《野性的呼唤》---《The Call of the Wild》(中英对照)完_派派后花园

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[Novel] 《野性的呼唤》---《The Call of the Wild》(中英对照)完

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CHAPTER 1

INTO THE PRIMITIVE


Old longings nomadic leap,
Chafing at custom's chain;
Again from its brumal sleep
Wakens the ferine strain.

Buck did not read the newspapers, or he would have known that trouble was brewing, not alone for himself, but for every tidewater dog, strong of muscle and with warm, long hair, from Puget Sound to San Diego. Because men, groping in the Arctic darkness, had found a yellow metal, and because steamship and transportation companies were booming the find, thousands of men were rushing into the Northland. These men wanted dogs, and the dogs they wanted were heavy dogs, with strong muscles by which to toil, and furry coats to protect them from the frost.
Buck lived at a big house in the sun-kissed Santa Clara Valley. Judge Miller's place, it was called. It stood back from the road, half-hidden among the trees, through which glimpses could be caught of the wide cool veranda that ran around its four sides. The house was approached by graveled driveways which wound about through wide-spreading lawns and under the interlacing boughs of tall poplars. At the rear things were on even a more spacious scale than at the front. There were great stables, where a dozen grooms and boys held forth, rows of vine-clad servants' cottages, an endless and orderly array of outhouses, long grape arbors, green pastures, orchards, and berry patches. Then there was the pumping plant for the artesian well, and the big cement tank where Judge Miler's boys took their morning plunge and kept cool in the hot afternoon.
And over this great demesne Buck ruled. Here he was born, and here he had lived the four years of his life. It was true, there were other dogs. There could not but be other dogs on so vast a place, but they did not count. They came and went, resided in the populous kennels, or lived obscurely in the recesses of the house after the fashion of Toots, the Japanese pug, or Ysabel, the Mexican hairless, strange creatures that rarely put nose out of doors or set foot to ground. On the other hand, there were the fox terriers, a score of them at least, who yelped fearful promises at Toots and Ysabel looking out of the windows at them and protected by a legion of housemaids armed with brooms and mops.
But Buck was neither house dog nor kennel dog. The whole realm was his. He plunged into the swimming tank or went hunting with the Judge's sons; he escorted Mollie and Alice, the Judge's daughters, on long twilight or early morning rambles; on wintry nights he lay at the Judge's feet before the roaring library fire; he carried the Judge's grandsons on his back, or rolled them in the grass, and guarded their footsteps through wild adventures down to the fountain in the stable yard, and even beyond, where the paddocks were, and the berry patches. Among the terriers he stalked imperiously, and Toots and Ysabel he utterly ignored, for he was king--king over all creeping, crawling, flying things of Judge Miller's place, humans included.
His father, Elmo, a huge St. Bernard, had been the Judge's inseparable companion, and Buck bid fair to follow in the way of his father. He was not so large--he weighed only one hundred and forty pounds--for his mother, She, had been a Scotch shepherd dog. Nevertheless, one hundred and forty pounds, to which was added the dignity that comes of good living and universal respect, enabled him to carry himself in right royal fashion. During the four years since his puppyhood he had lived the life of a sated aristocrat; he had a fine pride in himself, was even a trifle egotistical, as country gentlemen sometimes become because of their insular situation. But he had saved himself by not becoming a mere pampered house dog. Hunting and kindred outdoor delights had kept down the fat and hardened his muscles; and to him, as to the cold-tubbing races, the love of water had been a tonic and a health preserver.
And this was the manner of dog Buck was in the fall of 1897, when the Klondike strike dragged men from all the world into the frozen North. But Buck did not read the newspapers, and he did not know that Manuel, one of the gardener's helpers, was an undesirable acquaintance. Manuel had one besetting sin. He loved to play Chinese lottery. Also, in his gambling, he had one besetting weakness--faith in a system; and this made his damnation certain. For to play a system requires money, while the wages of a gardener's helper do not lap over the needs of a wife and numerous progeny.
The Judge was at a meeting of the Raisin Growers' Association, and the boys were busy organizing an athletic club, on the memorable night of Manuel's treachery. No one saw him and Buck go off through the orchard on what Buck imagined was merely a stroll. And with the exception of a solitary man, no one saw them arrive at the little flag station known as College Park. This man talked with Manuel, and money chinked between them.
"You might wrap up the goods before you deliver them," the stranger said gruffly, and Manuel doubled a piece of stout rope around Buck's neck under the collar.
"Twist it, and you'll choke him plenty," said Manuel, and the stranger grunted a ready affirmative.
Buck had accepted the rope with quiet dignity. To be sure, it was an unwonted performance but he had learned to trust in men he knew, and to give them credit for a wisdom that outreached his own. But when the ends of the rope were placed in the stranger's hands, he growled menacingly. He had merely intimated his displeasure, in his pride believing that to intimate was to command. But to his surprise the rope tightened around his neck, shutting off his breath. In a quick rage he sprang at the man, who met him halfway, grappled him close by the throat, and with a deft twist threw him over on his back. Then the rope tightened mercilessly, while Buck struggled in a fury, his tongue lolling out of his mouth and his great chest panting futilely. Never in all his life had he been so vilely treated, and never in all his life had he been so angry. But his strength ebbed, his eyes glazed, and he knew nothing when the train was flagged and the two men threw him into the baggage car.
The next he knew, he was dimly aware that his tongue was hurting and that he was being jolted along in some kind of a conveyance. The hoarse shriek of a locomotive whistling a crossing told him where he was. He had traveled too often with the Judge not to know the sensation of riding in a baggage car. He opened his eyes, and into them came the unbridled anger of a kidnaped king. The man sprang for his throat, but Buck was too quick for him. His jaws closed on the hand, nor did they relax till his senses were choked out of him once more.
"Yep, has fits," the man said, hiding his mangled hand from the baggage man, who had been attracted by the sounds of struggle. "I'm taking him up for the boss to 'Frisco. A crack dog doctor there thinks that he can cure him."
Concerning that night's ride, the man spoke most eloquently for himself, in a little shed back of a saloon on the San Francisco water front.
"All I get is fifty for it," he grumbled, "and I wouldn't do it over for a thousand, cold cash."
His hand was wrapped in a bloody handkerchief, and the right trouser leg was ripped from knee to ankle.
"How much did the other mug get?" the saloon-keeper demanded.
"A hundred," was the reply. "Wouldn't take a sou less, so help me."
"That makes a hundred and fifty," the saloon-keeper calculated, "and he's worth it, or I'm a squarehead."
The kidnaper undid the bloody wrappings and looked at his lacerated hand. "If I don't get hydrophobia--"
"It'll be because you was born to hang," laughed the saloon-keeper. "Here, lend me a hand before you pull your freight," he added.
Dazed, suffering intolerable pain from throat and tongue, with the life half throttled out of him, Buck attempted to face his tormentors. But he was thrown down and choked repeatedly, till they succeeded in filing the heavy brass collar from off his neck. Then the rope was removed, and he was flung into a cage-like crate.
There he lay for the remainder of the weary night, nursing his wrath and wounded pride. He could not understand what it all meant. What did they want with him, these strange men? Why were they keeping him pent up in this narrow crate? He did not know why, but he felt oppressed by the vague sense of impending calamity. Several times during the night he sprang to his feet when the shed door rattled open, expecting to see the Judge, or the boys at least. But each time it was the bulging face of the saloon-keeper that peered in at him by the sickly light of a tallow candle. And each time the joyful bark that trembled in Buck's throat was twisted into a savage growl.
But the saloon-keeper let him alone, and in the morning four men entered and picked up the crate. More tormentors, Buck decided, for they were evil-looking creatures, ragged and unkempt; and he stormed and raged at them through the bars. They only laughed and poked sticks at him, which he promptly assailed with his teeth till he realized that was what they wanted. Whereupon he lay down sullenly and allowed the crate to be lifted into a wagon. Then he, and the crate in which he was imprisoned, began a passage through many hands. Clerks in the express office took charge of him; he was carted about in another wagon; a truck carried him, with an assortment of boxes and parcels, upon a ferry steamer; he was trucked off the steamer into a great railway depot, and finally he was deposited in an express car.
For two days and nights this express car was dragged along at the tail of shrieking locomotives; and for two days and nights Buck neither ate nor drank. In his anger he had met the first advances of the express messengers with growls, and they had retaliated by teasing him. When he flung himself against the bars, quivering and frothing, they laughed at him and taunted him. They growled and barked like detestable dogs, mewed, and flapped their arms and crowed. It was all very silly, he knew; but therefore the more outrage to his dignity, and his anger waxed and waxed. He did not mind the hunger so much, but the lack of water caused him severe suffering and fanned his wrath to fever-pitch. For that matter, high-strung and finely sensitive, the ill treatment had flung him into a fever, which was fed by the inflammation of his parched and swollen throat and tongue.
He was glad for one thing: the rope was off his neck. That had given them an unfair advantage; but now that it was off, he would show them. They would never get another rope around his neck. Upon that he was resolved. For two days and nights he neither ate nor drank, and during those two days and nights of torment, he accumulated a fund of wrath that boded ill for whoever first fell foul of him. His eyes turned bloodshot, and he was metamorphosed into a raging fiend. So changed was he that the Judge himself would not have recognized him; and the express messengers breathed with relief when they bundled him off the train at Seattle.
Four men gingerly carried the crate from the wagon into a small, high-walled back yard. A stout man, with a red sweater that sagged generously at the neck, came out and signed the book for the driver. That was the man, Buck divined, the next tormentor, and he hurled himself savagely against the bars. The man smiled grimly, and brought a hatchet and a club.
"You ain't going to take him out now?" the driver asked.
"Sure," the man replied, driving the hatchet into the crate for a pry.
There was an instantaneous scattering of the four men who had carried it in, and from safe perches on top the wall they prepared to watch the performance.
Buck rushed at the splintering wood, sinking his teeth into it, surging and wrestling with it. Wherever the hatchet fell on the outside, he was there on the inside, snarling and growling, as furiously anxious to get out as the man in the red sweater was calmly intent on getting him out.
"Now, you red-eyed devil," he said, when he had made an opening sufficient for the passage of Buck's body. At the same time he dropped the hatchet and shifted the club to his right hand.
And Buck was truly a red-eyed devil, as he drew himself together for the spring, hair bristling, mouth foaming, a mad glitter in his bloodshot eyes. Straight at the man he launched his one hundred and forty pounds of fury, surcharged with the pent passion of two days and nights. In mid-air, just as his jaws were about to close on the man, he received a shock that checked his body and brought his teeth together with an agonizing clip. He whirled over, fetching the ground on his back and side. He had never been struck by a club in his life, and did not understand. With a snarl that was part bark and more scream he was again on his feet and launched into the air. And again the shock came and he was brought crushingly to the ground. This time he was aware that it was the club, but His madness knew no caution. A dozen times he charged, and as often the club broke the charge and smashed him down.
After a particularly fierce blow he crawled to his feet, too dazed to rush. He staggered limply about, the blood flowing from nose and mouth and ears, his beautiful coat sprayed and flecked with bloody slaver. Then the man advanced and deliberately dealt him a frightful blow on the nose. All the pain he had endured was nothing compared with the exquisite agony of this. With a roar that was almost lion-like in its ferocity, he again hurled himself at the man. But the man, shifting the club from right to left, cooly caught him by the under jaw, at the same time wrenching downward and backward. Buck described a complete circle in the air, and half of another, then crashed to the ground on his head and chest.
For the last time he rushed. The man struck the shrewd blow he had purposely withheld for so long, and Buck crumpled up and went down, knocked utterly senseless.
"He's no slouch at dog-breaking, that's what I say," one of the men on the wall cried with enthusiasm.
"Druther break cayuses any day, and twice on Sundays," was the reply of the driver, as he climbed on the wagon and started the horses.
Buck's senses came back to him, but not his strength. He lay where he had fallen, and from there he watched the man in the red sweater.
" `Answers to the name of Buck,' " the man soliloquized, quoting from the saloon-keeper's letter which had announced the consignment of the crate and contents. "Well, Buck, my boy," he went on in a genial voice, "we've had our little ruction, and the best thing we can do is to let it go at that. You've learned your place, and I know mine. Be a good dog and all will go well and the goose hang high. Be a bad dog, and I'll whale the stuffing outa you. Understand?"
As he spoke he fearlessly patted the head he had so mercilessly pounded, and though Buck's hair involuntarily bristled at touch of the hand, he endured it without protest. When the man brought him water, he drank eagerly, and later bolted a generous meal of raw meat, chuck by chunk, from the man's hand.
He was beaten (he knew that); but he was not broken. He saw, once for all, that he stood no chance against a man with a club. He had learned the lesson, and in all his afterlife he never forgot it. That club was a revelation. It was his introduction to the reign of primitive law, and he met the introduction halfway. The facts of life took on a fiercer aspect; and while he faced that aspect uncowed, he faced it with all the latent cunning of his nature aroused. As the days went by, other dogs came, in crates and at the ends of ropes, some docilely, and some raging and roaring as he had come; and, one and all, he watched them pass under the dominion of the man in the red sweater. Again and again, as he looked at each brutal performance, the lesson was driven home to Buck: a man with a club was a lawgiver, a master to be obeyed, though not necessarily conciliated. Of this last Buck was never guilty, though he did see beaten dogs that fawned upon the man, and wagged their tails, and licked his hand. Also he saw one dog, that would neither conciliate nor obey, finally killed in the struggle for mastery.
Now and again men came, strangers, who talked excitedly, wheedlingly, and in all kinds of fashions to the man in the red sweater. And at such times that money passed between them the strangers took one or more of the dogs away with them. Buck wondered where they went, for they never came back; but the fear of the future was strong upon him, and he was glad each time when he was not selected.
Yet his time came, in the end, in the form of a little weazened man who spat broken English and many strange and uncouth exclamations which Buck could not understand.
"Sacredam!" he cried, when his eyes lit upon Buck. "Dat one dam bully dog! Eh? How much?"
"Three hundred, and a present at that," was the prompt reply of the man in the red sweater. "And seeing it's government money, you ain't got no kick coming, eh, Perrault?"
Perrault grinned. Considering that the price of dogs had been boomed skyward by the unwonted demand, it was not an unfair sum for so fine an animal. The Canadian Government would be no loser, nor would its dispatches travel the slower. Perrault knew dogs, when he looked at Buck he knew that he was one in a thousand--"One in ten thousand," he commented mentally.
Buck saw money pass between them, and was not surprised when Curly, a good-natured Newfoundland, and he were led away by the little weazened man. That was the last he saw of the man in the red sweater, and as Curly and he looked at receding Seattle from the deck of the Narwhal, it was the last he saw of the warm Southland. Curly and he were taken below by Perrault and turned over to a black-faced giant called Francois. Perrault was a French Canadian, and swarthy; but Francois was a French Canadian half-breed, and twice as swarthy. They were a new kind of men to Buck (of which he was destined to see many more), and while he developed no affection for them, he none the less grew honestly to respect them. He speedily learned that Perrault and Francois were fair men, calm and impartial in administering justice, and too wise in the way of dogs to be fooled by dogs.
In the 'tween-decks of the Narwhal, Buck and Curly joined two other dogs. One of them was a big, snow-white fellow from Spitzbergen who had been brought away by a whaling captain, and who had later accompanied a Geological Survey into the Barrens.
He was friendly, in a treacherous sort of way, smiling into one's face the while he meditated some underhand trick, as, for instance, when he stole from Buck's food at the first meal. As Buck sprang to punish him, the lash of Francois's whip sang through the air, reaching the culprit first; and nothing remained to Buck but to recover the bone. That was fair of Francois, he decided, and the half-breed began his rise in Buck's estimation.
The other dog made no advances, nor received any; also, he did not attempt to steal from the newcomers. He was a gloomy, morose fellow, ant he showed Curly plainly that all he desired was to be left alone, and further, that there would be trouble if he were not left alone. "Dave" he was called, and he ate and slept, or yawned between times, and took interest in nothing, not even when the Narwhal crossed Queen Charlotte Sound and rolled and pitched and bucked like a thing possessed. When Buck and Curly grew excited, half-wild with fear, he raised his head as though annoyed, favored them with an incurious glance, yawned, and went to sleep again.
Day and night the ship throbbed to the tireless pulse of the propeller, and though one day was very like another, it was apparent to Buck that the weather was steadily growing colder. At last, one morning, the propeller was quiet, and the Narwhal was pervaded with an atmosphere of excitement. He felt it, as did the other dogs, and knew that a change was at hand. Francois leashed them and brought them on deck. At the first step upon the cold surface, Buck's feet sank into a white mushy something very like mud. He sprang back with a snort. More of this white stuff was falling through the air. He shook himself, but more of it fell upon him. He sniffed it curiously, then licked some up on his tongue. It bit like fire, and the next instant was gone. This puzzled him. He tried it again, with the same results. The onlookers laughed uproariously, and he felt ashamed, he knew not why, for it was his first snow.



