a good search, and then it will be too late to return home with comfort, or even safety, for it is difficult on a dark night to distinguish tracks on the hard snow of a lake, as I’ve sometimes found to my cost.”
We set up several other coveys of ptarmigan as we traversed the belt of willows lying between the lake and the woods, and when we entered the latter, several grouse38, of a species that takes to trees, fluttered away from us; but we did not molest39 them, having already more than we could consume swinging at our belts.
We went straight up the valley to what we deemed the most sequestered part of it, and then paused.
“This looks somewhat like the spot, doesn’t it?” said Lumley, glancing round. “Yonder is a cliff with rocks at the base of it.”
“Yes, but too many rocks,” said I; “the paper mentions only one; besides, it refers to a stunted pine, and I see nothing of that sort here.”
“True, it must be higher up the valley. Come along.”
On we plodded40, hour after hour, halting often, and examining with care many a secluded41 spot that seemed to answer more or less the description of the spot for which we searched, but all in vain. Sunset found us as far from our object as ever, and as hungry as hawks42. Darkness of course put an end to the search, and, with a feeling of disappointment and weariness that I had not experienced since arriving in that region, I set to work to fell and cut up a tree for fire wood, while Lumley shovelled43 a hole in the snow at the foot of a pine, and otherwise prepared our encampment.
But youth is remarkably44 elastic45 in spirit! No sooner was the fire crackling, the kettle singing, and the delicious odour of roasted ptarmigan tickling46 our nostrils47, than disappointment gave way to hope and weariness to jollity.
“Come, we shall have at it again to-morrow,” said Lumley.
“So we shall,” said I—“mind that kettle. You have an unfortunate capacity for kicking things over.”
“One of the disadvantages of long legs, Max. They’re always in the way. Get out the biscuit now. My ptarmigan is ready. At least, if it isn’t, I can’t wait.”
“Neither can I, Jack48. I sometimes wish that it were natural to us to eat things raw. It would be so very convenient and save sh–—a—lot—of—time.”
That night we lay in our snow camp, gazing up at the stars, with our feet to the fire, talking of gold and diamonds with all the eagerness of veritable misers—though it is but justice to myself to add that Eve’s blue eyes outshone, in my imagination, all the diamonds that ever decked the brow of Wealth or Beauty! When at last we slept, our dreams partook of the same glittering ideas—coupled, of course, with much of the monstrous50 absurdity51 to which dreams are liable. I had just discovered a gem52 which was so large that I experienced the utmost difficulty in thrusting it into my coat-pocket, and was busy shovelling53 small diamonds of the purest water into a wheelbarrow, when a tremendous whack54 on my nose awoke me.
Starting up with an indignant gasp55 I found that it was a lump of snow, which had been detached by the heat of our fire from a branch overhead.
“What’s wrong, Max?” growled56 my companion, who lay curled up in his buffalo57 robe, like a huge Newfoundland dog. “Bin dreamin’?”
“Yes,” said I, with a loud yawn, “I was dreaming of shovelling up diamonds by the thousand when a lump of snow fell and hit my nose!”
“Str’nge,” sighed Lumley, in the sleepiest voice I ever heard, “so’s I—dr’m’n ’f g’ld’n sass–gs an’ dm’nd rupple-ply.”
“What nonsense are you talking, man? What were you dreaming of?”
“’F gold’n saus’ges an’ dim’nd rolly-p’ly. I say—’s fire out?”
“Nearly.”
“’S very cold. G’t up—mend it, l’ke good f’llow. I’ll help you, d’rectly.”
He finished off with a prolonged snore, so I rose with a slight laugh, mended the fire, warmed myself well, observed in a sleepy way that the night was still bright and calm, and then lay down in a state of semi-consciousness to drop at once into a nest made of golden filigree58 filled with diamond eggs!
Next morning we rose at daybreak, relighted the fire and had breakfast, after which we resumed our search, but still—without success.
