The end of the day, however, brought an unlooked-for event, which made an end of these half-formed plans. He had camped for the night, and having fed his dogs with the dried salmon12-roe13 which formed their staple14 food, was preparing his own meal, when one of the animals gave a sudden sharp howl of pain. He looked hastily round, and saw the dog twisted in some kind of spasm15, its backbone16 arched, its legs jerking in a strange fashion. He went to it, and as he approached the spasm ended, and the dog lay in the snow completely exhausted17. He was stooping over it, wondering what was the matter when the other two dogs howled simultaneously18, and he turned swiftly to see one of them leap straight in the air, and in a moment both of them were in spasms19 similar to the one he had already witnessed, and before his eyes one of them curled up like a bow, then suddenly relaxed, and lay stark20 and dead.
A dark suspicion shot through his mind, as he jerked himself upright. The first dog was plainly at the point of death, whilst the third was twisted by spasms that could have but one ending. He knew that there could be no recovery, that he could do nothing for them, and in a swift impulse of mercy he drew his pistol and shot them. Then he strode[108] to the sled, and lifting the small bale of dog food carried it to the fire, and by the flames of the burning pine examined it carefully. He had not to look long before he came upon some small white crystals in the creases22 of the roe. They might be snow, they might be frost crystals, but he did not think that they were either, and selecting one of the smallest of the white specks23 he placed it on his tongue. It was exceedingly bitter in taste.
“Strychnine!” he cried aloud, and then stood looking at the dead dogs with horror shining in his eyes. As he stood there one question was beating in his brain. “Who has done this thing? Who? Who?”
His thoughts flew back to his cousin. Had he—No! He could not believe that; for whoever had placed the strychnine in the dog food, had callously24 planned to murder him. And bad as Dick Bracknell was, the corporal felt that his cousin would not have done a thing like this.
“There’s that Indian—Joe,” he said, speaking his thoughts aloud. “From what Dick said he was afraid of me ... and he would have disposed of me at the beginning if he had had his way!” He was silent for a little time, then he nodded his head. “Yes! The Indian did it without Dick’s knowledge.”
For the moment he refused to think further about the matter. About him was the gloom of the pines, with their pall25 of snow, and everywhere the terrible silence of the North. Alone and without dogs to carry his stores, the situation was altogether desperate; and to reflect upon it overmuch[109] was to court madness. So he put the thought of it from him for the time being, and after dragging the dead dogs into the shadow of the forest, resumed the preparation of his evening meal. When he had eaten it, he erected26 a wind-screen, and lying in his sleeping bag, with his feet to the fire, lighted a pipe, and once more considered the problem before him.
It was at least four days’ journey to North Star Lodge, probably five or six, since he would have to carry the necessaries of life himself, and so burdened would not be able to travel fast. There was food for four days on the sled, and to make sure of reaching North Star, he would have to put himself on rations, and travel as fast as he could. Barring accidents there was an even chance of his getting through, but if any ill-chance arose then—He did not finish the thought. Knocking the ashes out of his pipe, he stretched himself down in the sleeping berth27, and presently fell asleep.
When he awoke it was still dark, and the fire was burning low. He looked at his watch. It was five o’clock. He stretched himself a little, and thrusting his arm out of the sleeping bag, he threw a couple of spruce boughs28 on the fire. The resinous30 wood quickly caught, and as it flared31 up he looked round. On the edge of the circle of light, which his fire cut out of the darkness, something caught his eye. He looked again. Two tiny globes of light, about three feet above the ground, appeared to be suspended on nothing. He watched them steadily, and for the briefest moment of time, saw them eclipsed, then they reappeared. He looked further. There were other twin globes of light,[110] scattered32 all round, and, as the spruce crackled into flame, he caught sight of an animal’s head, and the outline of its form.
“Timber-wolves!” he whispered to himself.
Feeling for his automatic pistol, he lay waiting his opportunity. Undoubtedly33, the bodies of his dead dogs had already served the savage34 beasts for a meal, and now they were watching him, perhaps already counting him their prey35.
He did not feel particularly afraid. He knew that the wolf is really a coward, and that unless driven by hunger, it seldom attacks man, but all the same he thought it wise to teach the beast a lesson. So when the shadowy form of one of the beasts moved, he sighted and fired. The wolf gave a yelp36, jumped clean in the air, and dropped dead well within the circle of firelight. He looked round again. The watching eyes in the darkness had disappeared. Presently however they returned, and lying perfectly37 still, he saw a gaunt dog wolf slink out of the shadows towards its dead comrade, and fall on it with its teeth. Another followed and another, and a moment later there was a snarling38 tangle39 of furry40 beasts where the dead wolf had been.
“Phew!” he whistled to himself, as he noted41 their disregard of the firelight, “they’re mad with hunger!”
He emptied his pistol into the bunch, and the pack fell back, leaving three of its number dead in the snow. Of the first wolf nothing remained but the skull42 and tail. Behind the trees the snarling and yelping43 continued, and as he crept out of his[111] sleeping bag, he conjectured44 that others of the beasts had been injured by his shots, and were falling a prey to their hungry companions. There was a serious look upon his face, as, crossing to the other side of the fire, he picked up the dead wolves, and one by one flung them into the darkness, where as his ears assured him they also became food for their famished45 pack-mates.