第一章 回归原始

    原古的渴望,流动地跳越在习俗的链条上,一阵阵地焦急躁动;在冬天的睡梦中,又醒来了那野性的情愫。
    巴克没有读报,否则它就会知道麻烦事正在向它走来。这麻烦不单单是它自己的,而是所有的从普格特桑德地区到圣迪戈地区,在这些水位受潮汐影响的沿海低洼地区里的狗都会有的麻烦。这些地区里的狗肌肉强键,全身毛发又长又暖。麻烦的形成是因为这个地区里的人们在北极圈的隐密地区一直在探寻,他们已经发现了一种黄色的金属。还因为蒸汽轮船公司和运输公司也正轰鸣着在寻找。而成千上万的人们正在冲进北极圈,这些人需要大量的狗,他们还都要大狗。这些狗要肌肉发达、能干苦役、厚厚的皮毛要能给它们自己防寒。
    巴克住在太阳能亲吻到的桑塔克拉拉山谷的一所大房子里。这房子是一位磨坊主兼法官的。门前有条大道,树荫遮住了房子的一半,透过树荫望里看去,能看到围着房子有一条凉凉的走廊。房子紧靠着砂石铺就的大车道,大车道从纵横交错的白杨树下穿过了宽广的草地。房后的北杨树要比房前的繁茂得多。这里有个巨大的马厩,有十几个马夫和男仆管理着。一排排爬满葡萄树的雇工住屋,无边无际有秩序地排列开来。长长的葡萄林下是绿色的牧场、果园和种干果的小块土地。还有一座自流水井的泵房,泵房前有个很大的水泥槽。磨坊主兼法官的伙计们早上将水管子插到井里,凉水就一直流到下午天热的时候。
这一大片领域都是由巴克统治的。它出生在这里,它在这里已经生活四年了。是的,这里还有别的狗,但是别的狗没有这么大的地盘,它们根本就不能算数。它们只是来来去去地行走着,成群结队地住在狗窝里:它们不是在观看了日本哈巴狗“图茨”的时兴表演后躲在屋子的阴凉处休息休息;就是如墨西哥狗“伊斯拜儿”,(这是只无毛的奇怪的生物)那样,罕见地将鼻子伸出屋外;再不干脆就支起前腿坐在地上。另外还有一些像狐狸似的小型矮腿家犬,加起来至少有二十多只,“图茨”和“伊斯拜儿”只要在窗口上向它们看上一眼,它们就害怕地、许诺似地大叫起来,于是一大群拿着扫帚和拖把的女仆就过来保护它们。
    但是巴克既不是家犬也不是窝里的狗,这整个领域都是它的。它不是一头扎进游泳池里去找法官的儿子们,就是保护着法官的女儿莫丽和艾丽斯在漫长的黄昏中和早早的黎明里散步。在寒冷的冬夜里,它躺在法官的脚下,在熊熊的大火前吼叫,它把法官的孙子们驮在背上在草地上打滚;它护着他们穿过荒芜的旷野走到马厩边的泉水旁,甚至越过泉水来到那一小快一小快的小牧场里,还走到种干果的小快土地里。在那些矮腿狗群中,它专横而骄傲地走着,而对“图茨”和“伊斯拜儿”,它根本就不睬不问。-----因为它是王----它在磨房主兼法官的地盘上统治着一切爬着的和飞着的东西,就连某些人也包括在内。
它的父亲“艾尔莫”是一条巨大的圣伯纳犬,一直是老法官分不开的伙拌。巴克现在正走着它父亲的老路,只是它没有它父亲那么重-----它只有140磅----它母亲是一条苏格兰牧羊犬。140磅的体重是得益于优裕的生活和普遍受尊敬的结果,这使得它浑身上下漾溢着一种王者之气。在它幼犬期的这四年里,它一直都过着一种心满意足的生活,它自我感觉非常高傲。它曾经是一个为琐事而操心的利己主义者,有时就像那些狭隘保守的乡村绅士一样。可是它已经挽救了它自己,不至于变成一条纵容娇惯的家犬。打猎和类似户外的那些嗜好使脂肪积聚了下来,使它的肌肉变得更结实。对它来说,那些冷水浴、那种对水的热爱,一直都是一种使身心愉快的、有益健康的东西。
    这就是巴克1897年的生活方式和精神状态。当时克朗代克人的罢工把全世界的人都吸引到了寒冷的北极。可是巴克没有读报。它不知道曼纽儿要给它做点事儿了。这个曼纽儿是个护院人的助手,一个不怎么对它心思的熟人。他有一个讨厌的毛病,爱玩中国式的赌钱的游戏,但他却又太老实、太守规矩,这就使得他必然要受到各方面的责备。因为要玩赢钱的把戏,一个护院人助手的工资是远远不够的,况且他还有老婆和那么一大群孩子要他养活呢。
那时法官正在葡萄协会里开会,仆人们也忙着在组织一个运动俱乐部。那个曼纽儿,他太不中厚了。就在那个难忘的晚上,没人看见他和巴克穿过了果园,而巴克自己也把这看成是一次散步。没人看见他们到了一个被称做“大学公园”的小旗站,只有一个孤独的男子例外。这个人和曼纽儿谈了几句话,金币在他们中间叮铛做响
    “你可以把这些东西拿走了,在你移交前就行。”那个陌生人粗鲁地说。曼纽儿拿了条粗绳把它绕在巴克衣领下的脖子上。
    “用劲拧,你要把它弄窒息才行。”曼纽儿说,于是陌生人就哼哼地准备下手。巴克十分威严地接受了绳子。确定无疑的是,这是一个不怎么习惯的动作。但它已经习惯了要信任它所认识的人,它对他们的信任超出了对它自己的信任。可是当绳子的两端捏在陌生人手里的时候,它就有点恐怖地叫了起来。它只是暗示了它的不愉快,在它骄傲的对人的信任中,这种暗示就是一种命令。可是使它奇怪的是,这条绳子紧紧地绕在它的脖子上使它的呼吸都快憋住了。在迅速的狂怒中,它扑向这个人。那人在中途迎击了它。那人紧紧地抓住了它的喉咙,灵巧地一拧,将它翻了个个,然后用绳子残忍地捆住了它。当巴克在凶残的狂怒中挣扎时,它的舌头懒洋洋地从嘴里伸了出来,它巨大的胸脯无用地喘着气。在它有生以来,从没有人把它这么卑贱地对待过,它也从来没有如此这般地愤怒过。但是它的力气逐渐地衰弱了,它只能双目怒视着。
    当火车沿着铁路开过来,两个人把它扔进行李车箱时,它知道一切都没用了。
    接下来它朦朦胧胧地知道它的舌头受伤了。它被装进一节车厢里,又震、又晃、又摇。火车头沙哑的呼啸声告诉它,它已经走了很远很远。它随法官旅行得太多了,行李车上的轰动已经不怎么觉得了。它睁开双眼,扑入眼帘的是绑架它的那家伙无拘无束的愤怒。那家伙正反撬着它的吼咙,它使劲地甩起了头,爪子紧紧地抓住那个人的手,一直到它的感官又一次被窒息了才松开了它们。
“你…你有种!”那人说着把被它抓烂的手藏在身后。押运员已被这边挣扎的响声吸引了过来:“我把它带上去交给费兰西克老板,那里有第一流的狗大夫,能把它的舌头治好的。”
    由于要关注那天的行程,那人坐在行李车后小屋子里的旧金山热水器上,嘴里一直都在滔滔不决地自言自语着。
    “我这次才弄了50只。”他愤愤不平地:“还赚不到1000块钱”
    他的手包着一块露血的手帕,右边的裤腿从膝盖以下全被撕破了。
    “别的那些笨蛋们都弄了多少?”看大厅的人问。
    “100只。都是最低的价格。来,这么帮帮我”
    “这只能值150”看大门的人大声地说:“它值,要不我就是个鳖。”
    那人拆去了血崩带,看着划破了的手:“我不会得狂犬病吧?”
    “都因为你爹是绞刑犯的刽子手!”看大门的人大笑着:“来,过来再帮我一把。”他又追加了一句。
    巴克眼花缭乱,吼咙和舌头无法忍受地疼痛,生命有一半都被勒死了。它试图勇敢地反抗折磨它的人,但它又被摔倒了,又被重新勒住了,直到他们成功地将一个厚厚的黄铜领圈套在它的脖子上,然后绳索才被拿走。巴克被猛地扔进了一个像笼子的条板箱里。
    它躺在剩下的货堆上,渡着难熬的夜,护理着它的愤怒和自尊。它不理解,这到底是为什么?他们要它干什么?这些奇怪的人!为什么他们一直把它关在这么个狭窄的条板箱里?它不知道为什么,但它感觉得到有种灾难正在向它走来,这种感觉一直压迫着它。
    那天晚上,每当那小屋的门“咔嗒咔嗒”开了的时侯,它都努力地蹬着腿,期望着能看到法官,或者止少也应该能看到那些孩子们。可是每一次都是大厅把门人那张膨胀的脸在微弱的灯光下凝视着它,并且每一次巴克从颤抖的吼咙里发出的愉快的吠叫声,都是在那看门人野蛮的呻吟声中回旋缭绕。
大厅把门人一直让它独自呆在一处。
早晨,来了四个人抬起了条板箱。巴克认定他们都是些更多的来折磨它的人,因为他们看上去都像魔鬼似的,穿着又破又烂。它愤怒地在条板箱里向他们狂叫,咬着他们伸过来的棍子。他们只是笑笑,用棍子戳着它。它敏捷地用牙咬着戳过来的棍子,至到意识到这正好是他们所需要的。因此,最后,它只好邋里邋遢地躺下来允许条板箱被抬到货车上,然后它和那个装它的条板箱就开始从人们的手上传过来传过去。快车办公室的职员们负责着它,它被装进了另一节货车里。这是一辆卡车,箱子和包裹混装在一起。这辆卡车开上了一艘小轮船,又从小轮船上开了下来,开到了一个大的铁路车站。最后,它又被装上了一辆邮政快车。
    两天两夜里,这辆邮政快车迎着沿途尖声高叫的机车声向前开着。两天两夜里,巴克既没吃又没喝。一怒之下,它第一次遇见邮车的送信人就咆哮了一阵,而那些送信人就把逗引它作为对它的报复。它猛得冲向条板箱,哆嗦着、狂叫着。他们就嘲笑它,他们就像对待那些讨人嫌的狗一样对它大喊着、呜呜地向它叫着。他们跳着,轻轻地拍着他们的胸脯,互相挤来挤去。它知道,它太愚蠢了。他们对它的体面和威严极尽嘲弄、侮辱之能事。于是它就越来越愤怒,它一点儿都不在乎它是那么饥饿,但水的缺少却使它遭受到很大的痛苦,这就更增大了它狂暴的愤怒。因此,高度的冲动和极端的敏感,使它猛得一下子陷进了一种热病之中,而这种热病又加重了它喉咙和舌头发烧似的疼痛。
