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热爱生命：杰克·伦敦短篇小说选

为赶路的人干杯|To the Man on Trail

属类： 双语小说 【分类】双语小说 阅读：[23837]
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“你把它掺进去呀！”

1
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“你听我说，基德，这味道太烈了些吧？威士忌加酒精就已经够呛了，要是再加上白兰地、胡椒汁和……”

2
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“叫你掺你就掺。到底是谁在调制这鸡尾酒呢？”马拉摩特·基德透过一团团的水蒸气满脸慈祥地笑了笑，“孩子，你要是跟我一样在这儿待久了，天天吃野兔和鲑鱼腩度日，你就会明白一年一度的圣诞节是多么珍贵了。而过圣诞节没有喝到鸡尾酒，便等于是已经把洞挖到了岩床上，却连一条富矿脉也没有找到。”

3
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“你说得很在理。”大吉姆·贝尔登很赞成基德的话。他的矿场在梅兹梅，这次是特地赶来过圣诞的。谁都知道，在过去的两个月里，他完全靠吃鹿肉过日子。“那次咱们在塔纳纳河畔自制烈酒喝，当时的情景你还没忘吧？”

4
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“我想是不会忘的。伙计们，用糖和酸面团竟酿出了那样棒的烧酒，大家喝醉后大吵大闹着，那场景让人看了真痛快。当时，你还没有出生呢。”马拉摩特·基德说着，把头转向了年轻的采矿专家斯坦利·普林斯，此人来这儿刚满两年，“那个时候，这一带没有白种女人。梅森想娶露丝，而露丝的父亲是塔纳纳族的酋长，他反对他们的婚事，部落里其余的人也一个样。死脑筋吧？嘿，我用了我最后一磅糖，那是我一生中酿得最好的酒了。你真该看看那场追击，一路沿河岸而下，直至水陆联运点。”

5
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“那个印第安女人后来怎么样啦？”高个子的法裔加拿大人路易斯·萨沃伊听得来了兴趣，开口问道。去年冬天在四十英里矿区时，他听说过这个胆大妄为的事件。

6
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马拉摩特·基德天生就是一个擅长讲故事的人，于是便讲起了这个北方的洛钦瓦尔(1)的动人故事。一桩桩发生在北方的带着荒蛮气息的事件刺激着他的心房，勾起他对南方朦朦胧胧的思念，使他想到了那儿阳光普照的牧草地——那儿的生活总是给人以希望，而不只是一片与寒冷和死亡奋力抗争的荒芜。

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(1) 这里是指代英国作家司各特的长诗《玛密恩》中的男主角。其中有一首诗叫《洛钦瓦尔》，描写了洛钦瓦尔因为爱慕美丽的艾伦，就在她结婚的那天将她抢走了。这里隐指梅森。
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“我们踏上育空河时，第一次融冰刚结束。”基德在故事的结尾处讲道，“部落里的追兵只比我们晚到了一刻钟，可正是这一刻钟使我们得以脱险。因为第二次融冰冲开了上游淤塞的冰块，把他们拦在了对岸。待到他们最终追到努克鲁克托的时候，全矿区的人都已经聚集在那里等着他们了。至于婚礼的情况，你还是问这位鲁博神父吧，当时是他主持的。”

8
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这位耶稣会的神父听了，将烟斗从嘴边拿开，只是郑重一笑，以表达内心的喜悦，而新教徒和天主教徒则兴奋得鼓起了掌。

9
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“太棒了！”路易斯·萨沃伊深受故事的浪漫情调感染，不由得高声叫了起来，“这个印第安小女子！我勇敢的梅森！太棒了！”

10
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接着，当第一批盛满鸡尾酒的锡杯分配完毕后，“激情的贝特尔斯”匆匆站起身，亮开嗓子唱起了他最爱的祝酒歌：

11
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有一个亨利·华德·比契尔，

12
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还有主日学校的教员们，

13
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他们喝着檫木根酿的酒呀，推杯把盏；

14
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但你照样深信不疑，

15
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要是给这种酒一个恰当的名称，

16
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禁果佳酿就是它的美名。

17
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啊，禁果佳酿就是它的美名！

18
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酒乡的人一起高唱起来——

19
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啊，禁果佳酿就是它的美名！

20
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但你照样深信不疑，

21
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要是给这种酒一个恰当的名称，

22
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禁果佳酿就是它的美名！

23
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马拉摩特·基德调制的那种令人振奋的混合酒起作用了。宿营地的人和过路的投宿客几杯酒下肚，顿时觉得浑身暖烘烘的，筋骨也舒展开了。大家围着餐桌，又是说笑，又是唱歌，又是讲述过去的冒险经历。他们来自五湖四海，互相敬着酒。英国人普林斯提议为“山姆大叔，新世界的早熟婴儿”(2)干杯；美国人贝特尔斯的祝酒词则是“为女王干杯，愿上帝保佑她”；萨沃伊和德国商人迈耶斯碰杯，为“阿尔萨斯-洛林”(3)干杯。

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(2) 喻指美国。
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接着，马拉摩特·基德站起身，举杯在手，向防油纸糊的窗户望了一眼（窗上结的冰霜足足有三英寸厚），然后说道：“祝今夜赶路的人身强体健；愿他带有足够的干粮；愿拉雪橇的狗能坚持到底；愿他的火柴不湿，能点得亮篝火。”

25
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啪！啪！就在这时，大家听见几声熟悉而悦耳的狗鞭响，爱斯基摩狗呜呜地号叫着，一辆雪橇嘎吱一声停在了木屋外。于是，大家止住了谈笑，等待着客人进屋来。

26
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“是个老手，先顾狗，再顾他自己。”当他们听见了狗的撕咬声、像狼一样的嗥吠和痛苦的狺狺狂吠时，马拉摩特·基德悄声对普林斯说。他们耳朵灵敏，一听就知道来客正一边打退他们的狗，一边喂他自己的狗。