“I fear that my surmise59 as to the state of poor Liston’s mind is correct,” said Lumley. “We have searched the whole valley, I believe.”
“Nay, not quite,” I returned, “it is much varied60 in form, and full of out-o’-the-way nooks. Besides, we have not yet discovered the stunted pine, and you know the paper says the spot is difficult to find. As to Liston’s mind I feel quite sure that it was all right, and that the man was a good and true one. The father of Waboose could not have been otherwise.”
I said this somewhat decidedly, for I felt sorely disappointed at our failure, and slightly annoyed at my friend’s unbelief in one whose last writing proved him—at least to my mind—to be genuine and sincere.
“Well, Max,” returned Lumley, with his wonted pleasant look and tone, “it may be that you are right. We will continue our search as long as there seems any chance of success.”
Accordingly, we ranged the valley round, high and low, until we had visited, as we thought, every nook and cranny in it and then, much dispirited, returned home.
One morning, about three months after these events, Lumley came into my bedroom where I was drawing a plan for a new store.
“Max,” said he, sitting down on the bed beside me, “I mean to start this afternoon on a visit to the mountain fort. You know I promised Macnab that I would look him up about this time and fetch Waboose and her mother back.”
“Indeed. When do you start!”
“This afternoon.”
I was not surprised at the suddenness of this announcement. Our chief was eminently61 a man of action. He seldom talked much about plans, but thought them well out, and when his mind was made up acted without delay.
“You’ll take my letter to the governor and tell Mac to forward it with his spring packet?” said I.
“Yes, that is just what I came to see you about. Is it ready—and are you quite decided about retiring?”
“Quite decided. See, here is the letter. And don’t forget your promise to say nothing to Waboose or anyone else about Liston’s packet.”
“Not a word, my boy.”
That afternoon my friend set off on snow-shoes accompanied by two men.
“Any message, Max?” he said, at parting.
“Of course. My kind regards to everybody.”
“Nothing warmer to anybody?”
“Oh, yes,” I returned quickly, “I forgot you may, if you choose, say something a little more affectionate to Miss Macnab!”
“I will, Max, I will,” he replied, with a loud ringing laugh and a cheery good-bye.
Some time after that an Indian came to the fort bearing a letter from Lumley. It was written, he said, merely because the Indian chanced to be travelling towards Wichikagan, and contained nothing of importance. To my surprise and disappointment it contained no reference whatever to Waboose. On turning over the last page, however, I found a postscript62. It ran thus:
“P.S.—By the way, I had almost omitted to mention Eve. My dear boy, I believe you are right. She is one of Nature’s ladies. Jessie has prevailed on her to put on one of her dresses and be her companion, and when they are walking together with their backs towards me, upon my word I have difficulty in deciding which is the more ladylike of the two! And that you will admit, is no small compliment from me. Jessie has been giving her lessons in English, and music and drawing too. Just think of that! She says she is doing it with an end in view. I wonder what that end can be! Jessie is sometimes difficult to understand. She is also remarkably wise and far-sighted. I expect to be home soon—farewell.”