    它高兴的是,它的脖子上不再有绳索了。那玩意儿曾不公平地给了那些人一个好处,但现在那玩意儿不在了。它要显示给他们看,他们将再也不能给它的脖子系什么绳索了。脖子上一有那玩意儿,它马上就被解决了。
    两天两夜了,它既没吃又没喝。但在这痛苦的两天两夜里,它积累了所有的愤怒,不管是谁第一个侮辱了它,它都要狠狠地报复他。它的双眼里充满了要迸发出来的血,它愤怒得都要变态了,它要变成一个魔鬼,这样的变化将使法官本人都不能认出它来。
邮车的邮差们平静而又安稳地呼息着,他们在西雅图把它绑着离开了火车。
四个人小心谨慎地把木板箱从货车上抬了下来,抬进了一所四周都是高墙的小院子的后面。一个穿着红毛衣,毛衣上有着又宽又松领子的壮汉走了出来,他给司机在本子上签了字。这个人巴克一眼就看清了他,他就是下一个要折磨它的人。就是这个人猛地把它扔到了酒店的柜台前,这人残忍地笑着,手里拿着一把斧子和一根棍子。
    “你现在就要把它放出来?”司机问。
    “对!”这人答到,一下把斧子劈在条板箱上,向里面张望着。
    把它抬进来的那四个人一下子散开了,为了安全他们爬到了墙上,他们准备看巴克有什么表演。
    巴克一下子咬住了那快裂开了的木头,和木头滚在了一起。不管斧子落在了箱子的哪里,它都在箱子的哪里咆哮着,它狂怒焦虑地想早点出来。一开始那个红毛衣还想平静地让它出来,这时也焦急地想让它早点出来。
    “你这个红眼的魔鬼!”当他把木箱弄得足够巴克的身子出来的时候,他说。与此同时,他把斧子扔到了一边顺手抄起了棍子。
    巴克确实是个红眼睛的魔鬼了。它浑身充满力气跳了出来,毛发竖起,嘴里吐着白沫,充血的眼睛里闪着疯狂的光。它用它140磅重的狂怒向这个红毛衣进攻,渲泻着两天两夜来被监禁起来的情欲。
    半空中,就在它的爪子就要扑在这个人身上的时候,它受到了猛猛的一击,这一击阻止了它身体的向前。它的所有牙齿就像被一只令人苦恼的夹子夹住了似的挤在了一起。它在空中转了一圈,背落在了地上。
    在它的一生中,它从没遇到过棒子的攻击,它也不理解棒子。随着一声咆啸、一声尖叫,它又重新站了起来,跃起到空中。又一次,那种打击来了,它又被击溃到地上。这次它明白了,原来是那根棒子。但它的疯狂使它失去了理智,它一次又一次地进攻着,那根棒子一次又一次地粉碎了它的进攻,把它击落到地上。
在一次特别激烈的攻击之后,它爬到地上,眼花缭乱地不敢再往前冲了。它摇摇摆摆,一瘸一拐地,血从鼻子里、嘴里、耳朵里流了出来。它美丽的皮毛上泛起了一层浪花,到处是血污和口水的斑点。
    这时,红毛衣走上前来,盘算着在它的鼻子上又来了一次猛烈的击打。它受到的所有的疼痛都不能和这一次剧烈的惨痛相比较。随着一声几乎是雄狮般惨烈的吼叫,它又一次猛扑向了这个人。可是这人左右挥舞着棒子,冷静地抓住了它的下颚,同时向下向后一拧。巴克在空中划了一个漂亮的圆圈,又转了半圈,然后头和胸脯狠狠地摔在了地上。
它又最后冲了一次,这人敏捷地又向它一击,故意把它长时间地压住。巴克垮了下来,完全没有了进攻的意识。
    “我要说的是,”墙上一个人热心地喊着:“它不是个脓包。”
    司机笑着说:“比警犬还厉害!”他爬上货车,打着马走了。
    巴克又恢复了意识,但它一点儿力气都没有了,它躺在那里,一动不动地看着这个穿红毛线衣的男子。
    “名符其实,它太适合叫巴克这个名字了。”这人自言自语地念着大厅把门人的信。信上列举了条板箱里货品的清单:“对,巴克,我的孩子。”他接着用一种温和的语气说:“不打不成交!我们能做的最好的事就是做好朋友,你已经知道了你的位置。我呢,也知道了我的位置。做一条好狗吧,一切都会好的。要是当一条坏狗呢,我就要用鞭子抽你,明白了吗?”
    他说这话的时候,毫不惧怕的拍打着他刚才如此残忍地乱打的狗头。虽然巴克的头发在那只手触摸时又下意识地竖了起来,但它忍耐着没有发做出来。这个人给它拿来了水,它热情地喝着。后来它又从那人慷慨递过来的手里狼吞虎咽地吃着大块大块的生肉,一块一块的面包。
    它被揍了一顿,它知道了这一点,但它没有被打的彻底爬下。它明白,只此一次(最后一次),对拿着大棒的人它是没有成功的希望的。它已经学习了这一课,在它以后的生命里,它将永远不会忘记这一课。那根棒子是个启示,它介绍了最原始的统治的法律。巴克是在生命的半途之中才认识到这一点的,生命的现实呈现出一种可怕的景象。当它面对这种景象不能退缩时,它就要带着它所有潜伏着的被自然唤起的狡猾来对待它。
    随着一天天地过去,又来了很多狗。有在条板箱里的,有用绳子栓着的;有的很驯服,有的很狂怒,像它刚来时一样地咆哮着。一个一个地,它看到它们都由那个穿红毛衣的人做主。一遍又一遍地,当它看着那些野蛮的表演时,巴克的课程真是上到家了,真是上到它的心坎里了、骨髓里了:拿着棒子的人是法律的制定者、是要服从的主人,虽然没有必要要他来抚慰你。但从此以后,巴克再没有犯罪。可它也确实看见了,那些挨过打的狗们向这个人献媚、摇尾乞怜、舔着他的手。但它还看到一只狗,既不妩媚又不服从,最后在为争夺控制权的争斗中,被活活打死了。
    时不时地人们不断地出现,有很多陌生人。他们激动地、甜言蜜语地用各种时髦的方式和这个穿红毛衣的人说话。同样,一次又一次地,钱在他们之间交换着,陌生人走时带走了一只又一只的狗。巴克十分想知道,那些狗都去了哪里?因为它们再也没有回来。可是对将来的恐惧强烈地压迫着它,因此每次它没有被选中,每次都使它很高兴。
    但是它的时刻终于来到了。终于,一个相貌萎缩的人吵架似地说着蹩脚的英语,奇怪而生疏地大呼小叫着巴克听不懂的话:“该死的贱货!”他喊着,目光在巴克身上闪着。    “这不是一条挨千刀的烈狗吗?厄?多少钱?”
    “三百。现钱!”穿红毛衣的人快嘴答道。“看看,这是政府定的价。你不要走近它!可凶了,波罗特!”
    波罗特呲牙咧嘴地笑了,考虑着这种不合理的冲天的狗价。买这么好的一条狗,这个价还是公平的。加拿大政府可不是随便丢东西的主,他们的公文要是旅行起来那可不能慢。波罗特了解狗,他一看见巴克就知道它是一只千里挑一的狗。------“千里挑一的狗哇!”他神经质地评论着。
    巴克又看见钱在他们之间交换了。当那位好性子的狗“新大陆发现者”柯利和它一起被这位小个子的萎萎缩缩的小男人领走的时候,它一点儿都不吃惊。这是它最后一次看见穿红毛衣的人。而当柯利和它被拉到纳威儿号的甲板上,又回到西雅图时,这也是它最后一眼看见温暖的南方大地的。
    柯利和巴克被波罗特带了去,又交给了一个叫费兰柯斯的黑脸大汉。波罗特是一个法裔加拿大人,很黑。但费兰柯斯却是个法裔,又四分之一加拿大血统的人,比他还要黑一倍。他们对巴克来说,是新类型的人。(巴克命中注定要见到更多的这种类型的人。)随着和他们的接触,虽说谈不上爱他们吧,但巴克还是很公正地增长了对他们的尊敬。它渐渐地知道了波罗特和费兰柯斯都是很好的人,平易近人而又公正无私。对待狗,也很聪明,不会被狗所愚弄。
    在纳威儿号的甲板上,巴克和柯利加入到另两条狗的中间。那两条狗中有一条很大、浑身雪白,这家伙是纳威儿号捕鲸船的船长在北冰洋上的斯佩茨伯格群岛买来的,(就叫它斯佩茨吧)它后来还陪拌着一个地质调查队到过加拿大北部冻土带的伯瑞岛。它很友好(用一种不忠实的叛逆的方式),当它沉思某种卑鄙诡计时,它就把笑容刻在脸上。比方说,第一次吃饭时,它就偷吃了巴克的食物。而巴克跳起来要惩治它时,费兰柯斯的皮鞭在空中响起,先落在那个偷食者的身上,却没有落在巴克身上什么,只是令巴克的皮肤紧张了一下。这就是费兰柯斯的公平。巴克这样判断着,这个混血儿开始受到巴克的尊敬了。
    另一条狗没什么冒险的行动,因此也就没什么可说的。它并不企图偷吃新来者的东西,它是一个悲观的、愁眉苦脸的家伙,它直接了当地给柯利表明了它最大的愿望就是独自一个走开。进一步说,如果它不独自走开,那就要有麻烦。它叫戴夫,它不时地吃、睡、打哈欠,对什么都不感兴趣。甚止在纳威尔号渡过加拿大西部沙罗特王后群岛时,船身那样地震动、那样地颠簸、那样地跳跃,它还是像一个不能如愿的、一心要保持平静的东西躺在那里。当时巴克和柯利都变得激动了起来,这激动有一半是充满了恐怖的疯狂。而那个戴夫,就像是斗恼了似的、仅仅是抬起了头、用一种无所谓的目光、随意地看看它们、打了一个哈欠、又睡觉去了。
日日夜夜,纳威尔号在不屈不挠的推进器的跳动中颠簸前进着。虽然今天和昨天一样,但巴克还是感觉到了天气越来越冷。最后,一天早晨,推进器安静了,纳威尔号沉浸在一种激动的气氛中。巴克感到了这一点,别的狗也感到了这一点,都知道随时要发生变化了。
    费兰柯斯用皮带绑住了它们,把它们带到了甲板上。一接触到冷空气,巴克的四脚就陷进了一种白色的、像泥土的糊状东西中。它喷着鼻子向回跳着,那种白色的像毛制品的东西向下落的更多了。它抖擞着全身,可更多的又落在了它的身上。它好奇地闻闻那东西,然后用舌头舔起了一些,舌头是像火一样的感觉,可那感觉马上就没有了、不见了。这使它很迷惑,它又试了一次,还和刚才一样,都是同样的结果。旁观者吵吵闹闹地大笑着。它感觉到很是羞耻。它不知道为什么会是这样。这是它第一次见到雪