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最后，大伙儿期盼已久的敲门声终于响起了，声音响亮、有力。来客走进门，被屋里的灯光照花了眼，便在门口停顿了片刻，屋里的人借此机会将他仔细打量了一番。但见他气宇轩昂，生得英俊潇洒，穿一身羊毛极地服和皮衣，个头有六英尺二三英寸高，肩膀宽度适中，厚胸脯，一张不留胡须的脸冻得通红，长长的眉毛和睫毛上都结满了白色冰碴子，狼皮大帽子的护耳同护颈都松松地敞开来，俨然就是一位从茫茫的夜幕里走出来的冰雪世界里的国王。他的短大衣外面系着一条子弹带，皮带上吊着两支大大的柯尔特(4)自动手枪和一把猎刀，手里拿着一根必不可少的狗鞭，还背着一支口径最大、式样最新的无烟步枪。随即，他走上前来，步子稳健、灵活，但仍看得出他已疲惫不堪。

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(4) 美国著名枪械公司。
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屋里陷入了一阵尴尬的沉默，但他热诚地招呼了一声，“伙计们，你们好！”这一声很快缓解了气氛。紧接着，马拉摩特·基德跟他握了手。二人虽然从来没有见过面，可是久闻彼此大名，一见面就相互认了出来。做主人的二话不说，先给他介绍了在座的各位，又将一缸子酒塞到他手里，这才容他解释来意。

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“有三个男人赶着八只狗拉的一辆篮子雪橇曾从此处路过。他们过去有多久了？”他问道。

30
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“都过去两天了。你在追赶他们吗？”

31
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“对，那是我的雪橇和狗。那几个坏家伙竟敢在我的眼皮底下把雪橇偷走。我追他们，已经缩短了两天的路程，再赶一程就追上了。”

32
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“他们恐怕会动粗吧？”为了不使谈话中断，贝尔登开口问道，因为这时候，马拉摩特·基德已经把咖啡放在炉子上，正忙着煎腌猪肉和鹿肉呢。

33
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这个陌生人意味深长地拍了拍他的左轮手枪。

34
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“你什么时候离开道森(5)的？”

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(5) 加拿大西北部城市。
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“十二点。”

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“昨天夜里十二点？”贝尔登想当然地问。

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“今天中午十二点。”

38
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周围顿时响起一阵惊呼。这很棒了。此时刚到午夜，想不到他在十二个小时内竟然在冰雪覆盖的河道上跑了七十五英里的路，这可不是开玩笑的。

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不过，大家很快就把话题转移了，有人回忆起了童年时候的事情。趁着那位年轻的陌生来客吃着这顿粗粝的饭食时，马拉摩特·基德仔细观察了一下他的面相，立刻断定这是一张正直、诚实、坦率的脸，他很是喜欢。此人年龄虽然不大，脸上却已有一道道辛勤劳作和历经艰险所留下的皱纹。虽然他言语之间不乏亲切感，休息时态度也显得很温和，但他那双蓝眼睛定会在一旦付诸行动，特别是遇到危险的时候，闪射出刚毅的光芒。那有力的下颚和方正的下巴显露出了他顽强、坚忍不拔、百折不挠的性格。不过，尽管他勇猛得像头雄狮，却带有一丝女性的温柔气质，这说明他有一颗多愁善感的心。

40
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“我和我老婆就是这么结婚的。”贝尔登讲述完他那段激动人心的求偶过程，最后说道，“回到她家，她说道，‘爸爸，我们回来了。’‘老天会惩罚你的。’她父亲骂了她一句，然后转过身对我说，‘吉姆，把你那身漂亮衣服脱下来，快给我犁地去，吃饭前争取把那四十英亩地耕出来。’吩咐完我，他又对她说，‘还有你，萨尔，你给他们做饭去。’随后，他哼了声鼻子，吻了她一下。当时，就别提我有多高兴了。他见我仍没有下地去，就吼了起来，‘快去呀，吉姆！’我就连忙跑到谷仓里去啦。”

41
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“你回美国，是有孩子在这儿等着你？”陌生客问道。

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“没有。萨尔在有孩子之前就死了。也正是因为如此，我才来的。”说到这里，贝尔登神情恍惚地给烟斗点火，其实烟斗本来就没有熄灭。随后，他又高兴地问道：“你呢，陌生人，成家了吗？”

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陌生客没吱声，默默地打开了怀表盖，将怀表从用作表链的皮带上摘下，递了过来。贝尔登挑亮那盏昏暗的油灯，细细看了看表匣里面，啧啧赞叹了几声，然后把怀表递给了路易斯·萨沃伊。后者看了，连呼了几声“我的天”，随即便转给了普林斯。只见普林斯双手发抖，眼睛里平添出几分温柔的神色。就这样，怀表在一双双粗硬的大手间传看着——里面镶着一张女人的照片，是这些男人酷爱的那种小鸟依人的女人，怀中还抱着一个婴儿。没有看到这“奇观”的人们顿起好奇之心，而看过的则沉默了下来，沉湎于对往事的回忆之中。这些汉子不怕面对饥饿的煎熬、疾病的折磨，也不怕暴死在荒野上和洪水里，可是这个陌生女子同孩子的照片却触动了他们的柔情，把他们变成了软弱的女人和孩子。

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“还没见过小家伙呢——听她说是个男孩，已经两岁了。”陌生客收回他的宝贝怀表时说。他又恋恋不舍地多看了几眼那照片，才啪的一声合上了表盖，转过了脸去，然而却难掩眼中克制已久、夺眶而出的泪水。

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马拉摩特·基德把他带到一张床前，要他睡下。

46
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“四点整叫醒我。别误了我。”他说完这话，没一会儿，就疲倦地睡了过去，鼾声阵阵。

47
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“天哪！真是条好汉，”普林斯说道，“赶狗跑了七十五英里，再睡三个小时，又上路。他是谁，基德？”

48
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“他叫杰克·韦斯顿戴尔，来这儿混已有三年了，除了像牛马一样干活的名声之外，什么也没有捞到，运气要多坏有多坏。我以前并不了解他，后来是听希特卡·查理讲了他的事情。”

49
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“真是不容易啊，把可爱的娇妻抛在家中，一个人在这个荒凉之地苦熬岁月，这鬼地方一年抵外面两年。”

50
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“他的毛病在于太顽固，犟得像头牛。他两次下赌场，赢了不少钱，后来又都叫他输了个精光。”

51
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这时，贝特尔斯一阵高歌打断了他们的谈话，照片所产生的效应也随之消失了。在觥筹交错的狂欢之中，大家很快就将常年吃猪狗食、干牛马活的艰难处境抛之脑后。唯独基德一人看起来心神不定，一次次焦虑地看表。后来，他戴上手套和海狸皮帽子跑到屋外，进了贮藏室，在那儿窸窸窣窣地忙碌起来。

52
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他实在等不下去了，没有按指定的时间叫醒那位陌生客，而是提前了一刻钟。那个年轻的大个子浑身僵硬，给他使劲揉搓一通后才站立起来。他吃力地蹒跚着走出木屋，发现他的狗已套上了雪橇，一切都已准备妥当，只等他启程上路了。大家祝他好运，愿他尽快追上歹徒。鲁博神父匆匆为他祝福后，便急忙回到了木屋里，众人紧随其后。这也难怪，在零下七十四度的严寒中待久了，裸露在外的耳朵和手会被冻坏的。

53
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马拉摩特·基德送他上了大路，诚挚地握住他的手，叮嘱了他几句。

54
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“你在雪橇上会找到一百磅鲑鱼子，”基德说，“路上当狗粮，顶得上一百五十磅鱼。你也许指望在佩利能买到狗粮，其实是买不到的。”陌生客颇觉意外，眼睛里闪过一道光，但没有吱声。“在到五指河的路上，你连一口狗食和人粮也搞不到。中间有两百英里的路呢，非常难走。千万要当心三十英里河上没有结冰的地方，一定得抄近路，走巴尔杰湖上那条捷径。”

55
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“这事你是怎么知道的？消息总不能比我来得还快吧？”

56
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“我什么也不知道，而且，我也不想知道。不过，你追寻的那群狗根本不是你的，而是去年春天希特卡·查理卖给他们的。然而，希特卡·查理提到过你，说你是个正派人，他的话我相信。我观察了你的面相，我喜欢你的这张脸。我看得出——算了，该死的，你还是快点赶路吧，到海的那边去，回到你老婆身边吧。这里有……”说到此处，基德一把摘下手套，将钱袋掏了出来。

57
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“不，我用不着。”陌生客颤抖着紧握住基德的手，滚滚的泪珠在他脸上结成了冰。

58
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“路上别心疼狗，累倒一条就解下来，买新的替换上，每一磅也就值十美元嘛。在五指河、小鲑鱼河以及胡塔林卡都可以买得到的。小心别把脚弄湿，免得冻坏。”基德临分手时谆谆叮嘱，“行驶速度保持在一小时二十五英里以上。如果低于这个数，你就生一堆火，换换袜子，休息一下。”

59
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陌生客走了可能还不到一刻钟，便传来了雪橇铃铛的叮当声——又有客人来了。门开了，一个西北地区的骑警走了进来，后面跟着两个驭狗的混血儿。这一行人跟韦斯顿戴尔一样，也是全副武装，也是满脸倦容。两个混血儿是惯于行路者，虽疲倦却不以为然。那位年轻的骑警则累得像是浑身散了架。是他那个种族坚忍不拔的精神一路支撑着他，只要他不倒下就不会停止前进的步伐。

60
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“韦斯顿戴尔走了多久了？”他问道，“他在这儿歇过脚，是不是？”这一番问话简直是多余的，根据路上的雪橇印迹便可一目了然。

61
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马拉摩特·基德给贝尔登丢了个眼色，后者会意，便搪塞地回答：“走了好一会儿啦。”

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“听着，伙计，要说实话！”警察告诫道。

63
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“你们好像是要抓他哟。他在道森犯什么事了？”

64
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“他抢了哈利·麦克法兰四万美元，然后去太平洋港湾公司的商店换成了一张在西雅图支付的支票。要是我们不追上他，谁去阻止他兑换呢？他到底是何时离开这里的？”

65
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马拉摩特·基德已向每个人都使过了眼色，所以大家都装得跟没事人一样，年轻的警察对上的是一张张面无表情的脸。

66
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他大步走到普林斯面前，将问题抛给了普林斯。普林斯呆呆地望着这位同胞那张坦率、诚恳的脸，有点痛心，但回答时仍闪烁其词、支支吾吾的。

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这时候，警察一眼瞧见了鲁博神父（他不能撒谎）。神父回答说：“他和他的狗在这儿休息了四个小时，是一刻钟之前离开的。”

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“都走了一刻钟了，而且攒足了劲！上帝呀！”可怜的警察又累又失望，几近昏倒，踉跄着朝后退了几步，嘴里唠唠叨叨地说自己从道森赶过来，一口气跑了十个小时，拉雪橇的狗都累趴下了。

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马拉摩特·基德递给他一缸子鸡尾酒叫他提提神。他一饮而尽，然后转身向门口走去，命令那两个驭狗人跟他一起上路。但屋里暖意融融，加上对于休息的渴盼太过强烈，于是二人费力地抗议着。基德是熟悉法语方言的，他不安地仔细听着。

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驭狗人说狗已经累垮了，跑不了一英里地就得射杀西瓦施和巴贝特，其他狗也强不了多少，最好让人和狗都休息休息。

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“能借我五条狗吗？”他转向马拉摩特·基德问道。

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基德摇了一下头。

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“我可以用康士坦丁上尉的名义给你开一张五千美元的支票——这是我的授权书——我得到了授权，可以酌情开支票的。”

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基德再次无声地拒绝了。

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“那我就要以女王的名义征用了。”

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基德不相信他敢动真格的，便只是笑了笑，朝自己那装满长枪短枪的武器架瞅了一眼。那个英国人明白自己寡不敌众、无力回天，就扭转身，向门口走去。而两个驭狗人仍反对立刻动身。他气得冲到他们跟前，骂他们是娘儿们，是杂种。那个年纪比较大的混血儿站起来的时候，一张黝黑的脸被气得通红，咬牙切齿地回敬了几句狠话，抱怨他非得让领队的狗累断腿，最后葬身于雪原才肯罢休。

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年轻的警察——聚集起全身的力气——迈着坚定的步子向门口走去，尽管他已疲惫不堪，却强装出精神抖擞的样子。人人都了解实际情况，不由对他那种不认输的韧劲肃然起敬。话虽如此，他却难掩从脸上掠过的一阵痛苦的表情。那些狗身上结满了冰霜，蜷缩着卧在雪里，它们已经无法站立了。驭狗人憋了一肚子气，残酷无情地用鞭子狠狠抽打它们，打得那些可怜的狗儿呜呜呜地哀号。后来，他们割断套索，把领队的狗巴贝特拖了出来，其他的狗才拉动雪橇，启程上路了。

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“流氓、无赖、骗子！”“他妈的！真不是个东西！”“这个强盗！”“印第安人都不如！”屋里的人对那个陌生客骂不绝口，一个个义愤填膺——一是因为他们觉得自己受到了欺骗，二是由于他们认为北方的行为准则遭到了破坏（根据这一准则，诚实是至高无上的，最应该受到珍视）。“明明知道那小子行迹诡异，却还要帮他。”众人抱怨着，一齐将谴责的目光投向了马拉摩特·基德。正在屋角处照料巴贝特的基德见状便从那儿站了起来，把最后一点酒给大家斟上，要请大家饮完这最后一巡酒。

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“今天晚上真冷呀，伙计们——冷到骨头缝里了。”他开始为自己辩解，但这一开场白显得牛头不对马嘴，“大家都是在风雪路上跋涉过的，其中滋味谁都清楚。一个人落难的时候，最怕的就是墙倒众人推。这件事，诸位只知其一不知其二。江湖上的人同吃一锅饭，睡觉时合盖一条毯子，这里边恐怕数杰克做得最好了。去年秋天，他把积攒下的四万美元交给乔·卡斯特尔，让卡斯特尔到加拿大边境跟前的自治领地购买采矿权。他原本是可以成为百万富翁的，可他却留在了圈城照料自己的一个患坏血病的朋友。你们猜猜卡斯特尔做了些什么！他跑到麦克法兰的赌场里，把赌注加到最大限额，一下子把钱全输光了。第二天有人发现他死在了雪地里。可怜的杰克本来打算今年冬天回家看望老婆和没见过面的孩子。要知道，他没有多拿，只拿走了卡斯特尔输掉的——那四万美元。事已至此，你们说说该怎么办呢？”

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基德扫视了一眼围成一圈的“道德法官们”，见大家紧绷着的脸趋于缓和，便高举起酒杯说：“祝今夜赶路的人身强体健；愿他带有足够的干粮；愿拉雪橇的狗能坚持到底；愿他的火柴不湿，能点得亮篝火。愿上帝保佑他一路顺利，祝他好运气，愿他……”

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“愿那个骑警迷路！”贝特尔斯举起空酒杯，跟大伙儿碰杯，嘴里大声叫道。

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(3) 阿尔萨斯-洛林（Alsace-Lorraine）：法国东部地区，普法战争后法国于1871年割让给德国。1919年第一次世界大战后，这块土地归还法国。第二次世界大战期间，被德国占领，后又归还法国。

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“Dump it in．”

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“But I say，Kid，isn’t that going it a little too strong？Whiskey and alcohol’s bad enough；but when it comes to brandy and pepper sauce and—”

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“Dump it in． Who’s making this punch，anyway？”And Malemute Kid smiled benignantly through the clouds of steam． “By the time you’ve been in this country as long as I have，my son，and lived on rabbit tracks and salmon belly，you’ll learn that Christmas comes only once per annum． And a Christmas without punch is sinking a hole to bedrock with nary a pay streak．”

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“Stack up on that fer a high cyard，”approved Big Jim Belden，who had come down from his claim on Mazy May to spend Christmas，and who，as everyone knew，had been living the two months past on straight moose meat． “Hain’t fergot the hooch we-uns made on the Tanana，hev yeh？”

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“Well，I guess yes．Boys，it would have done your hearts good to see that whole tribe fighting drunk—and all because of a glorious ferment of sugar and sour dough．That was before your time，”Malemute Kid said as he turned to Stanley Prince，a young mining expert who had been in two years．“No white women in the country then，and Mason wanted to get married．Ruth’s father was chief of the Tananas，and objected，like the rest of the tribe．Stiff？Why，I used my last pound of sugar；finest work in that line I ever did in my life．You should have seen the chase，down the river and across the portage．”

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“But the squaw？”asked Louis Savoy，the tall French Canadian，becoming interested；for he had heard of this wild deed，when at Forty Mile the preceding winter．