He had meant to commence his journey at an early hour, but the presence of the wolf-pack forced him to reconsider his plans, and to delay until dawn. The interval46 he filled in by packing his stores in a convenient form for carrying, and with the aid of things from the sled and his sleeping bag he devised a knapsack, which whilst it bulked large was not really heavy. Then he breakfasted, and that done, as the dawn broke, looked round once more. On one side of him the wolves were still in the shadows of the trees, and as he turned to look on the other, his eye caught the package of poisoned salmon roe, which was still upon the sledge47. A thought struck him.
“The very thing!” he muttered, and going to the sled, he broke up the food with an ax and then scattered it in small portions about the camping place.
“I shall bag some of them for certain,” he said, as he saw the wolves watching him. “When they find it they’ll bolt it like one o’clock.”
The day had well broken when, adjusting his snowshoes, he shouldered his pack, and stepped out on the trail. None of the wolves were now in sight, but he had gone only a little way, when a sharp howl behind him, told him that they were still[112] about. He looked back. A little spur of trees on the bank hid his late camp, but as he glanced back, a wolf leaped on the ice, ran howling a short way, then dropped in the snow. Other yelps48 of pain came from behind the screen of trees, and as the sounds reached him a sigh of satisfaction came in his eyes.
“It’s working like a charm,” he said to himself. “There’s an end of Mr. Wolf for this trip, I fancy.”
As he journed he kept a sharp look out, turning frequently to observe the trail behind him. Not a single wolf appeared, and through the short day he marched on, the solitary49 living thing in a landscape that was unutterably forlorn and desolate50. The quick night drew on, and he decided51 to camp. Halting in a sheltered cove21 he felled a small spruce, gathered some dry twigs52 and built himself a fire, then he thrust his hand to his tunic53 pocket for matches. They were gone. He had lost them. For a minute or two he was filled with dismay, and real terror clutched at his heart-strings, for to be without means of making a fire in the desolate Northland, is to have entered the valley of the shadow of death.
Then he recalled an old device of the Voyageurs, and proceeded to put it into execution. With his jack54 knife he cut some thin shavings of spruce, mixed them with a handful of dead lichen55 scraped from trees, and biting the bullets from a couple of cartridges57 shook the powder of one over the little heap that he had made, and with that from the other cartridge56 made a short train. Then he fired his pistol to light the train. The powder caught,[113] spluttered and burned out without lighting58 the lichen and the pine-shavings, and the operation had to be performed three times before it was successful. He built up his fire, and when it was well going, and he was congratulating himself on his success a thought struck him. Hastily he examined his bandolier. He had but three cartridges left.
As he weighed the metal shells in his hand, his face grew very serious. Each of them carried a message of death, but to him, as his sole means of making a fire, they were to him the bridge of life, and a precarious59 bridge at that. With at least three camps to make before he reached North Star Lodge, he recognized that the chances were almost desperate, and that only care and skill and a large slice of luck could carry him through. Very carefully he stowed the cartridges where they would be safe against damp or accidental loss, and then proceeded to cook his meal.
The next morning he started an hour before dawn. Light snow was falling, but he could not afford to regard that, and on snowshoes he pressed forward steadily. It began to blow, and he sought the lee of the river-bank for shelter, then that happened which put a term to his journey. A great tree, well up the bank, collapsed60 under its weight of snow. Roger Bracknell caught the rending62 sound of its fall and instinctively63 leaped aside, but the snowshoes embarrassed him and he fell. A bough29 of the falling tree alighted on his right leg, snapping it like a pipestem, and pinning him down in the snow.
Under the first shock of pain, he almost fainted,[114] but in a minute or two recovered himself sufficiently64 to take stock of the situation. It was, as he instantly recognized, very desperate. He sat up, and tried to move the weight from his leg. The bough which held him fast was not a very thick one, but the weight of the tree was behind it, and with his hatchet65 he began to cut through the branch. Every stroke he made jarred him terribly, and more than once he had to desist, but at last the bough parted, and he was able to push the weight from his leg. He was, however, in little better case, since he could not stand upright; and to crawl would have been futile66, even if the deepening snow had allowed the possibility of doing so.
He looked round, and through the falling snow caught sight of the sombre pinewoods. They had a funereal67 look, and in their shadows brooded the menace of the North, which had surely overtaken him at last. Death was staring him in the eyes. He took out his pocket book, and made shift to write a note to his superior down at the Post. Then he took out his pistol, and loaded it with one of the cartridges that had held his life, but which now carried only death, swift and merciful. It was no use waiting. He held the pistol ready, and for a moment his thoughts strayed to Joy Gargrave. Would she ever hear? Would she guess that he—
His thoughts broke off suddenly. Through the gloom of the falling snow he caught a sound of voices. Some one, it seemed, was urging a dog-team to greater efforts. Was he dreaming? He listened carefully. No! There it was again, and[115] with it came the yelp of a dog cut by a whip. A great wave of thankfulness rolled over him. He shouted and fired his pistol in the air. A moment later came an answering shout, and he called back again. Presently, out of the snow-murk emerged the forms of two men—Indians, and as they bent68 over him he lapsed61 into unconsciousness.