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Thanks for your sharing.O(∩_∩)O
执素衣

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等级: 内阁元老
举报 只看该作者 6楼  发表于: 2013-10-08 0


CHAPTER 7

THE SOUNDING OF THE CALL

When Buck earned sixteen hundred dollars in five minutes for John Thornton, he made it possible for his master to pay off certain debts and to journey with his partners into the East after a fabled lost mine, the history of which was as old as the history of the country. Many men had sought it; few had found it; and more than a few there were who had never returned from the quest. This lost mine was steeped in tragedy and shrouded in mystery. No one knew of the first man. The oldest tradition stopped before it got back to him. From the beginning there had been an ancient and ramshackle cabin. Dying men had sworn to it, and to the mine the site of which it marked, clinching their testimony with nuggets that were unlike any known grade of gold in the Northland.
But no living man had looted this treasure house, and the dead were dead; wherefore John Thornton and Pete and Hans, with Buck and half a dozen other dogs, faced into the East on an unknown trail to achieve where men and dogs as good as themselves had failed. They sledded seventy miles up the Yukon, swung to the left into the Stewart River, passed the Mayo and the McQuestion, and held on until the Stewart itself became a streamlet, threading the upstanding peaks which marked the backbone of the continent.

John Thornton asked little of man or nature. He was unafraid of the wild. With a handful of salt and a rifle he could plunge into the wilderness and fare wherever he pleased and as long as he pleased. Being in no haste, Indian fashion, he hunted his dinner in the course of the day's traveling; and if he failed to find it, like the Indian, he kept on traveling, secure in the knowledge that sooner or later he would come to it. So, on this great journey into the East, straight meat was the bill of fare, ammunition and tools principally made up the load on the sled, and the timecard was drawn upon the limitless future.
To Buck it was boundless delight, this hunting, fishing, and indefinite wandering through strange places. For weeks at a time they would hold on steadily, day after day; and for weeks upon end they would camp, here and there, the dogs loafing and the men burning holes through frozen muck and gravel and washing countless pans of dirt by the heat of the fire. Sometimes they went hungry, sometimes they feasted riotously, all according to the abundance of game and the fortune of hunting. Summer arrived, and dogs and men, packs on their backs, rafted across blue mountain lakes, and descended or ascended unknown rivers in slender boats whipsawed from the standing forest.
The months came and went, and back and forth they twisted through the uncharted vastness, where no men were and yet where men had been if the Lost Cabin were true. They went across divides in summer blizzards, shivered under the midnight sun on naked mountains between the timber line and the eternal snows, dropped into summer valleys amid swarming gnats and flies, and in the shadows of glaciers picked strawberries and flowers as ripe and fair as any the Southland could boast. In the fall of the year they penetrated a weird lake country, sad and silent, where wild fowl had been, but where then there was no life nor sign of life--only the blowing of chill winds, the forming of ice in sheltered places, and the melancholy rippling of waves on lonely beaches.
And through another winter they wandered on the obliterated trails of men who had gone before. Once, they came upon a path blazed throughout the forest, an ancient path, and the Lost Cabin seemed very near. But the path began nowhere and ended nowhere, and remained a mystery, as the man who made it and the reason he made it remained a mystery. Another time they chanced upon the time-graven wreckage of a hunting lodge, and amid the shreds of rotted blankets John Thornton found a long-barreled flintlock. He knew it for a Hudson Bay Company gun of the young days in the Northwest, when such a gun was worth its weight in beaver skins packed flat. And that was all--no hint as to the man who in an early day had reared the lodge and left the gun among the blankets.
Spring came on once more, and at the end of all their wandering they found, not the Lost Cabin, but a shallow placer in a broad valley where the gold showed like yellow butter across the bottom of the washing pan. They sought no farther. Each day they worked earned them thousands of dollars in clean dust and nuggets, and they worked every day. The gold was sacked in moosehide bags, fifty pounds to the bag, and piled like so much firewood outside the spruce-bough lodge. Like giants they toiled, days flashing on the heels of days like dreams as they heaped the treasure up.
There was nothing for the dogs to do, save the hauling of meat now and again that Thornton killed, and Buck spent long hours musing by the fire. The vision of the short-legged hairy man came to him more frequently, now that there was little work to be done; and often, blinking by the fire, Buck wandered with him in that other world which he remembered.
The salient thing of this other world seemed fear. When he watched the hairy man sleeping by the fire, head between his knees and hands clasped above, Buck saw that he slept restlessly, with many starts and awakenings at which times he would peer fearfully into the darkness and fling more wood upon the fire. Did they walk by the beach of a sea, where the hairy man gathered shellfish and ate them as he gathered, it was with eyes that roved everywhere for hidden danger and with legs prepared to run like the wind at its first appearance. Through the forest they crept noiselessly, Buck at the hairy man's heels; and they were alert and vigilant, the pair of them, ears twitching and moving and nostrils quivering, for the man heard and smelled as keenly as Buck. The hairy man could spring up into the trees and travel ahead as fast as on the ground, swinging by the arms from limb to limb, sometimes a dozen feet apart, letting go and catching, never falling, never missing his grip. In fact, he seemed as much at home among the trees as on the ground; and Buck had memories of nights of vigil spent beneath the trees wherein the hairy man roosted, holding on tightly as he slept.
And closely akin to the visions of the hairy man was the call still sounding in the depths of the forest. It filled him with a great unrest and strange desires. It caused him to feel a vague, sweet gladness, and he was aware of wild yearnings and stirrings for he knew not what. Sometimes he pursued the call into the forest, looking for it as though it were a tangible thing, barking softly or defiantly, as the mood might dictate. He would thrust his nose into the cool wood moss, or into the black soil where long grasses grew, and snort with joy at the fat earth smells; or he would crouch for hours, as if in concealment, behind fungus covered trunks of fallen trees, wide-eyed and wide-eared to all that moved and sounded about him. It might be, lying thus, that he hoped to surprise this call he could not understand. But he did not know why he did these various things. He was impelled to do them, and did not reason about them at all.
Irresistible impulses seized him. He would be lying in camp, dozing lazily in the heat of the day, when suddenly his head would lift and his ears cock up, intent and listening, and he would spring to his feet and dash away, and on and on, for hours, through the forest aisles and across the open spaces where the niggerheads bunched. He loved to run down dry watercourses, and to creep and spy upon the bird life in the woods. For a day at a time he would lie in the underbrush where he could watch the partridges drumming and strutting up and down. But especially he loved to run in the dim twilight of the summer midnights, listening to the subdued and sleepy murmurs of the forest, reading signs and sounds as man may read a book, and seeking for the mysterious something that called--called, waking or sleeping, at all times, for him to come.
One night he sprang from sleep with a start, eager-eyed, nostrils quivering and scenting, his mane bristling in recurrent waves. From the forest came the call --(or one note of it, for the call was many-noted), distinct and definite as never before--a long-drawn howl, like, yet unlike, any noise made by husky dog. And he knew it, in the old familiar way, as a sound heard before. He sprang through the sleeping camp and in swift silence dashed through the woods. As he drew closer to the cry he went more slowly, with caution in every movement, till he came to an open place among the trees, and looking out saw, erect on haunches, with nose pointed to the sky, a long, lean, timber wolf.
He had made no noise, yet it ceased from its howling and tried to sense his presence. Buck stalked into the open, half-crouching, body gathered compactly together, tail straight and stiff, feet falling with unwonted care. Every movement advertised commingled threatening and overture of friendliness. It was the menacing truce that marks the meeting of wild beasts that prey. But the wolf fled at sight of him. He followed, with wild leapings, in a frenzy to overtake. He ran him into a blind channel, in the bed of the creek, where a timber jam barred the way. The wolf whirled about, pivoting on his hind legs after the fashion of Joe and of all cornered husky dogs, snarling and bristling, clipping his teeth together in a continuous and rapid succession of snaps.
Buck did not attack, but circled him about and hedged him in with friendly advances. The wolf was suspicious and afraid; for Buck made three of him in weight, while his head barely reached Buck's shoulder. Watching his chance, he darted away, and the chase was resumed. Time and again he was cornered, and the thing repeated, though he was in poor condition or Buck could not so easily have overtaken him. He would run till Buck's head was even with his flank, when he would whirl around at bay, only to dash away again at the first opportunity.
But in the end Buck's pertinacity was rewarded; for the wolf, finding that no harm was intended, finally sniffed noses with him. Then they became friendly, and played about in the nervous, half-coy way with which fierce beasts belie their fierceness. After some time of this the wolf started off at an easy lope in a manner that plainly showed he was going somewhere. He made it clear to Buck that he was to come, and they ran side by side through the somber twilight, straight up the creek bed, into the gorge from which it issued, and across the bleak divide where it took its rise.
On the opposite slope of the watershed they came down into a level country where were great stretches of forest and many streams, and through these great stretches they ran steadily, hour after hour, the sun rising higher and the day growing warmer. Buck was wildly glad. He knew he was at last answering the call, running by the side of his wood brother toward the place from where the call surely came. Old memories were coming upon him fast, and he was stirring to them as of old he stirred to the realities of which they were the shadows. He had done this thing before, somewhere in that other and dimly remembered world, and he was doing it again, now, running free in the open, the unpacked earth underfoot, the wide sky overhead.
They stopped by a running stream to drink, and, stopping, Buck remembered John Thornton. He sat down. The wolf started on toward the place from where the call surely came, then returned to him, sniffing noses and making actions as though to encourage him. But Buck turned about and started slowly on the back track. For the better part of an hour the wild brother ran by his side, whining softly. Then he sat down, pointed his nose upward, and howled. It was a mournful howl, and as Buck held steadily on his way he heard it grow faint and fainter until it was lost in the distance.
John Thornton was eating dinner when Buck dashed into camp and sprang upon him in a frenzy of affection, overturning him, scrambling upon him, licking his face, biting his hand--"playing the general tom-fool," as John Thornton characterized it, the while he shook Buck back and forth and cursed him lovingly.
For two days and nights Buck never left camp, never let Thornton out of his sight. He followed him about at his work, watched him while he ate, saw him into his blankets at night and out of them in the morning. But after two days the call in the forest began to sound more imperiously than ever. Buck's restlessness came back on him, and he was haunted by recollections of the wild brother, and of the smiling land beyond the divide and the run side by side through the wide forest stretches. Once again he took to wandering in the woods, but the wild brother came no more; and though he listened through long vigils, the mournful howl was never raised.
He began to sleep out at night, staying away from camp for days at a time; and once he crossed the divide at the head of the creek and went down into the land of timber and streams. There he wandered for a week, seeking vainly for fresh sign of the wild brother, killing his meat as he traveled and traveling with the long, easy lope that seems never to tire. He fished for salmon in a broad stream that emptied somewhere into the sea, and by this stream he killed a large black bear, blinded by the mosquitoes while likewise fishing, and raging through the forest helpless and terrible. Even so, it was a hard fight, and it aroused the last latent remnants of Buck's ferocity. And two days later, when he returned to his kill and found a dozen wolverines quarreling over the spoil, he scattered them like chaff; and those that fled left two behind who would quarrel no more.
The blood-longing became stronger than ever before. He was a killer, a thing that preyed, living on the things that lived, unaided, alone, by virtue of his own strength and prowess, surviving triumphantly in a hostile environment where only the strong survived. Because of all this he became possessed of a great pride in himself, which communicated itself like a contagion to his physical being. It advertised itself in all his movements, was apparent in the play of every muscle, spoke plainly as speech in the way he carried himself, and made his glorious furry coat if anything more glorious. But for the stray brown on his muzzle and above his eyes, and for the splash of white hair that ran midmost down his chest, he might well have been mistaken for a gigantic wolf, larger than the largest of the breed. From his St. Bernard father he had inherited size and weight, but it was his shepherd mother who had given shape to that size and weight. His muzzle was the long wolf muzzle, save that it was larger than the muzzle of any wolf; and his head, somewhat broader, was the wolf head on a massive scale.
His cunning was wolf cunning, and wild cunning; his intelligence, shepherd intelligence and St. Bernard intelligence; and all this, plus an experience gained in the fiercest of schools, made him as formidable a creature as any that roamed the wild. A carnivorous animal, living on a straight meat diet, he was in full flower, at the high tide of his life, over-spilling with vigor and virility. When Thornton passed a caressing hand along his back, a snapping and crackling followed the hand, each hair discharging its pent magnetism at the contact. Every part, brain and body, nerve tissue and fiber, was keyed to the most exquisite pitch; and between all the parts there was a perfect equilibrium or adjustment. To sights and sounds and events which required action, he responded with lighting-like rapidity. Quickly as a husky dog could leap to defend from attack or to attack, he could leap twice as quickly. He saw the movement, or heard sound, and responded in less time than another dog required to compass the mere seeing or hearing. He perceived and determined and responded in the same instant. In point of fact the three actions of perceiving, determining, and responding were sequential; but so infinitesimal were the intervals of time between them that they appeared simultaneous. His muscles were surcharged with vitality, and snapped into play sharply, like steel springs. Life streamed through him in splendid flood, glad and rampant, until it seemed that it would burst him asunder in sheer ecstasy and put forth generously over the world.
"Never was there such a dog," said John Thornton one day, as the partners watched Buck marching out of camp.
"When he was made, the mold was broke," said Pete.
"Py Jingo! I think so mineself," Hans affirmed.
