Less than an hour ago he had dropped his rod and creel more than half convinced that it didn’t matter to him or to anybody else whether he got back to Joe Keegón or not. Now, he suddenly found himself hustling1 busily in the underbrush, newly alive to the exigencies2 of the occasion, surprised even at the fact that he could take so extraordinary an interest in the mere3 building of a fire. Back and forth4 from the glade5 to the deep woods he hurried, bringing dry leaves, twigs7, and timber. These he piled against a fallen tree in the lee of the spot he had chosen for his shelter and in a moment a fire was going. Many things bothered him. He had no axe8 and the blade of his hasp-knife was hardly suited to the task he found before him. If his hands were not so tender as they had been a month ago, and if into his faculties9 a glimmering10 of woodcraft had found its way, the fact remained that this blade, his Colt, fishing-rod and his wits (such as they were), were all that he possessed11 in the uneven12 match against the forces of Nature. Something of the calm ruthlessness of the mighty13 wilderness14 came to him at this moment. The immutable15 trees rose before him as symbols of a merciless creed16 which all the forces around him uttered with the terrible eloquence17 of silence. He was an intruder from an alien land, of no importance in the changeless scheme of things—less[12] important than the squirrel which peeped at him slyly from the branch above his head or the chickadee which piped flutelike in the thicket18. The playfellow of his strange summer had become his enemy, only jocular and ironical19 as yet, but still an enemy, with which he must do battle with what weapons he could find.
It was the first time in his life that he had been placed in a position of complete dependence20 upon his own efforts—the first time another had been dependent on him. He and Joe had traveled light; for this, he had learned, was the way to play the game fairly. Nevertheless, he had a guilty feeling that until the present moment he had modified his city methods only so far as was necessary to suit the conditions the man of the wilderness had imposed upon him and that Joe, after all, had done the work. He realized now that he was fronting primeval forces with a naked soul—as naked and almost as helpless as on the day when he had been born. It seemed that the capital of his manhood was now for the first time to be drawn21 upon in a hazardous22 venture, the outcome of which was to depend upon his own ingenuity23 and resourcefulness alone.
And yet the fire was sparkling merrily.
He eyed the blade in his hand as he finished making two roof supports and sighed for Joe Keegón’s little axe. His hands were red and blistered24 already and the lean-to only begun. There were still the boughs25 and birch-bark for a roof and the cedar26 twigs for a bed to be cut. He worked steadily27, but it was an hour before he found time to go down to the stream to see how his fugitive28 fared. She was still sitting as he had left her, on the bank of the stream, gazing into the depths of the pool.
“How are you getting on?” he asked.
“I—I’m all right,” she murmured.
[13]
“Is the ankle any better? I think I’d better be getting you up to the fire now. Perhaps, you’d be willing to cook the fish while I hustle29 for twigs.”
“Of—of course.”
He noticed the catch in her voice, and when he came near her discovered that she was trembling from head to foot.
“Are you suffering still?” he questioned anxiously.
“N-no, not so much. But I—I’m very cold.”
“That’s too bad. We’ll have you all right in a minute. Put your arms around my neck. So.” And bending over, with care for her injured foot, he lifted her again in his arms and carried her up the hill. This time she yielded without a word, nor did she speak until he had put her down on his coat before the fire.
“I don’t know how—to thank you—” she began.
“Then don’t. Put your foot out toward the blaze and rub it again. You’re not so cold now, are you?”
“No—no. I think it’s just n-nervousness that makes me shiver,” she sighed softly. “I never knew what a fire meant before. It’s awfully30 good—the w-warmth of it.”
He watched her curiously31. The fire was bringing a warm tint32 to her cheeks and scarlet33 was making more decisive the lines of her well-modeled lips. It did not take Gallatin long to decide that it was very agreeable to look at her. As he paused, she glanced up at him and caught the end of his gaze, which was more intense in its directness than he had meant it to be, and bent34 her head quickly toward the fire, her lips drawn more firmly together—a second acknowledgment of her sense of the situation, a manifestation35 of her convincing femininity which confirmed a previous impression.
There was quick refuge in the practical.
[14]
“I’m going to clean the fish,” he said carelessly, and turned away.
“I’d like to help, if I could,” she murmured.
“You’d better nurse your ankle for a while,” he said.
“It’s much better now,” she put in. “I can move it without much pain.” She thrust her stockinged foot farther toward the blaze and worked the toes slowly up and down, but as she did so she flinched36 again. “I’m not of much use, am I?” she asked ruefully. “But while you’re doing other things, I might prepare the fish.”
“Oh, no. I’ll do that. Let’s see. We need some sticks to spit them on.”
“Let me make them;” she put her hand into the pocket of her dress and drew forth a knife. “You see I can help.”
“Great!” he cried delightedly. “You haven’t got a teapot, a frying-pan, some cups and forks and spoons hidden anywhere have you?”
She looked up at him and laughed for the first time, a fine generous laugh which established at once a new relationship between them.
“No—I haven’t—but I’ve a saucepan.”
“Where?” in amazement37.
“Tied to my creel—over there,” and she pointed38, “and a small package of tea and some biscuits. I take my own lunch when I fish. I didn’t eat any to-day.”
“Wonderful! A saucepan! I was wondering how—tied to your creel, you say?” and he started off rapidly in the direction of the spot where he had found her.
“And please b-bring my rod—and—and my shoe,” she cried.
He nodded and was off through the brush, finding the place without difficulty. It was a very tiny saucepan, which would hold at the most two cupfuls of liquid, but it[15] would serve. He hurried back eagerly, anxious to complete his arrangements for the meal, and found her propped39 up against the back log, his creel beside her, industriously40 preparing the fish.
“How did you get over there?” he asked.
“Crawled. I couldn’t abide41 just sitting. I feel a lot better already.”
“That was very imprudent,” he said quickly. “We’ll never get out of here until you can use that foot.”
“Oh! I hadn’t thought of that,” demurely42. “I’ll try to be careful. Did you bring my shoe—and legging?”
He held them out for her inspection43.
“You’d better not try to put them on—not to-night, anyway. To-morrow, perhaps——”
“To-morrow!” She looked up at him, and then at the frames of the lean-to, as though the thought that she must spend the night in the woods had for the first time occurred to her. A deep purple shadow was crawling slowly up from the eastward44 and only the very tops of the tallest trees above them were catching45 the warm light of the declining sun. The woods were dimmer now and distant trees which a moment ago had been visible were merged46 in shadow. Some of the birds, too, were beginning to trill their even-song.
“Yes,” he went on, “you see it’s getting late. There’s hardly a chance of any one finding us to-night. But we’re going to make out nicely. If you really insist on cleaning those fish——”
“I do—and on making some tea——”
“Then I must get the stuff for your bed before it’s too dark to see.”
He filled the saucepan with water at the stream, then turned back into the woods for the cedar twigs.
[16]
“The bed comes first,” he muttered to himself. “That’s what Joe would say. There’s caribou47 moss48 up on the slope and the balsam is handy. It isn’t going to rain to-night, but I’ll try to build a shelter anyway—boughs now—and canoe birches to-morrow, if I can find any. But I’ve got to hustle.”
Six pilgrimages he made into the woods, bringing back each time armloads of boughs and twigs. He was conscious presently of a delicious odor of cooking food; and long before he had brought in his last armful, she pleaded with him to come and eat. But he only shook his head and plunged49 again into the bushes. It was almost dark when he finished and threw the last load on the pile he had made. When he approached he found her sitting motionless, watching him, both creels beside her, her hand holding up to the fire a stick which stuck through the fish she had cooked. The saucepan was simmering in the ashes.
“How do they taste?” he asked cheerfully.
“I haven’t eaten any.”
“Why not?”
“I was waiting for you.”
“Oh, you mustn’t do that,” sharply. “I didn’t want you to wait.”
“You know,” she interrupted, “I’m your guest.”
“I didn’t know it,” he laughed. “I thought I was yours. It’s your saucepan——”
“But your fish—” she added, and then indicating a little mischievously50, “except that biggest one—which was mine. But I’m afraid they’ll be cold—I’ve waited so long. You must eat at once, you’re awfully tired.”
“Oh, no, I’ve still got a lot to do. I’ll just take a bite and——”
“Please sit down—you must, really.”
[17]
Her fingers touched the sleeve of his shirt and he yielded, sinking beside her with an unconscious sigh of relaxation51 which was more like a groan52. He was dead-tired—how tired he had not known until he had yielded. She saw the haggard look in his eyes and the lines which the firelight was drawing around his cheek-bones, and at the corners of his mouth; and it came to her suddenly that he might not be so strong as she had thought him. If he was an invalid53 from the South, the burden of carrying her through the woods might easily have taxed his strength. She examined his face critically for a moment, and then fumbling54 quickly in the pocket of her dress drew forth a small, new-looking flask55, which gleamed brightly in the firelight.
“Here,” she said kindly56, “take some of this, it will do you good.”
Gallatin followed her motion wearily. Her hand had even reached the cap of the bottle and had given it a preparatory twist before he understood what it all meant. Then he started suddenly upright and put his fingers over hers.
“No!” he muttered huskily. “Not that—I—I don’t—I won’t have anything—thank you.”
And as she watched his lowering brows and tightly drawn lips—puzzled and not a little curious, he stumbled to his feet and hurriedly replaced a log which had fallen from the fire. But when a moment later he returned to his place, his features bore no signs of discomposure.
“I think I’m only hungry,” he mumbled57.
She unhooked the largest fish from the stick and handed it to him daintily.
“There, that’s yours. I’ve been saving it for you—just to convince you that I’m the better fisherman.”
[18]
“I don’t doubt it,” he said soberly. “I’m a good deal of a duffer at this game.”
“But then,” she put in generously, “you caught more than I did, and that evens matters.”
They had begun eating now, and in a moment it seemed that food was the only thing they had lacked. As became two healthy young animals, they ate ravenously58 of the biscuits she had carried and all of the fish she had prepared, and then Gallatin cooked more. The girl removed the metal cup from the bottom of her flask and taking turn and turn about with the tiny vessel59 they drank the steaming tea. In this familiar act they seemed to have reached at once a definite and satisfactory understanding. Gallatin was thankful for that, and he was careful to put her still further at her ease by a somewhat obtrusive60 air of indifference61. She repaid him for this consideration by the frankness of her smile. He examined her furtively62 when he could and was conscious that when his face was turned in profile, she, too, was studying him anxiously, as only a woman in such a situation might. Whatever it was that she learned was not unpleasing to her, for, as he raised his hand to carry the tea to his lips, her voice was raised in a different tone.
“Your hands!” she said. “They’re all cut and bleeding.”
He glanced at his broken knuckles63 impersonally64.
“Are they? I hadn’t noticed before. You see, I hadn’t any hatchet65.”
“Won’t you let me—hadn’t you better bathe them in the water?”
“A bath wouldn’t hurt them, would it?”
“I didn’t mean that. Don’t they hurt?”
“No, not at all. But I wish I had Joe’s axe.”
“Who’s Joe?”
[19]
“My guide.”
“Oh.”
She questioned no further; for here, she realized instinctively66, were the ends of the essential, the beginnings of the personal. And so the conversation quickly turned to practical considerations. Of one thing she was now assured—her companion was a gentleman. What kind of a gentleman she had not guessed, for there were many kinds, she had discovered; but there was nothing unduly67 alarming in his manner or appearance and she concluded for the present to accept him, with reservations, upon his face value.
His body fed, Gallatin felt singularly comfortable. The problems that had hung so thickly around his head a while ago, were going up with the smoke of the fire. Here were meat, drink and society. Were not these, after all, the end and aim of human existence? Had the hoary68 earth with all its vast treasures ever been able to produce more? He took his pouch69 from his pocket, and asking if he might smoke, lit his pipe with a coal from the fire (for matches were precious) and sank back at the girl’s feet. The time for confidences, were there to be any, had arrived. She felt it in the sudden stoppage of the desultory70 flow of comment and in the polite, if appraising71 steadiness of his gaze.
“I suppose you have a right to know what I’m doing here,” she said flushing a little, “but there isn’t anything to tell. I left our camp—as you did, to fish. I’ve done it before, often. Sometimes alone—sometimes with a party. I—I wasn’t alone this morning and I—I—” she hesitated, frowning. “It doesn’t matter in the least about that, of course,” she went on quickly. “I—I got separated from my—my companion and went farther into the brush than I had intended to do. When I found that[20] I had lost my way, I called again and again. Nobody answered. Then something happened to me, I don’t know what. I think it must have been the sound of the echoes of my own voice that frightened me, for suddenly I seemed to go mad with terror. After that I don’t remember anything, except that I felt I must reach the end of the woods, so that I could see beyond the barrier of trees which seemed to be closing in about me like living things. It was frightful72. I only knew that I went on and on—until I saw you. And after that—” her words were slower, her voice dropped a note and then stopped altogether—“and that is all,” she finished.
“It’s enough, God knows,” he said, sitting upright. “You must have suffered.”
“I did—I wonder what got into me. I’ve never been frightened in the woods before.” She turned her head over her shoulder and peered into the shadows. “I don’t seem to be frightened now.”
“I’m glad. I’m going to try to make you forget that. You’re in no danger here. To-morrow I’ll try to find my back trail—or Joe Keegón may follow mine. In the meanwhile”—and he started to his feet, “I’ve got a lot to do. Just sit quietly there and nurse your ankle while I make your bed. And if I don’t make it properly, the way you’re used to having it, just tell me. Won’t you?”
“Hair, please, with linen73 sheets, and a down pillow,” she enjoined74.
“I’ll try,” he said with a laugh, for he knew now that the tone she used was only a cloak to hide the shrinking of her spirit. She sat as he had commanded, leaning as comfortably as she could against the tree trunk, watching his dim figure as it moved back and forth among the shadows. First he trod upon and scraped the ground, picking up small stones and twigs and throwing them into[21] the darkness until he had cleared a level spot. Then piece by piece he laid the caribou moss as evenly as he could. He had seen Joe do this some days ago when they had made their three-day camp. The cedar came next; and, beginning at the foot and laying the twig6 ends upward, he advanced to the head, a layer at a time, thus successively covering the stub ends and making a soft and level couch. When it was finished, he lay on it, and made some slight adjustments.
“I’m sorry it’s not a pneumatic—and about the blankets—but I’m afraid it will have to do.”
“It looks beautiful,” she assented75, “and I hate pneumatics. I’ll be quite warm enough, I’m sure.”
To make the matter of warmth more certain, he pitched two of the biggest logs on the flames, and then made a rough thatch76 of the larger boughs over the supports that he had set in position. When he had finished, he stood before her smiling.
“There’s nothing left, I think—but to get to bed. I’m going off for enough firewood to last us until morning. Shall I carry you over now or——”
“Oh, I think I can manage,” she said, her lips dropping demurely. “I did before—while you were away, you know.” She straightened and her brows drew together. “What I’m puzzled about now is about you. Where are you going to sleep?”
“Me? That’s easy. Out here by the fire.”
“Oh!” she said thoughtfully.
点击
收听单词发音
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1
hustling
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| 催促（hustle的现在分词形式） | |
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exigencies
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| n.急切需要 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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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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twig
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| n.小树枝，嫩枝；v.理解 | |
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twigs
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| 细枝，嫩枝( twig的名词复数 ) | |
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axe
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| n.斧子；v.用斧头砍，削减 | |
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faculties
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| n.能力( faculty的名词复数 )；全体教职员；技巧；院 | |
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glimmering
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| n.微光，隐约的一瞥adj.薄弱地发光的v.发闪光，发微光( glimmer的现在分词 ) | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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uneven
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| adj.不平坦的，不规则的，不均匀的 | |
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mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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wilderness
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| n.杳无人烟的一片陆地、水等，荒漠 | |
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immutable
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| adj.不可改变的，永恒的 | |
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creed
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| n.信条；信念，纲领 | |
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eloquence
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| n.雄辩；口才，修辞 | |
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thicket
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| n.灌木丛，树林 | |
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ironical
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| adj.讽刺的，冷嘲的 | |
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dependence
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| n.依靠，依赖；信任，信赖；隶属 | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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hazardous
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| adj.(有)危险的，冒险的；碰运气的 | |
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ingenuity
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| n.别出心裁；善于发明创造 | |
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blistered
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| adj.水疮状的，泡状的v.（使）起水泡( blister的过去式和过去分词 )；（使表皮等）涨破，爆裂 | |
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boughs
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| 大树枝( bough的名词复数 ) | |
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cedar
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| n.雪松，香柏(木) | |
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steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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fugitive
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| adj.逃亡的，易逝的；n.逃犯，逃亡者 | |
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hustle
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| v.推搡；竭力兜售或获取；催促；n.奔忙(碌) | |
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awfully
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| adv.可怕地，非常地，极端地 | |
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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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tint
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| n.淡色，浅色；染发剂；vt.着以淡淡的颜色 | |
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scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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manifestation
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| n.表现形式；表明；现象 | |
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flinched
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| v.（因危险和痛苦）退缩，畏惧( flinch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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propped
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| 支撑，支持，维持( prop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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industriously
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abide
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| vi.遵守；坚持；vt.忍受 | |
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demurely
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| adv.装成端庄地，认真地 | |
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inspection
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| n.检查，审查，检阅 | |
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eastward
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| adv.向东；adj.向东的；n.东方，东部 | |
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catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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merged
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| （使）混合( merge的过去式和过去分词 )； 相融； 融入； 渐渐消失在某物中 | |
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47
caribou
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| n.北美驯鹿 | |
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moss
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| n.苔，藓，地衣 | |
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plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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50
mischievously
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| adv.有害地；淘气地 | |
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relaxation
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| n.松弛，放松；休息；消遣；娱乐 | |
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groan
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| vi./n.呻吟，抱怨；(发出)呻吟般的声音 | |
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53
invalid
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| n.病人，伤残人；adj.有病的，伤残的；无效的 | |
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fumbling
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| n. 摸索,漏接 v. 摸索,摸弄,笨拙的处理 | |
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55
flask
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| n.瓶，火药筒，砂箱 | |
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56
kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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mumbled
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| 含糊地说某事，叽咕，咕哝( mumble的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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ravenously
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| adv.大嚼地，饥饿地 | |
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vessel
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| n.船舶；容器，器皿；管，导管，血管 | |
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obtrusive
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| adj.显眼的；冒失的 | |
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indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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furtively
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| adv. 偷偷地, 暗中地 | |
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63
knuckles
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| n.（指人）指关节( knuckle的名词复数 )；（指动物）膝关节，踝v.（指人）指关节( knuckle的第三人称单数 )；（指动物）膝关节，踝 | |
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64
impersonally
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| ad.非人称地 | |
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hatchet
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| n.短柄小斧；v.扼杀 | |
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66
instinctively
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| adv.本能地 | |
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unduly
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| adv.过度地，不适当地 | |
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hoary
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| adj.古老的；鬓发斑白的 | |
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pouch
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| n.小袋，小包，囊状袋；vt.装...入袋中，用袋运输；vi.用袋送信件 | |
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desultory
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| adj.散漫的，无方法的 | |
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appraising
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| v.估价( appraise的现在分词 )；估计；估量；评价 | |
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frightful
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| adj.可怕的；讨厌的 | |
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73
linen
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| n.亚麻布，亚麻线，亚麻制品；adj.亚麻布制的，亚麻的 | |
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enjoined
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| v.命令( enjoin的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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assented
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| 同意，赞成( assent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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thatch
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| vt.用茅草覆盖…的顶部；n.茅草(屋) | |
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