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Then Malemute Kid，who was a born raconteur，told the unvarnished tale of the Northland Lochinvar．More than one rough adventurer of the North felt his heartstrings draw closer，and experienced vague yearnings for the sunnier pastures of the Southland，where life promised something more than a barren struggle with cold and death．

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“We struck the Yukon just behind the first ice run，”he concluded，“and the tribe only a quarter of an hour behind．But that saved us；for the second run broke the jam above and shut them out．When they finally got into Nuklukayet，the whole Post was ready for them．And as to the forgathering，ask Father Roubeau here：he performed the ceremony．”

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The Jesuit took the pipe from his lips，but could only express his gratification with patriarchal smiles，while Protestant and Catholic vigorously applauded．

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“By gar！”ejaculated Louis Savoy，who seemed overcome by the romance of it．“La petite squaw；mon Mason brav．By gar！”

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Then，as the first tin cups of punch went round，Bettles the Unquenchable sprang to his feet and struck up his favorite drinking song：—

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There’s Henry Ward Beecher

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And Sunday-school teachers，

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All drink of the sassafras root；

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But you bet all the same，

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If it had its right name，

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It’s the juice of the forbidden fruit．

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Oh the juice of the forbidden fruit，

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roared out the Bacchanalian chorus，

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Oh the juice of the forbidden fruit：

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But you bet all the same，

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If it had its right name，

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It’s the juice of the forbidden fruit．

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Malemute Kid’s frightful concoction did its work；the men of the camps and trails unbent in its genial glow，and jest and song and tales of past adventure went round the board．Aliens from a dozen lands，they toasted each and all．It was the Englishman，Prince，who pledged “Uncle Sam，the precocious infant of the New World；”the Yankee，Bettles，who drank to “The Queen，God bless her；”and together，Savoy and Meyers，the German trader，clanged their cups to Alsace and Lorraine．

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Then Malemute Kid arose，cup in hand，and glanced at the greased-paper window，where the frost stood full three inches thick．“A health to the man on trail this night；may his grub hold out；may his dogs keep their legs；may his matches never miss fire．”

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Crack！Crack！—they heard the familiar music of the dogwhip，the whining howl of the Malemutes，and the crunch of a sled as it drew up to the cabin．Conversation languished while they waited the issue．

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“An old-timer；cares for his dogs and then himself，”whispered Malemute Kid to Prince，as they listened to the snapping jaws and the wolfish snarls and yelps of pain which proclaimed to their practiced ears that the stranger was beating back their dogs while he fed his own．

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Then came the expected knock，sharp and confident，and the stranger entered．Dazzled by the light，he hesitated a moment at the door，giving to all a chance for scrutiny．He was a striking personage，and a most picturesque one，in his Arctic dress of wool and fur．Standing six foot two or three，with proportionate breadth of shoulders and depth of chest，his smooth-shaven face nipped by the cold to a gleaming pink，his long lashes and eyebrows white with ice，and the ear and neck ☆aps of his great wolfskin cap loosely raised，he seemed，of a verity，the Frost King，just stepped in out of the night．Clasped outside his mackinaw jacket，a beaded belt held two large Colt’s revolvers and a hunting-knife，while he carried，in addition to the inevitable dogwhip，a smokeless ri☆e of the largest bore and latest pattern．As he came forward，for all his step was firm and elastic，they could see that fatigue bore heavily upon him．

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An awkward silence had fallen，but his hearty “What cheer，my lads？”put them quickly at ease，and the next instant Malemute Kid and he had gripped hands．Though they had never met，each had heard of the other，and the recognition was mutual．A sweeping introduction and a mug of punch were forced upon him before he could explain his errand．

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“How long since that basket-sled，with three men and eight dogs，passed？”he asked．

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“An even two days ahead．Are you after them？”

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“Yes；my team．Run them off under my very nose，the cusses．I’ve gained two days on them already，—pick them up on the next run．”

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“Reckon they’ll show spunk？”asked Belden，in order to keep up the conversation，for Malemute Kid already had the coffee-pot on and was busily frying bacon and moose-meat．

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The stranger significantly tapped his revolvers．

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“When’d yeh leave Dawson？”

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“Twelve o’clock．”

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“Last night？”—as a matter of course．

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“To-day．”

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A murmur of surprise passed round the circle．And well it might；for it was just midnight，and seventy-five miles of rough river trail was not to be sneered at for a twelve hours’ run．

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The talk soon became impersonal，however，harking back to the trails of childhood．As the young stranger ate of the rude fare，Malemute Kid attentively studied his face．Nor was he long in deciding that it was fair，honest，and open，and that he liked it．Still youthful，the lines had been firmly traced by toil and hardship．Though genial in conversation，and mild when at rest，the blue eyes gave promise of the hard steel-glitter which comes when called into action，especially against odds．The heavy jaw and square-cut chin demonstrated rugged pertinacity and indomitability．Nor，though the attributes of the lion were there，was there wanting the certain softness，the hint of womanliness，which bespoke the emotional nature．

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“So thet’s how me an’ the ol’ woman got spliced，”said Belden，concluding the exciting tale of his courtship．“‘Here we be，Dad，’ sez she．‘An’may yeh be damned，’ sez he to her，an’ then to me，‘Jim，yeh—yeh git outen them good duds o’yourn；I want a right peart slice o’thet forty acre ploughed ’fore dinner．’ An’then he turns on her an’sez，‘An’yeh，Sal；yeh sail inter them dishes．’ An’then he sort o’sniffled an’kissed her．An’I was thet happy，—but he seen me an’roars out，‘Yeh，Jim！’ An’yeh bet I dusted fer the barn．”

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“Any kids waiting for you back in the States？”asked the stranger．

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“Nope；Sal died ’fore any come．Thet’s why I’m here．”Belden abstractedly began to light his pipe，which had failed to go out，and then brightened up with，“How ’bout yerself，stranger，—married man？”