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
detailed
|
|
| adj.详细的，详尽的，极注意细节的，完全的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
wilderness
|
|
| n.杳无人烟的一片陆地、水等，荒漠 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
briefly
|
|
| adv.简单地，简短地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
Christian
|
|
| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
saviour
|
|
| n.拯救者，救星 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
salvation
|
|
| n.（尤指基督）救世，超度，拯救，解困 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
persistent
|
|
| adj.坚持不懈的，执意的；持续的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
resolute
|
|
| adj.坚决的，果敢的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
decided
|
|
| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
bent
|
|
| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
inclinations
|
|
| 倾向( inclination的名词复数 )； 倾斜； 爱好； 斜坡 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
potent
|
|
| adj.强有力的，有权势的；有效力的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
hindrance
|
|
| n.妨碍，障碍 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
forsake
|
|
| vt.遗弃，抛弃；舍弃，放弃 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
woe
|
|
| n.悲哀，苦痛，不幸，困难；int.用来表达悲伤或惊慌 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
procured
|
|
| v.（努力）取得， （设法）获得( procure的过去式和过去分词 )；拉皮条 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
testament
|
|
| n.遗嘱；证明 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
forsook
|
|
| forsake的过去式 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
annuity
|
|
| n.年金；养老金 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
judgment
|
|
| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
sequestered
|
|
| adj.扣押的；隐退的；幽静的；偏僻的v.使隔绝，使隔离( sequester的过去式和过去分词 )；扣押 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
stunted
|
|
| adj.矮小的；发育迟缓的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
underneath
|
|
| adj.在...下面，在...底下；adv.在下面 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
assailed
|
|
| v.攻击( assail的过去式和过去分词 )；困扰；质问；毅然应对 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
remarkable
|
|
| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
deranged
|
|
| adj.疯狂的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
affected
|
|
| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
ardent
|
|
| adj.热情的，热烈的，强烈的，烈性的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
disposition
|
|
| n.性情，性格；意向，倾向；排列，部署 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
sanguine
|
|
| adj.充满希望的，乐观的，血红色的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
slung
|
|
| 抛( sling的过去式和过去分词 )； 吊挂； 遣送； 押往 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
bracing
|
|
| adj.令人振奋的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
willows
|
|
| n.柳树( willow的名词复数 )；柳木 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
mighty
|
|
| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
heed
|
|
| v.注意，留意；n.注意，留心 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
brace
|
|
| n. 支柱,曲柄,大括号; v. 绷紧,顶住,(为困难或坏事)做准备 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
dense
|
|
| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
grouse
|
|
| n.松鸡；v.牢骚，诉苦 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
molest
|
|
| vt.骚扰，干扰，调戏 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
plodded
|
|
| 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） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
secluded
|
|
| adj.与世隔绝的；隐退的；偏僻的v.使隔开，使隐退( seclude的过去式和过去分词) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
hawks
|
|
| 鹰( hawk的名词复数 )； 鹰派人物，主战派人物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
shovelled
|
|
| v.铲子( shovel的过去式和过去分词 )；锹；推土机、挖土机等的)铲；铲形部份 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
remarkably
|
|
| ad.不同寻常地，相当地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
elastic
|
|
| n.橡皮圈，松紧带；adj.有弹性的；灵活的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
tickling
|
|
| 反馈，回授，自旋挠痒法 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
nostrils
|
|
| 鼻孔( nostril的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
jack
|
|
| n.插座，千斤顶，男人；v.抬起，提醒，扛举；n.（Jake）杰克 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
utterance
|
|
| n.用言语表达，话语，言语 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
monstrous
|
|
| adj.巨大的；恐怖的；可耻的，丢脸的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
absurdity
|
|
| n.荒谬，愚蠢；谬论 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
gem
|
|
| n.宝石，珠宝；受爱戴的人 [同]jewel | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
shovelling
|
|
| v.铲子( shovel的现在分词 )；锹；推土机、挖土机等的)铲；铲形部份 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
whack
|
|
| v.敲击，重打，瓜分；n.重击，重打，尝试，一份 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
gasp
|
|
| n.喘息，气喘；v.喘息；气吁吁他说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
growled
|
|
| 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 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
buffalo
|
|
| n.(北美)野牛；(亚洲)水牛 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
filigree
|
|
| n.金银丝做的工艺品；v.用金银细丝饰品装饰；用华而不实的饰品装饰；adj.金银细丝工艺的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
surmise
|
|
| v./n.猜想，推测 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
varied
|
|
| adj.多样的，多变化的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
eminently
|
|
| adv.突出地；显著地；不寻常地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
postscript
|
|
| n.附言，又及；(正文后的)补充说明 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |