In general it was very much like the place that we had left—the same succession of mountain after mountain, all densely7 covered with trees, and with the streams winding8 down through gulch9 and valley. The stream that we had followed was now a river, broader all along its course than the beavers’ pool which had saved our lives, and at one place, about two miles beyond the end of the burned region, it passed through a valley, wider than any that I had seen, with an expanse of level land on either side. Here it was, on this level bottom-land, that I first tasted what are, I think, next to honey, of all wild things the greatest treat that a bear knows—ripe blueberries. But this ‘berry-patch,’ as we called it, was to play a very important part in my life, and I must explain.
We had soon learned that we were now almost in the middle of men. There was the party which had passed us going up the stream into the burned country. There were two more log-houses about[59] a mile from the edge of the burned country, and therefore also behind us. There were others further down the stream, and almost every day men passed either up or down the river, going from one set of houses to another. Finally we heard, and, before we had been there a week, saw with our own eyes, that only some ten miles further on, where our stream joined another and made a mighty10 river, there was a town, which had all sprung up since last winter, in which hundreds of men lived together. This was the great drawback of our new home. But if we went further on, the chances were that we should only come to more and more men; and for the present, by lying up most of the day, and only going out at night in the direction of their houses, there was no difficulty in keeping away from them.
Familiarity with them indeed had lessened11 our terror. We certainly had no desire to hurt them, and they, as they passed up and down or went about their work digging in the ground along the side of the river or chopping down trees, appeared to give no thought to us; and with that fear removed, even though we kept constantly on the alert, lest they should unexpectedly come too near us, our life was happy and free from care. Father[60] and mother grew to be like their old selves again, less gruff and nervous than they had been since the memorable12 day when we saw Cinnamon with his broken leg; and as for Kahwa and me, though we romped13 less than we used to do—for we were seven months old now, and at seven months a bear is getting to be a big and serious animal—we were as happy as two young bears could be. After a long hot day, during which we had been sleeping in the shade, what could be more delightful14 than to go and lie in the cool stream, where it flowed only a foot or so deep, and as clear as the air itself, over a firm sandy bottom? There were frogs, and snails15, and beetles16 of all sorts, along the water’s edge, and the juicy stems of the reeds and water-plants. Then, in the night we wandered abroad finding lily roots, and the sweet ferns, and camas, and mushrooms, with another visit to the river in the early morning, and perhaps a trout17 to wind up with before the sun drove us under cover again.
And above all there was the berry-patch.
The mere18 smell of a berry-patch at the end of summer, when the sun has been beating down all day, so that the air is heavy with the scent19 of the cooking fruit, is delicious enough, but it is nothing to the sweetness of the berries themselves.
[61]
It was in the evening, after our dip in the river, when twilight20 was shading into night, that we used to visit the patch. It was a great open space in a bend of the river, half a mile long and nearly as wide, without a tree on it, and nothing but just the blue-berry bushes growing close together all over it, reaching about up to one’s chest as one walked through, and every bush loaded with berries. Not only we, but every bear in the neighbourhood, used to go there each evening—the two other families of whom I have spoken, and also two other single he-bears who had no families. One of these was the only animal in the neighbourhood—except the porcupines22, which every bear hates—whom I disliked and feared. He was a bad-tempered23 beast, bigger than father, with whom at our first meeting he wanted to pick a quarrel, while making friends with mother. She, however, would not have anything to say to him. When he was getting ready to fight my father—walking sideways at him and snarling24, while my father, I am bound to confess, backed away—mother did not say a word, but went straight at him as she had rushed at the puma3 that day when she saved my life. Then father jumped at him also, and between them they bundled him[62] along till he fairly took to his heels and ran. But whenever we met him after that—and we saw him every evening at the patch—he snarled25 viciously at us, and I, at least, was careful to keep father and mother between him and me. If he had caught any one of us alone, I believe he would have killed us; so we took care that he never should.
I can see the berry-patch now, lying white and shining in the moonlight, with here and there round the edges, and even sometimes pretty well out into the middle, if the night was not too light, the black spots showing where the bears were feeding. We enjoyed our feasts in silence, and beyond an occasional snapping of a twig26, or the cry of some animal from the forest, or the screech27 of a passing owl28, there was not a sound but that of our own eating. One night, however, there came an interruption.
It was bright moonlight, and we were revelling in our enjoyment29 of the fruit, but father was curiously30 restless. The air was very still, but in a little gust31 of wind early in the evening father declared that he had smelled man. As an hour passed and there was no further sign of him, however, we forgot him in the delight of the ripe[63] berries. Suddenly from the other side of the patch, nearly half a mile away from us, rang out the awful voice of the thunder-stick. We did not wait to see what was happening, but made at all speed for the shelter of the trees, and tore on up the mountain slope. There was no further sound, but we did not dare to go back to the patch that night, nor did we see any of the other bears; so that it was not until some days afterwards that we heard that the thunder-stick had very nearly killed the mother of one of the other families. It had cut a deep wound in her neck, and she had saved herself only by plunging32 into the woods. If we had known all this at the time, I doubt if we should have gone back to the berry-patch as we did on the very next night.
On our way to the patch we met the bad-tempered bear coming away from it. That was curious, and if it had been anybody else we should undoubtedly33 have asked him why he was leaving the feast at that time in the evening. Had we done so, it might have saved a lot of trouble. As it was, we only snarled back at him as he passed snarling by us, and went on our way. We were very careful, however, and took a long time to make our way out of the trees down to the edge[64] of the bushes; but there was no sound to make us uneasy, nor any smell of man in such wind as blew. Of course we took care to approach the patch at the furthest point from where we had heard the thunder-stick on the night before. It was a cloudy night, and the moon shone only at intervals34. Taking advantage of a passing cloud, we slipped out from the cover of the trees into the berry-bushes. We could see no other bears, but they might be hidden by the clouds. In a minute, however, the moon shone out, and had there been any others there—at least, as far out from the edge as ourselves—we must have been able to see them. Certainly, alas35! we were seen, for even as I was looking round the patch in the first ray of the moonlight to see if any of our friends were there, the thunder-stick rang out again, and once more we plunged36 for the trees. But this time the sound was much nearer, and there was a second report before we were well into the shadow, and then a third. So terrified were we that there was no thought of stopping, but after we got into the woods we kept straight on as fast as we could go, father and mother in front, I next, and Kahwa behind; and none of us looked back, for we heard the shouts of men and the crashing of branches as they ran, and again and again the thunder-stick spoke21.
[65]
Suddenly I became aware that Kahwa was not behind me. I stopped and looked round, but she was nowhere to be seen. I remembered having heard her give a sudden squeal37, as if she had trodden on something sharp, but I had paid no attention to it at the time. Now I became frightened, and called to father and mother to stop. They were a long way ahead, and it was some time before I could get near enough to attract their attention and tell them that Kahwa was missing.
Mother wished to charge straight down the hill again at the men, thunder-sticks or no thunder-sticks; but father dissuaded38 her, and at last we began to retrace39 our steps cautiously, keeping our ears and noses open for any sign either of Kahwa or of man. As we came near the edge of the wood, noises reached us—shouts and stamping; and then, mixed with the other sounds, I clearly heard Kahwa’s voice. She was crying in anger and pain, as if she was fighting, and fighting desperately40. A minute later we were near enough to see, and a miserable41 sight it was that we saw.
Out in the middle of the berry-patch, in the[66] brilliant moonlight, was poor Kahwa with four men. They had fastened ropes around her, and two of them at the end of one rope on one side, and two at the end of one on the other, were dragging her across the middle of the patch. She was fighting every inch of the way, but her struggles against four men were useless, and slowly, yard by yard, she was being dragged away from us.