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For reply，he opened his watch，slipped it from the thong which served for a chain，and passed it over．Belden picked up the slush-lamp，surveyed the inside of the case critically，and swearing admiringly to himself，handed it over to Louis Savoy．With numerous “By gars！”he finally surrendered it to Prince，and they noticed that his hands trembled and his eyes took on a peculiar softness．And so it passed from horny hand to horny hand—the pasted photograph of a woman，the clinging kind that such men fancy，with a babe at the breast．Those who had not yet seen the wonder were keen with curiosity；those who had，became silent and retrospective．They could face the pinch of famine，the grip of scurvy，or the quick death by field or flood；but the pictured semblance of a stranger woman and child made women and children of them all．

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“Never have seen the youngster yet，—he’s a boy，she says，and two years old，”said the stranger as he received the treasure back．A lingering moment he gazed upon it，then snapped the case and turned away，but not quick enough to hide the restrained rush of tears．

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Malemute Kid led him to a bunk and bade him turn in．

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“Call me at four sharp．Don’t fail me，”were his last words，and a moment later he was breathing in the heaviness of exhausted sleep．

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“By Jove！He’s a plucky chap，”commented Prince．“Three hours’ sleep after seventy-five miles with the dogs，and then the trail again．Who is he，Kid？”

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“Jack Westondale．Been in going on three years，with nothing but the name of working like a horse，and any amount of bad luck to his credit．I never knew him，but Sitka Charley told me about him．”

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“It seems hard that a man with a sweet young wife like his should be putting in his years in this God-forsaken hole，where every year counts two on the outside．”

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“The trouble with him is clean grit and stubbornness．He’s cleaned up twice with a stake，but lost it both times．”

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Here the conversation was broken off by an uproar from Bettles，for the effect had begun to wear away．And soon the bleak years of monotonous grub and deadening toil were being forgotten in rough merriment．Malemute Kid alone seemed unable to lose himself，and cast many an anxious look at his watch．Once he put on his mittens and beaver-skin cap，and leaving the cabin，fell to rummaging about in the cache．

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Nor could he wait the hour designated；for he was fifteen minutes ahead of time in rousing his guest．The young giant had stiffened badly，and brisk rubbing was necessary to bring him to his feet．He tottered painfully out of the cabin，to find his dogs harnessed and everything ready for the start．The company wished him good luck and a short chase，while Father Roubeau，hurriedly blessing him，led the stampede for the cabin；and small wonder，for it is not good to face seventy-four degrees below zero with naked ears and hands．

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Malemute Kid saw him to the main trail，and there，gripping his hand heartily，gave him advice．

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“You’ll find a hundred pounds of salmon-eggs on the sled，”he said．“The dogs will go as far on that as with one hundred and fifty of fish，and you can’t get dog food at Pelly，as you probably expected．”The stranger started，and his eyes flashed，but he did not interrupt．“You can’t get an ounce of food for dog or man till you reach Five Fingers，and that’s a stiff two hundred miles．Watch out for open water on the Thirty Mile River，and be sure you take the big cut-off above Laberge．”

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“How did you know it？Surely the news can’t be ahead of me already？”

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“I don’t know it；and what’s more，I don’t want to know it．But you never owned that team you’re chasing．Sitka Charley sold it to them last spring．But he sized you up to me as square once，and I believe him．I’ve seen your face；I like it．And I’ve seen—why，damn you，hit the high places for salt water and that wife of yours，and—”Here the Kid unmittened and jerked out his sack．

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“No；I don’t need it，”and the tears froze on his cheeks as he convulsively gripped Malemute Kid’s hand．

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“Then don’t spare the dogs；cut them out of the traces as fast as they drop；buy them，and think they’re cheap at ten dollars a pound．You can get them at Five Fingers，Little Salmon，and the Hootalinqua．And watch out for wet feet，”was his parting advice．“Keep a-traveling up to twenty-five，but if it gets below that，build a fire and change your socks．”

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Fifteen minutes had barely elapsed when the jingle of bells announced new arrivals．The door opened，and a mounted policeman of the Northwest Territory entered，followed by two half-breed dog-drivers．Like Westondale，they were heavily armed and showed signs of fatigue．The half-breeds had been born to the trail，and bore it easily；but the young policeman was badly exhausted．Still，the dogged obstinacy of his race held him to the pace he had set，and would hold him till he dropped in his tracks．

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“When did Westondale pull out？”he asked．“He stopped here，didn’t he？”This was supererogatory，for the tracks told their own tale too well．

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Malemute Kid had caught Belden’s eye，and he，scenting the wind，replied evasively，“A right peart while back．”

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“Come，my man；speak up，”the policeman admonished．

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“Yeh seem to want him right smart．Hez he ben gittin’ cantankerous down Dawson way？”

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“Held up Harry McFarland’s for forty thousand；exchanged it at the P．C．store for a check on Seattle；and who’s to stop the cashing of it if we don’t overtake him？When did he pull out？”

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Every eye suppressed its excitement，for Malemute Kid had given the cue，and the young officer encountered wooden faces on every hand．

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Striding over to Prince，he put the question to him．Though it hurt him，gazing into the frank，earnest face of his fellow countryman，he replied inconsequentially on the state of the trail．

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Then he espied Father Roubeau，who could not lie．“A quarter of an hour ago，”the priest answered；“but he had four hours’ rest for himself and dogs．”

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“Fifteen minutes’ start，and he’s fresh！My God！”The poor fellow staggered back，half fainting from exhaustion and disappointment，murmuring something about the run from Dawson in ten hours and the dogs being played out．

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Malemute Kid forced a mug of punch upon him；then he turned for the door，ordering the dog-drivers to follow．But the warmth and promise of rest were too tempting，and they objected strenuously．The Kid was conversant with their French patois，and followed it anxiously．