They saw him marching out of camp, but they did not see the instant and terrible transformation which took place as soon as he was within the secrecy of the forest. He no longer marched. At once he became a thing of the wild, stealing along softly, cat-footed, a passing shadow that appeared and disappeared among the shadows. He knew how to take advantage of every cover, to crawl on his belly like a snake, and like a snake to leap and strike. He could take a ptarmigan from its nest, kill a rabbit as it slept, and snap in mid-air the little chipmunks fleeing a second too late for the trees. Fish, in open pools, were not too quick for him; nor were beaver, mending their dams, too wary. he killed to eat, not from wantonness; but he preferred to eat what he killed himself. So a lurking humor ran through his deeds, and it was his delight to steal upon the squirrels, and, when he all but had them, to let them go, chattering in mortal fear to the tree-tops.
As the fall of the year came on, the moose appeared in greater abundance, moving slowly down to meet the winter in the lower and less rigorous valleys. Buck had already dragged down a stray part-grown calf; but he wished strongly for larger and more formidable quarry, and he came upon it one day on the divide at the head of the creek. A band of twenty moose had crossed over from the land of streams and timber, and chief among them was a great bull. He was in a savage temper, and, standing over six feet from the ground, was as formidable an antagonist as even Buck could desire. Back and forth the bull tossed his great palmated antlers, branching to fourteen points and embracing seven feet with the tips. His small eyes burned with a vicious and bitter light, while he roared with fury at sight of Buck.
From the bull's side, just forward of the flank, protruded a feathered arrow-end, which accounted for his savageness. Guided by that instinct which came from the old hunting days of the primordial world, Buck proceeded to cut the bull out from the herd. It was no slight task. He would bark and dance about in front of the bull, just out of reach of the great antlers and of the terrible splay hoofs which could have stamped his life out with a single blow. Unable to turn his back on the fanged danger and go on, the bull would be driven into paroxysms of rage. At such moments he charged Buck, who retreated craftily, luring him on by a simulated inability to escape. But when he was thus separated from his fellows, two or three of the younger bulls would charge back upon Buck and enable the wounded bull to rejoin the herd.
There is a patience of the wild--dogged, tireless, persistent as life itself--that holds motionless for endless hours the spider in its web, the snake in its coils, the panther in its ambuscade; this patience belongs peculiarly to life when it hunts its living food; and it belonged to Buck as he clung to the flank of the herd, retarding its march, irritating the young bulls, worrying the cows with their half-grown calves, and driving the wounded bull mad with helpless rage. For half a day this continued. Buck multiplied himself, attacking from all sides, enveloping the herd in a whirlwind of menace, cutting out his victim as fast as it could rejoin its mates, wearing out the patience of creatures preyed upon, which is a lesser patience than that of creatures preying.
As the day wore along and the sun dropped to its bed in the northwest (the darkness had come back and the fall nights were six hours long), the young bulls retraced their steps more and more reluctantly to the aid of their beset leader. The down-coming winter was hurrying them on to the lower levels, and it seemed they could never shake off this tireless creature that held them back. Besides, it was not the life of the herd, or of the young bulls, that was threatened. The life of only one member was demanded, which was a remoter interest than their lives, and in the end they were content to pay the toll.
As twilight fell the old bull stood with lowered head, watching his mates--the cows he had known, the calves he had fathered, the bulls he had mastered--as they shambled on at a rapid pace through the fading light. He could not follow, for before his nose leaped the merciless fanged terror that would not let him go. Three hundred weight more than half a ton he weighed; he had lived a long, strong life, full of fight and struggle, and at the end he faced death at the teeth of a creature whose head did not reach beyond his great knuckled knees.
From then on, night and day, Buck never left his prey, never gave it a moment's rest, never permitted it to browse the leaves of trees or the shoots of young birch and willow. Nor did he give the wounded bull opportunity to slake his burning thirst in the slender trickling streams they crossed. Often, in desperation, he burst into long stretches of flight. At such time Buck did not attempt to stay him, but loped easily at his heels, satisfied with the way the game was played, lying down when the moose stood still, attacking him fiercely when he strove to eat or drink.
The great head drooped more and more under its tree of horns, and the shambling trot grew weaker and weaker. He took to standing for long periods, with nose to the ground and dejected ears dropped limply; and Buck found more time in which to get water for himself and in which to rest. At such moments, panting with red lolling tongue and with eyes fixed upon the big bull, it appeared to Buck that a change was coming over the face of things. He could feel a new stir in the land. As the moose were coming into the land, other kinds of life were coming in. Forest and stream and air seemed palpitant with their presence. The news of it was borne in upon him, not by sight, or sound, or smell, but by some other and subtler sense. He heard nothing, saw nothing, yet knew that the land was somehow different; that through it strange things were afoot and ranging; and he resolved to investigate after he had finished the business in hand.
At last, at the end of the fourth day, he pulled the great moose down. For a day and a night he remained by the kill, eating and sleeping, turn and turn about. Then, rested, refreshed and strong, he turned his face toward camp and John Thornton. He broke into the long easy lope, and went on, hour after hour, never at loss for the tangled way, heading straight home through strange country with a certitude of direction that put man and his magnetic needle to shame.
As he held on he became more and more conscious of the new stir in the land. There was life abroad in it different from the life which had been there throughout the summer. No longer was this fact borne in upon him in some subtle, mysterious way. The birds talked of it, the squirrels chattered about it, the very breeze whispered of it. Several times he stopped and drew in the fresh morning air in great sniffs, reading a message which made him leap on with greater speed. He was oppressed with a sense of calamity happening, if it were not calamity already happened, and as he crossed the last watershed and dropped down into the valley toward camp, he proceeded with greater caution.
Three miles away he came upon a fresh trail that sent his neck hair rippling and bristling. It led straight toward camp and John Thornton. Buck hurried on, swiftly and stealthily, every nerve straining and tense, alert to the multitudinous details which told a story--all but the end. His nose gave him a varying description of the passage of the life on the heels of which he was traveling. He remarked the pregnant silence of the forest. The bird life had flitted. The squirrels were in hiding. One only he saw--a sleek gray fellow, flattened against a gray dead limb so that he seemed a part of it, a woody excrescence upon the wood itself.
As Buck slid along with the obscureness of a gliding shadow, his nose was jerked suddenly to the side as though a positive force had gripped and pulled it. He followed the new scent into a thicket and found Nig. He was lying on his side, dead where he had dragged himself, an arrow protruding, head and feathers, from either side of his body.
A hundred yards farther on, Buck came upon one of the sled dogs Thornton had bought in Dawson. This dog was thrashing about in a death-struggle, directly on the trail, and Buck passed around him without stopping. From the camp came the faint sound of many voices, rising and falling in a sing-song chant. Bellying forward to the edge of the clearing, he found Hans, lying on his face, feathered with arrows like a porcupine. At the same instant Buck peered out where the spruce-bough lodge had been and saw what made his hair leap straight up on his neck and shoulders. A gust of overpowering rage swept over him. He did not know that he growled, but he growled aloud with a terrible ferocity. For the last time in his life he allowed passion to usurp cunning and reason, and it was because of his great love for John Thornton that he lost his head.
The Yeehats were dancing about the wreckage of the spruce-bough lodge when they heard a fearful roaring and saw rushing upon them an animal the like of which they had never seen before. It was Buck, a live hurricane of fury, hurling himself upon them in a frenzy to destroy. He sprang at the foremost man--it was the chief of the Yeehats--ripping the throat wide open till the rent jugular spouted a fountain of blood. He did not pause to worry the victim, but ripped in passing, with the next bound tearing wide the throat of a second man. There was no withstanding him. He plunged about in their very midst, tearing, rending, destroying, in constant and terrific motion which defied the arrows they discharged at him. In fact, so inconceivably rapid were his movements, and so closely were the Indians tangled together, that they shot one another with the arrows; and one young hunter, hurling a spear at Buck in mid-air, drove it through the chest of another hunter with such force that the point broke through the skin of the back and stood out beyond. then a panic seized the Yeehats, and they fled in terror to the woods, proclaiming as they fled the advent of the Evil Spirit.
And truly Buck was the Fiend incarnate, raging at their heels and dragging them down like deer as they raced through the trees. It was a fateful day for the Yeehats. They scattered far and wide over the country, and it was not till a week later that the last of the survivors gathered together in a lower valley and counted their losses. As for Buck, wearying of the pursuit, he returned to the desolated camp. He found Pete where he had been killed in his blankets in the first moment of surprise. Thornton's desperate struggle was fresh-written on the earth and Buck scented every detail of it down to the edge of a deep pool. By the edge, head and fore feet in the water, lay Skeet, faithful to the last. The pool itself, muddy and discolored from the sluice boxes, effectually hid what it contained, and it contained John Thornton; for Buck followed his trace into the water, from which no trace led away.
All day Buck brooded by the pool or roamed restlessly about the camp. Death, as a cessation of movement, as a passing out and away from the lives of the living, he knew, and he knew John Thornton was dead. It left a great void in him, somewhat akin to hunger, but a void which ached and ached, and which food could not fill. At times, when he paused to contemplate the carcasses of the Yeehats, he forgot the pain of it; and at such times he was aware of a great pride in himself--a pride greater than any he had yet experienced. He had killed man, the noblest game of all, and he had killed in the face of the law of club and fang. He sniffed the bodies curiously. They had died so easily. It was harder to kill a husky dog than them. They were no match at all, were it not for their arrows and spears and clubs. Thenceforward he would be unafraid of them except when they bore in their hands their arrows, spears and clubs.
Night came on, and a full moon rose high over the trees into the sky, lighting the land till it lay bathed in ghostly day. And with the coming of the night, brooding and mourning by the pool, Buck came alive to a stirring of the new life in the forest other than that which the Yeehats had made. He stood up, listening and scenting. From far away drifted a faint, sharp yelp, followed by a chorus of similar sharp yelps. As the moments passed the yelps grew closer and louder. Again Buck knew them as things heard in that other world which persisted in his memory. He walked to the center of the open space and listened. It was the call, the many-noted call, sounding more luringly and compelling than ever before. And as never before, he was ready to obey. John Thornton was dead. The last tie was broken. Man and the claims of man no longer bound him.
Hunting their living meat, as the Yeehats were hunting it, on the flanks of the migrating moose, the wolf pack had at last crossed over from the land of streams and timber and invaded Buck's valley. Into the clearing where the moonlight streamed, they poured in a silvery flood; and in the center of the clearing stood Buck, motionless as a statue, waiting their coming. they were awed, so still and large he stood, and a moment's pause fell, till the boldest one leaped straight for him. Like a flash Buck struck, breaking the neck. Then he stood, without movement, as before, the stricken wolf rolling in agony behind him. Three others tried it in sharp succession; and one after the other they drew back, streaming blood from slashed throats or shoulders.
This was sufficient to fling the whole pack forward, pellmell, crowded together, blocked and confused by its eagerness to pull down the prey. Buck's marvelous quickness and agility stood him in good stead. Pivoting on his hind legs, and snapping and gashing, he was everywhere at once, presenting a front which was apparently unbroken so swiftly did he whirl and guard from side to side. But to prevent them from getting behind him, he was forced back, down past the pool and into the creek bed, till he brought up against a high gravel bank. He worked along to a right angle in the bank which the men had made in the course of mining, and in this angle he came to bay, protected on three sides and with nothing to do but face the front.
And so well did he face it, that at the end of half an hour the wolves drew back discomfited. The tongues of all were out and lolling, the white fangs showing cruelly white in the moonlight. Some were lying down with heads raised and ears pricked forward; others stood on their feet, watching him; and still others were lapping water from the pool. One wolf, long and lean and gray, advanced cautiously, in a friendly manner, and Buck recognized the wild brother with whom he had run for a night and a day. He was whining softly, and, as Buck whined, they touched noses.
Then an old wolf, gaunt and battle-scarred, came forward. Buck writhed his lips into the preliminary of a snarl, but sniffed noses with him. Whereupon the old wolf sat down, pointed nose at the moon, and broke out the long wolf howl. The others sat down and howled. And now the call came to Buck in unmistakable accents. He, too, sat down and howled. This over, he came out of his angle and the pack crowded around him, sniffing in half-friendly, half-savage manner. the leaders lifted the yelp of the pack and sprang away into the woods. The wolves swung in behind, yelping in chorus. And Buck ran with them, side by side with the wild brother, yelping as he ran.
And here may well end the story of Buck. The years were not many when the Yeehats noted a change in the breed of timber wolves; for some were seen with splashes of brown on head and muzzle, and with a rift of white centering down the chest. But more remarkable than this the Yeehats tell of a Ghost Dog that runs at the head of the pack. They are afraid of this Ghost Dog, for it has cunning greater than they, stealing from their camps in the fierce winters, robbing their traps, slaying their dogs, and defying their bravest hunters.
Nay, the tale grows worse. Hunters there are who fail to return to the camp, and hunters there have been whom their tribesmen found with throats slashed cruelly open and with wolf prints about them in the snow greater than the prints of any wolf. Each fall, when the Yeehats follow the movement of the moose, there is a certain valley which they never enter. And women there are who become sad when the word goes over the fire of how the Evil Spirit came to select that valley for an abiding-place.
In the summers there is one visitor, however, to that valley, of which the Yeehats do not know. It is a great, gloriously coated wolf, like, and yet unlike, all other wolves. He crosses alone from the smiling timber land and comes down into an open space among the trees. Here a yellow stream flows from rotted moose-hide sacks and sinks into the ground, with long grasses growing through it and vegetable mold overrunning it and hiding its yellow from the sun; and here he muses for a time, howling once, long and mournfully, ere he departs.
But he is not always alone. When the long winter nights come on and the wolves follow their meat into the lower valleys, he may be seen running at the head of the pack through the pale moonlight or glimmering borealis, leaping gigantic above his fellows, his great throat a-bellow as he sings a song of the younger world, which is the song of the pack.