SLOWLY, YARD BY YARD, SHE WAS BEING DRAGGED AWAY FROM US.
[Enlarge]
But if she could not fight four men, could not we? There were four of us, and I said so to my father. But he only grunted42, and reminded me of the thunder-sticks. It was only too true. Without the thunder-sticks we should have had no difficulty in meeting them, but with those weapons in their hands it would only be sacrificing our lives in vain to attempt a rescue. So there we had to stand and watch, my mother all the time whimpering, and my father growling43, and sitting up on his haunches and rubbing his nose in his chest. We dared not show ourselves in the open, so we followed the edge of the patch, keeping alongside of the men, but in the shadow of the trees. They pulled Kahwa across the middle of the patch into the woods on the other side, and down to the river-bank, where, we knew, there began an open path[67] which the men had beaten in going to and from their houses half a mile further on. Here there were several houses in a bunch together. Inside one of these they shut her, and then all went in to another house themselves. We stayed around, and two or three times later on we saw one or more of the men come out and stand for awhile at Kahwa’s door listening; but at last they came out no more, and we saw the lights go out in their house, and we knew that the men had gone to sleep.
Then we crept down cautiously till we could hear Kahwa whimpering and growling through the walls. My mother spoke to her, and there was silence for a moment, and then, when mother spoke again, the poor little thing recognised her voice and squealed44 with delight. But what could we do? We talked to her for awhile, and tried to scratch away the earth from round the wall, in the hope of getting at her; but it was all useless, and as the day began to dawn nothing remained but to make off before the men arose, and to crawl away to hide ourselves in the woods again.
What a wretched night that was! Hitherto I do not think that I had thought much of Kahwa. I had taken her as a matter of course, played[68] with her and quarrelled with her by turns, without stopping to think what life might be without her. But now I thought of it, and as I lay awake through the morning I realized how much she had been to me, and wondered what the men would do with her. Most of all I wondered why they should have wanted to catch her at all. We had no wish to do them any harm. We were nobody’s enemy; least of all was little Kahwa. Why could not men live in peace with us as we were willing to live in peace with them?
Long before it was dusk next evening we were in the woods as near to the men’s houses as we dared to go, but we could hear no sound of my sister’s voice. There appeared to be only one man about the place, and he was at work chopping wood, until just at sunset, when the other three men came back from down the stream, and we noticed that they carried long ropes slung45 over their arms. Were those the ropes with which they had dragged Kahwa the night before? If so, had they again, while we slept, dragged her off somewhere else? We feared it must be so.
Impatiently we waited until it was dark enough to trust ourselves in the open near the houses, and then we soon knew that our fears were justified46.[69] The door of the house in which Kahwa had been shut was open; the men went in and out of it, and evidently Kahwa was not there. Nor was there any trace of her about the buildings. So under my father’s guidance we started on the path down the stream by which the three men had returned, and it was not long before we found the marks of where she had struggled against her captors, and in places the scent of her trail was still perceptible, in spite of the strong man-smell which pervaded47 the beaten path.
So we followed the trail down until we came to more houses; then made a circuit and followed on again, still finding evidence that she had passed. Soon we came to more houses, at ever shortening intervals, until the bank of the stream on both sides was either continuously occupied by houses or showed traces of men being constantly at work there. And beyond was the town itself. It was of no use for us to go further. In the town we could see lights streaming from many of the buildings, and the shouting of men’s voices came to our ears. We wandered round the outskirts48 of the town till it was daylight, and then drew back into the hills and lay down again, very sad and hungry—for we had hardly thought of food—and very lonesome.
[70]
Kahwa, we felt sure, was somewhere among those houses in the town. But that was little comfort to us. And all the time we wondered what man wanted with her, and why he could not have left us to be happy, as we had been before he came.
点击收听单词发音
1 prey | |
n.被掠食者,牺牲者,掠食;v.捕食,掠夺,折磨 | |
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2 drawn | |
v.拖,拉,拔出;adj.憔悴的,紧张的 | |
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3 puma | |
美洲豹 | |
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4 pumas | |
n.美洲狮( puma的名词复数 );彪马;于1948年成立于德国荷索金劳勒(Herzogenaurach)的国际运动品牌;创始人:鲁道夫及达斯勒。 | |
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5 yelping | |
v.发出短而尖的叫声( yelp的现在分词 ) | |
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6 revelling | |
v.作乐( revel的现在分词 );狂欢;着迷;陶醉 | |
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7 densely | |
ad.密集地;浓厚地 | |
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8 winding | |
n.绕,缠,绕组,线圈 | |
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9 gulch | |
n.深谷,峡谷 | |
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10 mighty | |
adj.强有力的;巨大的 | |
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11 lessened | |
减少的,减弱的 | |
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12 memorable | |
adj.值得回忆的,难忘的,特别的,显著的 | |
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13 romped | |
v.嬉笑玩闹( romp的过去式和过去分词 );(尤指在赛跑或竞选等中)轻易获胜 | |
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14 delightful | |
adj.令人高兴的,使人快乐的 | |
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15 snails | |
n.蜗牛;迟钝的人;蜗牛( snail的名词复数 ) | |
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16 beetles | |
n.甲虫( beetle的名词复数 ) | |
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17 trout | |
n.鳟鱼;鲑鱼(属) | |
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18 mere | |
adj.纯粹的;仅仅,只不过 | |
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19 scent | |
n.气味,香味,香水,线索,嗅觉;v.嗅,发觉 | |
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20 twilight | |
n.暮光,黄昏;暮年,晚期,衰落时期 | |
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21 spoke | |
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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22 porcupines | |
n.豪猪,箭猪( porcupine的名词复数 ) | |
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23 bad-tempered | |
adj.脾气坏的 | |
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24 snarling | |
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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25 snarled | |
v.(指狗)吠,嗥叫, (人)咆哮( snarl的过去式和过去分词 );咆哮着说,厉声地说 | |
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26 twig | |
n.小树枝,嫩枝;v.理解 | |
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27 screech | |
n./v.尖叫;(发出)刺耳的声音 | |
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28 owl | |
n.猫头鹰,枭 | |
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29 enjoyment | |
n.乐趣;享有;享用 | |
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30 curiously | |
adv.有求知欲地;好问地;奇特地 | |
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31 gust | |
n.阵风,突然一阵(雨、烟等),(感情的)迸发 | |
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32 plunging | |
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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33 undoubtedly | |
adv.确实地,无疑地 | |
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34 intervals | |
n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 );间隔时间;[数学]区间;(戏剧、电影或音乐会的)幕间休息 | |
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35 alas | |
int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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36 plunged | |
v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 );暴跌;骤降;突降 | |
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37 squeal | |
v.发出长而尖的声音;n.长而尖的声音 | |
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38 dissuaded | |
劝(某人)勿做某事,劝阻( dissuade的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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39 retrace | |
v.折回;追溯,探源 | |
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40 desperately | |
adv.极度渴望地,绝望地,孤注一掷地 | |
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41 miserable | |
adj.悲惨的,痛苦的;可怜的,糟糕的 | |
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42 grunted | |
(猪等)作呼噜声( grunt的过去式和过去分词 ); (指人)发出类似的哼声; 咕哝着说 | |
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43 growling | |
n.吠声, 咆哮声 v.怒吠, 咆哮, 吼 | |
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44 squealed | |
v.长声尖叫,用长而尖锐的声音说( squeal的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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45 slung | |
抛( sling的过去式和过去分词 ); 吊挂; 遣送; 押往 | |
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46 justified | |
a.正当的,有理的 | |
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47 pervaded | |
v.遍及,弥漫( pervade的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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48 outskirts | |
n.郊外,郊区 | |
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