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They swore that the dogs were gone up；that Siwash and Babette would have to be shot before the first mile was covered；that the rest were almost as bad；and that it would be better for all hands to rest up．

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“Lend me five dogs？”he asked，turning to Malemute Kid．

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But the Kid shook his head．

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“I’ll sign a check on Captain Constantine for five thousand，—here’s my papers，—I’m authorized to draw at my own discretion．”

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Again the silent refusal．

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“Then I’ll requisition them in the name of the Queen．”

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Smiling incredulously，the Kid glanced at his well-stocked arsenal，and the Englishman，realizing his impotency，turned for the door．But the dog-drivers still objecting，he whirled upon them fiercely，calling them women and curs．The swart face of the older half-breed flushed angrily，as he drew himself up and promised in good，round terms that he would travel his leader off his legs，and would then be delighted to plant him in the snow．

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The young officer—and it required his whole will—walked steadily to the door，exhibiting a freshness he did not possess．But they all knew and appreciated his proud effort；nor could he veil the twinges of agony that shot across his face．Covered with frost，the dogs were curled up in the snow，and it was almost impossible to get them to their feet．The poor brutes whined under the stinging lash，for the dog-drivers were angry and cruel；not till Babette，the leader，was cut from the traces，could they break out the sled and get under way．

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“A dirty scoundrel and a liar！”“By gar！him no good！”“A thief！”“Worse than an Indian！”It was evident that they were angry—first，at the way they had been deceived；and second，at the outraged ethics of the Northland，where honesty，above all，was man’s prime jewel．“An’we gave the cuss a hand，after knowin’ what he’d did．”All eyes were turned accusingly upon Malemute Kid，who rose from the corner where he had been making Babette comfortable，and silently emptied the bowl for a final round of punch．

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“It’s a cold night，boys，—a bitter cold night，”was the irrelevant commencement of his defense．“You’ve all traveled trail，and know what that stands for．Don’t jump a dog when he’s down．You’ve only heard one side．A whiter man than Jack Westondale never ate from the same pot nor stretched blanket with you or me．Last fall he gave his whole clean-up，forty thousand，to Joe Castrell，to buy in on Dominion．To-day he’d be a millionaire．But while he stayed behind at Circle City，taking care of his partner with the scurvy，what does Castrell do？Goes into McFarland’s，jumps the limit，and drops the whole sack．Found him dead in the snow the next day．And poor Jack laying his plans to go out this winter to his wife and the boy he’s never seen．You’ll notice he took exactly what his partner lost，—forty thousand．Well，he’s gone out；and what are you going to do about it？”

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The Kid glanced round the circle of his judges，noted the softening of their faces，then raised his mug aloft．“So a health to the man on trail this night；may his grub hold out；may his dogs keep their legs；may his matches never miss fire．God prosper him；good luck go with him；and—”

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“Confusion to the Mounted Police！”cried Bettles，to the crash of the empty cups．

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序号 英文/音标 中文解释 更多操作

brandy

[’brændi]

n.白兰地酒

benignant

[bɪ’nɪɡnənt]

adj.仁慈的;和蔼的;有益的

past

[pɑːst]

a. 过去的;

dough

[dəʊ]

n.生面团;钱

felted

[’feltɪd]

v. 把 ... 制成毡(使 ... 粘结)

pasture

[’pɑːstʃə(r)]

n.牧场;草原

barren

[’bærən]

adj.贫瘠的;无效的;不育的

Protestant

[’prɒtɪstənt]

n.抗议者

applaud

[ə’plɔːd]

vi.拍手喝彩

Unquenchable

[ʌn’kwentʃəbl]

adj.无法消除的;不能遏制的;不可战胜的

Ward

[wɔːd]

n.病房;行政区;监护;守卫;受监护人

sassafras

[’sæsəfræs]

n.黄樟(檫树)

roar

[rɔː(r)]

v.吼叫;咆哮

chorus

[’kɔːrəs]

n.合唱队;歌舞队;齐声说道;副歌部分

frightful

[’fraɪtfl]

adj.可怕的;吓人的

camped

[kæmp]

露宿的

unbend

[ˌʌn’bend]

v.伸直;解开;放松

trader

[’treɪdə(r)]

n.商人;商船

clang

[klæŋ]

v.(使)发出铿锵声;鹤鸣声

frost

[frɒst]

n.霜;霜冻;严寒

whine

[waɪn]

n.闹声;抱怨;牢骚

Conversation

[ˌkɒnvə’seɪʃn]

n.谈话;会话

languish

[’læŋɡwɪʃ]

v.衰弱无力;失去活力;受苦;憔悴

dazzle

[’dæzl]

v.使眼花;使赞许

scrutiny

[’skruːtəni]

n.监视;细看;周密的调查

Arctic

[’ɑːktɪk]

adj.北极的;极寒的

wool

[wʊl]

n.羊毛;绒线

Nip

[nɪp]

vt. 夹；钳；掐；捏;

gleam

[ɡliːm]

v.闪烁;隐约地闪现

lash

[læʃ]

n.鞭子;鞭打;睫毛;讽刺

Frost

[frɒst]

n.霜;霜冻;严寒

clasp

[klɑːsp]

n.扣子;钩;紧握;握手

bead

[biːd]

n.珠子

revolver

[rɪ’vɒlvə(r)]

n.左轮手枪

latest

[’leɪtɪst]

adj.最近的;最新的

elastic

[ɪ’læstɪk]

adj.灵活的;有弹性的

hearty

[’hɑːti]

adj.亲切友好的;衷心的;热烈的;丰盛的;健壮的(尤指老人)

lad

[læd]

n.少年;小伙子;伙伴

pick

[pɪkt]