第七章 呼唤之声

       巴克在五分钟里为约翰。桑顿赚了一千六百元,这就替主人还掉了所有的债务、并且使得他和他的合伙人一起去北极东部进行一次长途旅行成为可能。那里有废弃的矿区,矿区的历史和这个国家的历史一样古老。许多人都去那里寻找过宝物,可几乎没有人能够找到,还有为数不少的人在去那里之后根本就没有再回来过。那个废弃的矿区在陡峭险峻的高山上,那儿到处都弥漫着神秘的色彩,没有人知道谁是第一个去那里的人。最古老的传说说到第一个人时就停止了、不再有下文了。从一开始那里就有一间古老的、摇摇欲坠的小屋,说是死人曾去过那里;还说那间小屋就是矿区遗址的标志,那就是隐藏金块的证据。那里的天然金块,全然不象在北方地区发现的任何等级的金块。
  但是没有一个活着的人从那里掠夺过宝物,去的人都死了。这就是约翰。桑顿、皮特和汉斯,还有巴克和另六只狗就要去的:人和狗一直都是失败着的、毫无成功踪迹的北极东方。
  他们的雪橇划了七十英里到达了于肯地区,向左一转就进到了斯特瓦特河谷,经过了麻腰和麦块思申小河湾,又一直沿着斯特瓦特河向前,直到该河变成了一条小溪流,像一根线似的从陡立的山顶上泻了下来。那山顶是本大陆的最高峰,这座山脉就是本大陆的脊梁。
  约翰。桑顿几乎就没有问过有关这个地区的人和自然界方面的事情,他不怕这种荒凉。只要有盐和来福熗,他就能一头扎进这无边无际的荒野之中,想去哪里就去哪里。他一直都不性急,不在乎印第安风俗。一路上,白天他靠打猎吃饭。一旦这天打不到东西,他就会像印第安人一样,继续前进。他的旅行知识是靠得住的,他知道迟早都会遇到猎物的。因此,在这次伟大的东部之行中,直接的菜单就是他弹药下的肉食,而弹药和工具是装在雪橇上的,时间表是由无限的将来所决定的。
  对巴克来说这还有无限的乐趣:就这个样子打猎,这个样子钓鱼,这个样子在陌生的地方无穷地奔跑。有时,十几天他们一直往前走。一天又一天,走上十几天,他们就会停下来。不管到哪里,狗们就会到处去混日子、闲逛,而人呢,就挖洞、用冻僵了的兽粪生火、在火头上洗那没完没了的脏锅、脏碗。有时他们一直挨饿,没有什么东西可吃;有时他们却无拘无束地过着放荡的日子,好象过节似的。所有这些都由游戏丰富不丰富,打猎的运气好不好来决定。夏天到了,狗们和人们背靠着背,坐在筏子上横过高山湖泊;或者坐在用从岸边挺拔的森林里砍下的巨木做成的细长小船上,在那些不知道名字的河流里上上下下。
  一月又一月,时间过来了,又离去了。他们在这无边无缘、没有被画进地图、没有人来过的、如果真有那间小屋也许就有人来过的地区穿来穿去。
  夏天,他们曾被大风大雨吹得四分五散;冬天,他们曾在林带线和永久雪线之间光秃秃的山顶上,在冷冰冰的午夜日光下冻得瑟瑟发抖;还曾掉进山谷里,身处在成群的蚊虫和苍蝇中;而在冰河的阴凉中采集到的草莓和鲜花,和在引以自豪的南方采集到的一样多、一样好。
  在这年的秋天,他们陷进了一个不可思议的多湖地区。这个地区暗淡、荒凉而又寂静。这里曾经有过各种野禽,但这时却毫无生命,也没有任何生命的迹象——只有阵阵冷风吹过,随处可见冰雪的痕迹,潺潺流水孤独而忧郁地泛着阵阵浪花。
  又一个冬天,他们漫游在一个曾有人到过可踪迹却已湮没了的地区。一次,他们来到一条通往森林的小路,这是一条古代的小路,好象是离那间传说中的小屋很近了。可是这条小路不知道起于何地、终于何处,路上到处补满了玄机。谁开的这条路、以及他为什么要开出这条路都充满着神秘。
  又有一次,他们偶然见到一间样子像古墓、早已损坏了的打猎人用的小屋。在那些腐烂了的毛毯碎片中,约翰。桑顿发现了一个长桶似的燧石发火装置,他知道这个装置是用在早期西北地区哈德森海湾公司制造的熗上的。当时这样的一只熗能值包裹住它高度那么厚的所有海狸毛皮的价钱。除此以外,关于建造了这间小屋、把熗留在毯子里的早年间的这个人就再没有什么东西了。
  春天又来了。
  他们漫游到了一条勉强能称得上是路的尽头。在那里,他们没有发现那间迷失的小屋,而是在一个宽阔的山谷里,发现了一个含有金粒矿砂的浅地。这里,金子像是横过洗衣盆底部的黄油似地闪着光。他们再也不用往前去寻找更多的了,他们决定就在这里干,哪儿都不去了。每天他们工作着,赚到几千元洁净的金沙和天然金块。他们日复一日地干着,金子装进了驼鹿皮做成的袋子里,五十磅装一袋,堆起来有那么多,如同云杉树枝搭成的小屋外面的柴火堆一样高。他们就像力大无比的巨人一样苦干着,日子也像做梦一样一天天地过去。他们的财富堆积得越来越高。
  狗们没什么事,只是时不时地拖一网桑顿猎到的肉过来吃。巴克长时间地在火边冥思苦想着,那个短腿长发人的幻影经常被它想起。此刻没有多少事可做。那个人的影子就经常在火边眨眼,巴克和这个人在它能忆起的另一个世界里到处漫游着。
  这另一个世界里最突出的东西就是恐怖。那位长发人睡在火边时,巴克观查着:他的头放在膝盖之间,两手互相紧握着。巴克看见他睡得很不安稳,有许多动作,表明他始终醒着;不时地,这个人会在黑暗中恐怖地、朦朦胧胧地出现,把更多的木头扔进火里。巴克能感到它和这个人沿着海边在走,长发人拣着贝壳,边拣边吃;眼睛滴溜溜地转着,提防着随处隐藏着的危险,双腿则随时准备好,只要危险一出现就要像风一样去奔跑;巴克又和他无声地爬着穿过森林,巴克跟在长发人的后面,他们各自分开、互相警戒着。他们两个耳朵扯动着、鼻孔哆嗦着。因为这个人和巴克一样,都敏捷地听到了什么、闻到了什么;长发人能荡到树丛中,能在树梢上行走,速度快得和在地上行走一样。他用手抓住树枝荡来荡去,有时能一下子荡过去十几英尺,又一把抓住树枝,从不失败,从不掉在地上。实际上,他呆在树上的家里就和呆在地上的家里一样。巴克想起来了,不管在什么地方它在树下守夜时,这个长发人都是双手紧紧地抓住树枝,睡在它头顶上的树上的。
  和这个长发人的影子同样虚幻的是,在森林深处有一种声音在呼唤。这种声音使巴克的心中充满了不安,充满了陌生的欲望,这使它感到非常模糊。为此它经常发呆,并有一种甜蜜的愉快感。因为终究不知道这声音到底是什么,因而它就判断:这是一种野性的怀念,野性的躁动。有时它追赶这种声音直到森林深处。它到处寻找,仿佛这是一种实实在在的东西。它轻声地叫着,但是很明显,它的声音小、胆却很大,有一种反抗的意思。它的这种心情是可以控制的。它会把它的鼻子伸到冷冷的木头上、伸到那些苔藓里;或者伸进黑色的土壤里,那里生长着茁壮的绿草。每当闻到这肥沃土地上的气息,它的心中就充满了愉快;或者它会好几个小时地蹲在那里,仿佛在执行着埋伏的任务。它的身后是霉菌复盖着的、倒下去的大树干。它大睁着双眼、支起双耳,机敏地捕捉着它能听到、看到的一切。这极可能是——就算是在自我欺骗吧,它对这种它所不能理解的呼唤感到很是吃惊。它确实不知道为什么要关心这些:乱七八糟的这一切东西,它是被推着这样去关心的。对此它没有任何理由。
  不可抵抗的冲动掌握了它。它会躺在营地上,懒懒地在日头下打瞌睡。但是它的头会突然抬起、耳朵突然翘起,专心地去听;它会猛地跳起、冲过去,冲啊、跑啊,这样子地奔跑几个小时。它会跑过森林里的小道,穿过那些长满了一束束叫不上名字、北极地区特有的黑色植被的开阔地带;它爱跑到下面干枯的河道里;它爱偷偷地爬到树丛中窥探小鸟们的生活。白天的某个时候,它会躺在树丛的下面,观看鹧鸪鸟咕咕地鸣叫;另一些时候,它则在树林中大摇大摆地走来走去;它尤其喜欢在夏天的子夜里跑进朦胧的月光下,倾听大森林睡眠中柔和的喃喃声。像人类阅读书籍一样,它也要试图去弄懂那些符号、听懂那些声音,追寻那种神秘:那种呼唤、那种醒着时候的、或是睡着时候的呼唤,那种自始至终都在让它去关心的东西。
  一天晚上,它从睡梦中惊醒、睁开了热切的双眼、颤抖的鼻孔灵敏地嗅着、全身毛发竖起、形成了一个个波浪。从森林深处又传来了那种呼唤。(或是那种呼唤的一个音调。这种呼唤一直都被巴克记录着,有多种音调)这次呼唤:音色分明,音调准确,过去从没有过——这是一种拖得很长的嗥叫。巴克知道这种嗥叫:这是一种古老的、从远古时代一直传到如今的嗥叫,连嗥叫的方式都是一摸一样的。就像以前听到这种嗥叫一样,巴克穿过了沉睡的草地,快速而平静地猛冲过树丛。它接近了这种嗥叫声,越是接近,它就走得越慢。它小心地迈着每一步,终于走到林中的一个开阔地。它挺起腰来,抬头向前看去,原来那是一只像木头似的、斜立着长长的细身材、鼻孔正冲天而叫的狼。
  巴克没有弄出任何声音。那只狼停止了嗥叫,感到了它的存在。巴克大大方方地摆了个姿势,半蹲半坐着、身体简洁地收拢在一起、尾巴又直又硬、四肢不屈服地踏在地上。巴克的每一个动作都混合着恐吓、还暗示着一种友好,这是一种使野兽和被掠夺者之间的会面濒于休战的表示。但是这只狼还是逃离了它的视线。巴克带着野性的跳跃跟随着,狂暴地扑了过去。巴克跟随着那只狼进到了一条黑黑的通道,在小河的河床上,有一大堆木头挡住了去路。那只狼旋转了起来,以它的后腿为轴心、用巴克以前的队友乔的时髦动作、以及所有那些被逼到困镜中的、声音嘶哑了的狗们的疯狂咆哮着,毛发高高地竖起、龇着牙咧着嘴、连续、快速、成功地猛扑、猛咬着。
  巴克没有进攻,而是用一种友好的态度,围着它转着圈。这只狼有点迟疑,有点害怕,因为巴克的身体有它三倍大,而它的脑袋只及巴克的肩膀那么高。看见巴克过来了,它猛地又跑开了。追击又重新开始了。
  过了一会儿,那狼又被俘获了,刚才发生的事情又重新做了一遍。显然这狼的各方面条件都很差,不如巴克。但巴克却也很难抓住它。一等巴克的头到了它的侧面,它就会跑,就会旋转着穷叫大喊,一有机会就会跑开。