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1
tolerance
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| n.宽容；容忍，忍受；耐药力；公差 | |
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inevitable
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| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
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depleted
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| adj. 枯竭的, 废弃的 动词deplete的过去式和过去分词 | |
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rations
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| 定量( ration的名词复数 )； 配给量； 正常量； 合理的量 | |
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lodge
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| v.临时住宿，寄宿，寄存，容纳；n.传达室，小旅馆 | |
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rankled
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| v.（使）痛苦不已，（使）怨恨不已( rankle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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7
steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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contemplate
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| vt.盘算，计议；周密考虑；注视，凝视 | |
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incarceration
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| n.监禁，禁闭；钳闭 | |
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penal
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| adj.刑罚的；刑法上的 | |
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stony
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| adj.石头的，多石头的，冷酷的，无情的 | |
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salmon
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| n.鲑，大马哈鱼，橙红色的 | |
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roe
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| n.鱼卵；獐鹿 | |
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staple
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| n.主要产物，常用品，主要要素，原料，订书钉，钩环；adj.主要的，重要的；vt.分类 | |
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15
spasm
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| n.痉挛，抽搐；一阵发作 | |
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backbone
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| n.脊骨，脊柱，骨干；刚毅，骨气 | |
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exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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simultaneously
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| adv.同时发生地，同时进行地 | |
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spasms
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| n.痉挛( spasm的名词复数 )；抽搐；（能量、行为等的）突发；发作 | |
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20
stark
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| adj.荒凉的；严酷的；完全的；adv.完全地 | |
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cove
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| n.小海湾，小峡谷 | |
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22
creases
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| （使…）起折痕，弄皱( crease的第三人称单数 )； （皮肤）皱起，使起皱纹 | |
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23
specks
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| n.眼镜；斑点，微粒，污点( speck的名词复数 ) | |
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24
callously
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pall
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| v.覆盖，使平淡无味；n.柩衣，棺罩；棺材；帷幕 | |
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ERECTED
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| adj. 直立的，竖立的，笔直的 vt. 使 ... 直立，建立 | |
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27
berth
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| n.卧铺，停泊地，锚位；v.使停泊 | |
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28
boughs
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| 大树枝( bough的名词复数 ) | |
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bough
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| n.大树枝，主枝 | |
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30
resinous
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| adj.树脂的，树脂质的，树脂制的 | |
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31
Flared
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| adj. 端部张开的, 爆发的, 加宽的, 漏斗式的 动词flare的过去式和过去分词 | |
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32
scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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undoubtedly
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| adv.确实地，无疑地 | |
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savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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35
prey
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| n.被掠食者，牺牲者，掠食；v.捕食，掠夺，折磨 | |
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36
yelp
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| vi.狗吠 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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38
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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39
tangle
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| n.纠缠；缠结；混乱；v.(使)缠绕；变乱 | |
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40
furry
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| adj.毛皮的；似毛皮的；毛皮制的 | |
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41
noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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42
skull
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| n.头骨；颅骨 | |
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43
yelping
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| v.发出短而尖的叫声( yelp的现在分词 ) | |
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44
conjectured
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| 推测，猜测，猜想( conjecture的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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45
famished
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| adj.饥饿的 | |
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46
interval
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| n.间隔，间距；幕间休息，中场休息 | |
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47
sledge
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| n.雪橇，大锤；v.用雪橇搬运，坐雪橇往 | |
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48
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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49
solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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50
desolate
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| adj.荒凉的，荒芜的；孤独的，凄凉的；v.使荒芜，使孤寂 | |
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51
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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52
twigs
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| 细枝，嫩枝( twig的名词复数 ) | |
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53
tunic
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| n.束腰外衣 | |
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54
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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55
lichen
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| n.地衣, 青苔 | |
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56
cartridge
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| n.弹壳，弹药筒；(装磁带等的)盒子 | |
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57
cartridges
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| 子弹( cartridge的名词复数 )； （打印机的）墨盒； 录音带盒； （唱机的）唱头 | |
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58
lighting
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| n.照明，光线的明暗，舞台灯光 | |
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59
precarious
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| adj.不安定的，靠不住的；根据不足的 | |
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60
collapsed
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| adj.倒塌的 | |
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61
lapsed
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| adj.流失的，堕落的v.退步( lapse的过去式和过去分词 )；陷入；倒退；丧失 | |
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62
rending
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| v.撕碎( rend的现在分词 )；分裂；（因愤怒、痛苦等而）揪扯（衣服或头发等）；（声音等）刺破 | |
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63
instinctively
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| adv.本能地 | |
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64
sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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65
hatchet
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| n.短柄小斧；v.扼杀 | |
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66
futile
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| adj.无效的，无用的，无希望的 | |
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67
funereal
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| adj.悲哀的；送葬的 | |
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68
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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