采摘，挑选；

conversation

[ˌkɒnvə’seɪʃn]

n.谈话;会话

fry

[fraɪ]

v.油煎;油炸

bacon

[’beɪkən]

n.培根;咸肉;熏肉

murmur

[’mɜːmə(r)]

n. 低沉连续的声音(如风的沙沙声、流水的淙淙声等);

sneer

[snɪə(r)]

n.冷笑;嘲笑

impersonal

[ɪm’pɜːsənl]

adj.不受个人感情影响的;冷淡的;没有人情味的;非特指某一人的;客观的

hark

[hɑːk]

v.听;回想;重提;和(过去的事物)相似

rude

[ruːd]

adj.粗鲁无礼的;原始的;未加工的;粗糙的;猛烈的

attentive

[ə’tentɪv]

adj.注意的;留意的

rugged

[’rʌɡɪd]

a. 不平的；崎岖的；有皱纹的;

excite

[ɪk’saɪt]

vt.使兴奋;使激动;刺激;激起

dud

[dʌd]

adj.无价值的

plow

[plau]

n.犁;耕地

inter

[ɪn’tɜː(r)]

vt.埋葬

brighten

[’braɪtn]

v.使变亮;使生辉;发亮;开颜

Gar

[gɑːr]

n.甘氨酰胺核苷酸;n.狗鱼

paste

[peɪst]

n.浆糊

fancy

[’fænsi]

n. 【C】设想；幻想；空想;

famine

[’fæmɪn]

n.饥荒;极度缺乏

youngster

[ˈjʌŋstə]

n.青年 ,少年, 儿童

linger

[’lɪŋɡə(r)]

vi.徘徊;逗留;消磨;漫步

bunk

[bʌŋk]

n.铺位;胡言乱语

heaviness

[’hevinəs]

n.重;重量

chap

[tʃæp]

vt. 使(皮肤)裂口，裂开；变粗糙;

Jack

[dʒæk]

n.杰克(男子名)

grit

[ɡrɪt]

n.砂砾;粗砂石;勇气;决心

stake

[steɪk]

n.桩;赌注;利害关系

casting

[’kɑːstɪŋ]

n.铸造

mitten

[’mɪtn]

n.【C】连指手套

rummage

[’rʌmɪdʒ]

v.到处翻寻;搜出;检查

designate

[’dezɪɡneɪt]

vt.指定;标明;把...定名为;选派

rouse

[raʊz]

v.唤醒;激起

stiffen

[’stɪfn]

v.使 ... 坚硬;变为浓粘;使坚定;使强硬

brisk

[brɪsk]

adj.敏锐的;活泼的;活跃的;轻快的;凛冽的

heartily

[’hɑːtɪli]

adv.衷心地;热心地;打心眼里;彻底地

ounce

[aʊns]

n.盎司

jerk

[dʒɜːk]

v.急动;猛拉

convulsive

[kən’vʌlsɪv]

adj.抽搐的;惊厥的;震动的;起痉挛的

elapse

[ɪ’læps]

v.逝去;过去

supererogatory

[ˌsuːpərə’rɒgətərɪ]

adj.职责以外的;多余的

evasive

[ɪ’veɪsɪv]

adj.逃避的;难以捉摸的;闪烁其词的

admonish

[əd’mɒnɪʃ]

vt.警告;训诫;告诫;提醒;敦促

Harry

[’hæri]

vt.不断骚扰;打扰;侵扰;侵掠

Seattle

[sɪ’ætl]

n.西雅图

overtake

[ˌəʊvə’teɪk]

v.赶上;突然来袭;压倒

malamute

[’mɑːləmjuːt]

n.爱斯基摩狗

frank

[fræŋk]

a. 坦白；率直;

espy

[e’spaɪ]

v.(从远处等)突然看到;窥见

stagger

[’stæɡə(r)]

vi.蹒跚;犹豫;动摇

exhaustion

[ɪɡ’zɔːstʃən]

n.疲惫;筋疲力尽;竭尽

strenuous

[’strenjuəs]

adj.奋发的;费力的;繁重的;积极的

shook

[ʃʊk]

n.(装配木桶或箱;盒等的)一套现成板料

discretion

[dɪ’skreʃn]

n.谨慎;慎重;自行决定

refusal

[rɪ’fjuːzl]

n.拒绝;回绝

requisition

[ˌrekwɪ’zɪʃn]

n.请求;征用

incredulous

[ɪn’kredjələs]

adj.怀疑的;不轻信的

arsenal

[’ɑːsənl]

n.兵工厂;军械库;储藏

impotence

[’ɪmpətəns]

n.无能;【医】阳萎

whirl

[wɜːl]

vt. 使旋转;

cur

[kɜː(r)]

n.恶犬(尤指杂种狗);卑鄙小人;胆小鬼

angrily

[’æŋɡrəli]

adv.气愤地

freshness

[freʃnəs]

n.新鲜;精神饱满

veil

[veɪl]

n.面纱;面罩;掩饰物

twinge

[twɪndʒ]

n.(生理;心理上的)剧痛;刺痛

agony

[’æɡəni]

n.极度的痛苦;挣扎

curl

[kɜːl]

n.卷曲;卷发;年轮;漩涡;【足】曲线球

brute

[bruːt]

n.畜生;残忍的人

outrage

[’aʊtreɪdʒ]

n.暴行;愤怒;义愤

ethic

[’eθɪk]

n.伦理;道德规范

jewel

[’dʒuːəl]

n.宝石;受珍视的人或物

irrelevant

[ɪ’reləvənt]

adj.不恰当的;无关系的;不相干的

commencement

[kə’mensmənt]

n.开始;毕业典礼

stretchable

[stretʃəbl]

可伸展的;可延伸的

prosper

[’prɒspə(r)]

vi.繁盛;成功;兴旺

Mounted

[’maʊntɪd]

adj.安装好的

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