  但到最后巴克的顽强终于被这只狼所接纳。因为它靠鼻子去闻,终于发现:巴克根本就不想伤害它。于是它们就变得友好了,开始半害羞地、有点过敏地、违背了它们那种野兽的凶狠劲而玩到一起了。这样地过了一会儿,这只狼用一种大步子来表示它要到什么地方去了,它很明白地向巴克表示它还要过来。于是它们就肩并肩地穿过了阴沉沉的朦胧,直向着小河湾的河床上跑去,跑进了小河流出的峡口,跨过了一个荒凉的分水岭。那里是小河的发源地。
  沿着小河的那一面斜坡,它们下到了一个较低的地区,这里是一个巨大的向外延伸的森林。森林里有许多河流。它们平静地跑过了这个巨大的森林,跑了一小时又一小时。太阳越升越高了,天气越来越暖和了。
  巴克大喜过望,它知道它正在对那种“呼唤”做出最后的回答。它并肩和它的像木头似的狼兄弟朝着那个地方跑去。旧时的记忆很快向它袭来,它被惹起了性子、跑起了兴趣,它渴望地要想见一见这种“呼唤”的影子,那怕是鬼的影子也好。它以前已经做过这种事情了:那是在一个什么地方,在一个它能模模糊糊记忆起来的世界。现在它又要原样地把这事再做一遍了。此刻,它是那样地自由自在,在空旷开阔的土地上奔跑。大地就在脚下,蓝天就在头上。
  它们跑到一条溪流边停了下来,喝起了水。巴克想起了约翰。桑顿,于是它就坐了下来。那只像木头似的狼向着那个确实传来“呼唤”的地方跑了去,然后又反身向巴克跑来,用鼻子闻闻它,做出种种动作,仿佛是在鼓励它跑过去。但巴克却慢慢地站起身,转回了头,向着来得路上走去。它的野兄弟走到它的跟前,陪着它走了一段美好的时光,在这一段美好的时光里,对它反悔的举动轻轻地、软软地悲鸣着。巴克又坐了下来,鼻子向天空伸去,大声地嗥叫了起来。这是一阵悲伤的嗥叫……巴克坚定地走在了回家的路上。它听着它的野兄弟们的悲鸣越来越模糊,越来越飘渺,一直消失在遥远的大森林里。
  约翰。桑顿吃晚饭时巴克冲回了营地,它向主人表达了狂暴的欢喜,把他推翻,爬在他的身上,舔着他的脸,咬着他的手——像个大傻瓜似的玩着。约翰。桑顿对这种玩法给出了一种特殊的回报:他抱着巴克前仰后合、笑着、乐着、深情地骂着。
  两天两夜,巴克没有离开营地,从没有离开过主人的视线。它跟着他、看着他工作、看着他吃饭、晚上看着他钻进毛毯里、早上看着他走出帐篷来。可是两天之后,那种“呼唤”从森林里又传了过来,比过去的声音更大、更急、更响。巴克又不安宁了,它又被它的野兄弟的影子缠住了。它又想起了分水岭的那片微笑的土地,又想起了和它并肩跨过那片大森林的木头兄弟。它又一次在树林中徘徊,但是却见不到它的野兄弟。虽然它整夜整夜地守侯在那里,可那种悲伤的嗥叫却再也没有传过来。
  它开始晚上在外面睡觉。有一度曾有好几个白天离开了营地、呆在了外面。有一次它跑到了小溪尽头的分水岭,下到了溪流间堆放木材的那快低地。在那里它漫游了整整一个星期,徒劳地寻找着它那位野兄弟的新踪迹。在这期间它咬死了一些小动物,用来充饥;它迈着轻松的大步,到处走着,好象从不疲倦;在那条不知在哪里就流进大海的宽阔大河里,它抓起了很多大麻哈鱼,而在抓鱼时也被遮天盖日的蚊虫咬了个够戗;随后它又在这段河边杀死了一头大黑熊。它无助而可怕地在森林中咆哮着。就是这样地,它就好象是经过了一场艰苦的战斗,这场战斗唤醒了潜藏在它身上最后的剩下来的残忍。两天之后,它又返回到它杀死那头大黑熊的地方,发现有十几只狼獾正围着那头死熊争吵。它像愚弄小玩意儿似的把它们驱散开,只剩下了两个,使它们不再吵了。
  巴克对血的渴望变得比以前更加强烈了。它是一个杀手,专门去捕食,就靠干这种事来谋生,孤单而独立。它觉得,只有靠自己勇猛力气的美德,才能得意扬扬地生存在这个世界上。在一个充满敌意的环境中,只有强者才能活下去。因为所有的这一切,它变得非常骄傲,这种骄傲传遍了它的全身。这种骄傲,在它的所有行动中都显现了出来,很鲜明地在它的每一块肌肉上起着作用,用简单明了的话来说:恰恰就是这种骄傲在驱使着巴克行动。这使得它光荣的皮毛比任何其它东西都更光荣,它的肌肉上、眼眉上飘逸着美丽的棕色色彩,胸脯正下方白色的毛发上散射着一种光亮。它很容易被错认为是一只巨大的狼,但它比它远古血统里最大的狼还要大。它从它的圣。伯纳犬的父辈那里继承了高大的身材和沉重的躯体;又从它的牧羊犬母亲那里,将它这种巨大的身材和沉重的躯体发展到了极点。它的肌肉是结结实实的狼的肌肉,可比任何狼的肌肉还要多、还要长;它的头不管从哪个角度看,都更宽、更阔,比所有巨大笨重的狼头都要大许多。它的狡猾是狼的狡猾,是那种野性的狡猾。它的智慧:那种综合了牧羊犬和圣。伯纳犬的智慧;加上现在这所有的一切:在这野蛮凶残的生存学校里它所经历的一切,以及从中获得的各种经验,知识。这一切,造就了它,使它成为一个可怕的生物。
  作为一个直接靠吃肉来生存的动物,它浑身上下充满了力气。况且它现在正处于生命的高潮期,年富力强、精力旺盛,生命的能量随处可见。当桑顿慈爱的大手抚摩它背的时候,能感到随处爆发的活力在皮毛下啪啪做响,能觉出每根毛发都在迸发出被囚禁在体内一触即发的力量。巴克的全身,从大脑到身体,生机勃勃,肌肉里的每根纤维都焕发着生气,都被激活到了剧烈的顶点。全身上下各个部位都配合得那么协调、那么平衡、那么丝丝入扣,那么饱满、那么不能再多一分、那么不能再少一厘,那样地恰到好处。但凡目力所见、听力所及,需要行动时,它都能像闪电那样予以快速地反应。凡是一只声嘶力竭、拼死拼命的狗在跳起来保卫自己,或进攻对手时所能采取的一切,巴克都能以两倍的速度和能力做到。它观查着每一个动作,倾听着每一个声音,用最少的时间做出最正确的判断。而这一点,在别的狗,则仅能做到只是听一听、看一看而已。巴克能在同一个时间里做到:发觉、判断、行动,三位一体。面对一件事,别的狗是先发觉、再判断、后行动。而在它,这三个动作,既是原因、又是结果。它这种对相关动作不需间隔时间的能力是如此的完美,以至于根本就分不清,它的哪个动作在先、哪个动作在后,这三个动作它是同时做出的。它的肌肉是那样地充满硬度,外面来的牙咬起来,就像咬上了钢铁做成的弹簧。生命的溪流流过了巴克的身体,恰似灿烂的潮水,那么狂烈、那么欢快。看来这股潮水,一旦变得消魂忘形,就会从它巴克的体内爆裂开来,迸发成涓涓细流,变化为无数个碎片,慷慨地冲向前去,冲向全世界。
  “我从来没见过这么一条狗!”一天约翰。桑顿说。当时他的伙伴们正看着巴克冲出营地。
  “上帝就是照着它的摸子把它造出来的。”皮特说。
  “太棒了!我想我再也找不出什么话来形容它了。”汉斯断言。
  他们看着它冲出了营地,但他们没有看见,它在冲进森林的秘密地方之后的那种可怕的变化。
  巴克不再往前冲了,它马上变成了一个野蛮的东西。什么柔软的动作、像猫似的行走都丢掉了。快速奔跑的影子,在更加疯狂的影子中出现了、消失了、又出现了、又消失了。它知道如何去获得每一个借口能带来的利益;它把肚子贴在地面像蛇一样地爬行,并像蛇一样地跳跃和进攻;它能不被发现地从窝里弄到一只松鸡;能无声无息地杀死一只睡着了的兔子;它能咬死一只飞过半空的花栗鼠,并且把时间算得恰倒好处,若再稍迟一点,那花栗鼠就飞进树丛中去了;在开阔的水池子里,鱼的动作对它来说就太慢了,海狸也没有它快。它把它们抓住吃了,还能小心翼翼地修复好被弄坏了的堤坝。它杀死它们,是为了吃掉它们,是为了填饱肚子;不是为了嬉笑打闹。但它宁愿去吃它亲自杀死的,而不愿去吃那些已经死了的东西。因此,一种潜在的滑稽就贯穿在它的行动中:它喜欢偷偷地接近松鼠。而一旦它抓住了这只松鼠,它又会把它放开,在树尖上用一种使松鼠们感到有种致命恐怖地和它们瞎聊,闲扯。
  随着秋天的到来,驼鹿(产于北美的一种大鹿——译者。)大量地出现了。它们轻轻地移动着脚步,在低凹、严酷的峡谷里迎接着即将到来的冬天。巴克已经拖倒了一头迷路的、就要长大的小驼鹿,但它强烈地希望能得到一个更大一些、更凶一些、更可怕一些的猎物。
  一天,它来到了分水岭,走到了小河的尽头,就遇见了这样的一头。一队有大约二十头的驼鹿已经走过了溪流和木材区,为首的是一头巨大的公驼鹿。这头公驼鹿性情狂野,站在地上有六英尺高,是一个甚至连巴克都希望的那种凶恶可怕的敌手。巴克走了上去,这头公驼鹿突然抬起了它那巨大的手掌状的鹿角。这鹿角分开有十四个点、漫开有七英尺宽。公驼鹿的小眼睛里燃烧着刻毒的火焰,露出恐怖的凶光。它吼叫着凶狠地看着巴克。公驼鹿的上半身有一处露出了一只羽毛弓箭的末端,这更加衬托了它的凶野。
  受一种蛮荒世界的、古老狩猎时代的本能驱使,巴克把这头公驼鹿从鹿群中分了出来。这可不是一件轻松的工作。它在公驼鹿前大声地吼叫、放肆地跳跃。站在那巨大的公驼鹿以及可怕的鹿蹄子前,若稍有不慎,公驼鹿只需轻轻一击,巴克就会命丧黄泉。公驼鹿无法转身,面对巴克獠牙的危险和咄咄逼人的劲头,它变得狂怒了,于是鹿劲大发,它向巴克进攻了。巴克狡猾地躲开了,用一种无能力跑开的假象引诱着公驼鹿。巴克用这种方法,把公驼鹿从鹿群中分离开来。这时有两三头小驼鹿从后面冲了上来,试图将受伤的公驼鹿救回去,好让它再回到鹿群中间。
  有一种野狗般的、不知疲倦的、像生命本身一样坚韧不拔的耐心。这种耐心可以保持一个动作,在没完没了的几个小时里一动不动。蜘蛛网里的蜘蛛;盘成圈的蛇;草丛中守侯着的豹,它们都具备这种耐心。这种耐心尤其属于有生命的东西,尤其属于当这种生命在猎取它赖以生存的食物的时候。这种耐心巴克也有。它缠在驼鹿群的周围,减慢着进攻的速度,以便激怒那些小驼鹿,骚扰那些小驼鹿来使大驼鹿们担心,挑起它们无助的愤怒而使受伤的公驼鹿更加疯狂。这种状况持续了半天之久。巴克的勇气不断地增加着,从各个方位发起进攻。旋风般的威胁包围着这只驼鹿群,分散了的驼鹿一被巴克咬倒,其余的就又聚集在一起。但是这些驼鹿们的耐心越来越少,动作越来越急噪,失误越来越多。
  一天的时间用完了,太阳落在了西北方的河床下。(黑暗返回了,秋天的夜晚只有六个小时)年轻的驼鹿们折回了它们的脚步,越来越勉强地围住了它们的领袖。日益临近的冬天正蹂躏着这些处在低纬度的驼鹿们,看来它们将永远不能摆脱掉这个不知疲倦的家伙了。这家伙一次次地把它们拦住,它唯一要得到的东西就是它们的命,它对命这种东西的兴趣要比其它任何东西大得多。到了战斗的终点,它们只能付出越来越多的死伤数字。
  随着夜幕的降临,老公驼鹿站在那里,头更低了。它悲切地看着它的伙伴们——它所了解的这些母驼鹿们、它父亲般地统帅着的这些小驼鹿们、以及它所掌握着的所有这些驼鹿们——它们踉踉跄跄地走在正快速衰弱了的光线里,脚步乏力而急迫。老公驼鹿是不能再跟着它们走下去了。老公驼鹿把鼻子猛地冲向巴克那残忍的獠牙、那不让它走开的恐怖前……。三百磅呀,比巴克的体重还多一倍呐!它,这头公驼鹿,曾经活得那么长、曾有那么强的生命力、在它的生命中曾经充满了那么多的战斗和奋争,它都挺过来了。但是此刻,在这最后的关头,在这样的一个动物的牙齿前、这动物的头还没有达到过它那有着巨大关节的膝盖呢,它却面对着死亡!
  从那一刻起,不管是天黑还是天亮,巴克就再也不放过它的这个猎物,再也不给它的这个牺牲者以片刻的休息了。它不容许其余的那些驼鹿们去吃嫩条、嫩叶或是什么桦树、柳树的枝枝芽芽;而当这头受伤的老公驼鹿在跨过那些狭长细小的溪流、意欲消除掉它那燃烧着的干渴、要去喝水时,巴克是怎么都不会给它这种机会的。很经常地,那些驼鹿们拼死地跑上了一条长长的逃跑之路,在这种时候巴克不是试图去拦住它们,而是大步地慢跑、轻松地跟在它们的后面,以满意的心情看着这种游戏进行下去。而当驼鹿们停在那里,它还干脆就躺在那里;可一旦它们要力争去吃、去喝时,它就猛烈地向它们进攻。
  老公驼鹿那巨大的头在鹿角的下面垂得越来越低了,步履蹒跚的步子迈得越来越虚弱了。它终于只能仅仅是沉溺于长时间地站立在那里,鼻子贴在地面上,沮丧的耳朵耷拉了下来。巴克也终于找到更多的时间为自己了,它有更多的时间去饮水、去休息了。在这种时候,它红色的、懒洋洋的舌头垂了下来,大口大口地喘着气,那双眼睛死死地盯着大公驼。巴克看来终于要下手了,它能感到大地在颤动。
  当这些驼鹿们跑进这块土地时,其它种类的生物也在跑进来。森林、溪流和空气看上去早就为各种类别生物的存在而颤动了。这种颤动的信息一直使巴克忍住,它不靠视力、不靠听力,也不靠嗅觉,只靠一些别的难以琢磨的什么感官,就能确确实实地感觉到这种颤动。它听不见什么特别的、也看不见什么异样的,可它能知道,这块土地是有点儿不同东西的。这种不同的、奇怪的东西通过这块土地,已经在进行中、蔓延中,巴克决心在它完成了眼前这件事情后,就着手去好好地调查一翻、研究一翻,看看这到底是什么。
  在第四天结束的时候,巴克终于最后咬倒了这头巨大的公驼鹿。用了一天一夜的时间,它把它杀死了,吃了它的肉,它睡了下来,转过头来四下里张望着。休息了一会儿后,它的力气又重新恢复了过来,它觉得比以前更强壮了。它把脸转向了营地、转向了约翰。桑顿。它突然开始大步地慢跑了起来,它跑呀、跑呀,跑过了一小时又一小时。在杂乱无章的路上它知道该往哪里去,它有一个明确的方向,它要穿过这陌生的土地,它要跑到那个人的跟前。这方向,那人,都仿佛是一根有很强吸引力的针,刺得它羞愧。
  它往前跑着,越来越感到大地有一种新的涌动,在这块森林里分明还有一种更宽广的生命,这种生命不同于巴克在整个夏天能感觉到的所有的生命。这已是一个很明显的事实了。这个事实已经用某种微妙的秘密方式被它感觉到了,不再折磨它了。鸟们在谈论着这个事实,松鼠们在闲聊着这个事实,微风也在耳语着这个事实。有好几次它停了下来,深深地呼吸着清晨的新鲜空气,思考着这个事实,思考着这个使它更快速地跳跃、更快速地向前奔跑的事实。巴克被一种要发生灾难的感觉压迫着,如果这种已经发生了的事情不是灾难的话,但是它却还是觉得有一种压迫感。当它跨过了最后的溪流,跑在通向营地的山谷之中,它向前奔跑着,那种警惕的感觉更大了。
  离营地还有三英里,巴克看到了一种新鲜的踪迹。这种新鲜的踪迹使它脖子上的毛发起了波浪,竖了起来。它沿着这踪迹径直跑向营地,向着约翰。桑顿跑去。巴克急急忙忙地跑着、飞速地、秘密地、每一根神经都绷紧了、拉直了。它机敏地注意到了还有更多踪迹的细节。这里每一个细节都在讲述着一个故事——一个从头到尾的故事。它在营地里走来走去,鼻子告诉了它,这里的生命信息已经改变了。它默默地在森林里观察着、酝酿着。鸟们已经消失了,松鼠们也都藏了起来。只有,只有一个,它看见了——一个浑身滚圆的、灰色的家伙,躺在那里。一根失去了光泽、也是灰色的肢体被砍了下来,斜靠在他的身上。这肢体是这家伙身上的,如同在平整的木头上突出地长出了又一块似的。
  巴克在幽暗的阴影里溜了过去,它的鼻子突然撞在了什么东西上。巴克明显地用力拉了它一下、又推了它一下,然后它凭着嗅觉在灌木丛中发现了尼哥。尼哥侧身躺着,显然是曾挣扎着爬向什么地方,而在中途死了。一支羽毛箭穿透了尼哥的身体,箭的两端都露在了体外。
  一百码开外,巴克走到了一只约翰。桑顿从道森买来的雪橇狗的跟前。这只狗是在生死搏斗中被用大棒打死的,它就躺在路上。巴克没有停,绕过了它。从营地里传来了很多种微弱的声音,高高低低地好象在唱着圣歌。巴克肚子贴在地面上,爬了过去,它看见了汉斯:脸向下爬着,像一只被羽毛箭射中而亡的箭猪。与此同时巴克向一个方向凝视着,桦木小屋里所看到的东西使它怒发冲冠,毛发直立,难以抑制的一阵狂怒席卷了它的全身。它不知道它是在咆哮,它的咆哮是可怕的、残忍而恐怖的。因为这是它有生以来,最后一次容许它愤怒的情欲狡猾地、有理由地奔涌而出,因为它极为热爱的约翰。桑顿失去了他的脑袋。
  正在桦木小屋外面跳舞的印第安人听到了这令人恐怖的咆哮,看到一只他们从没有见到过的、活生生恰似旋风般皮毛的动物向他们扑来,要毁灭他们。巴克扑在了最主要人(这些印第安人的首领)的身上,绝妙地撕开了他的喉咙,使他颈部的峡谷喷涌出了鲜红的泉流。它一不做、二不休,把它的牺牲者撕来扯去。接着,它又一跃而起,抓住了第二个人,也撕开了他的喉咙。没有人能抓住它。它冲进了这些人的中间,撕着、扯着、毁灭着。它迅速地运动着,这种运动藐视着一切向它射来的弓箭。实际上,它的动作是难以想象的快,而这些印第安人又是那样地混乱不堪,他们集聚在了一起,乱纷纷成了一锅粥。结果是他们射去了一支又一支的弓箭,但没有一支射中。有一位年轻射手,猛地将一支梭镖投向跃起在空中的巴克。梭镖投射的力气是那样的大,以至于穿过了另一个年轻射手的胸脯,穿透了他背后的肉,扎在了地上,而那位年轻射手却直挺挺地立在了那里。印第安人大惊失色,惊恐万方地逃向森林。一路跑一路惊呼:“魔鬼来了!魔鬼来了!”巴克真的是魔鬼的肉体化身了。它四肢疯狂地奔跑着,把那些印第安人像拖那头大公驼鹿似的,从森林中间拖了出来。这是印第安人致命的日子。他们四散逃命,直到一周以后,那些未死者聚集到了一个低谷中,悲伤地数着他们损失的人数。而巴克还不知疲倦地追赶着……最后它回到了那个令它悲哀的营地。它找到了皮特。他被杀死在他的毯子里,满脸露着惊恐的神色。桑顿奋不顾身地搏斗、挣扎的痕迹在地上历历在目。巴克凭着鼻息查找着每一个细节,一直走到深深的池塘旁边。水边,斯给特躺在那里,头和前腿浸泡在水里,它一直战斗到了最后。池塘本身,河水从水闸那里流过来,翻卷着金沙,又渐渐地变清。浑浊的水里藏着很多东西,也藏着约翰。桑顿的头。巴克跟着桑顿头的气味走进了水里,周围再也没有什么其它痕迹了。
  一整天,巴克都是在池塘边沉思着,无休止地围着营地转来转去。死亡就是运动的停止,就是活力从活物体内的出走,就是无声无息的躯体,这它知道。它知道约翰。桑顿死了,这给它流下了无限的惆怅,这多少有点像饥饿。但是饥饿能够用食物来填补,可是惆怅却使它疼痛了又疼痛。时不时地,当它停下来凝视那些印第安人的尸体时,它才能暂时忘记这些疼痛。在这种时候,它就陷进了对自己的无限骄傲之中。这种骄傲之大,大过了它以往的任何经历。它杀过人了!这是一种最高贵的游戏了。它在大棒和獠牙这种法律的威胁之下已经杀过人了。它好奇地闻着这些尸体,他们死得太容易了!杀死一条声嘶力竭的狗要比杀死人费事多了,人和狗在被杀死这一点上一点儿都不相配。要不是因为人有弓箭、大棒和梭镖,他们就没有什么了不起。从今往后它巴克再也用不着怕他们这些人了,除非他们手里正好就拿着弓箭、大棒和梭镖。
  夜来了,一轮明月高高地挂在树梢上的天空里。月光撒在大地上,沐浴着这魔鬼般的土地。随着夜晚得到来,巴克坐在池塘边,心中涌上了一阵阵的悲哀。巴克在这座森林里如今变得全身充满了活力,涌动着一股股新的、生命的力量,它觉得这都是印第安人给它造就的。它站了起来,倾听着、四下里用鼻子使劲地嗅着、眼睛观察着。从远处飘来了一阵弱弱的、轻微的尖叫声,紧接着又传来了这种尖叫声的大合唱。这种尖叫声的大合唱越来越近、越来越近。这声音使巴克回忆起了另一个世界。它走到了林中开阔地的中央,倾听着。这是一种呼唤,它多次领教过这种呼唤,这种呼唤的声音里充满了太多的诱惑,而这种诱惑此刻也对它产生了比以前更大的强迫力。过去它从没有动过心,但是现在,它准备要服从了。约翰。桑顿死了,最后的纽带断了。人、以及人的主张、人的要求,都不再捆绑住巴克、也不能再束缚住巴克了!
  在那群大驼鹿的侧面,是一大群狼。就像印第安人狩猎这群驼鹿那样,在吃完了那些活驼鹿们的肉后,这群狼最后终于跨过了溪流和木材林入侵到了巴克的谷地。在月光的清晰照耀下,这些狼们像一条流动着的银色河流。
  在开阔地的中央,清清楚楚地站着巴克。它一动不动,像一尊雕象,静侯着狼们的到来。狼们很害怕。巴克站在那里,那么镇静、那么庞大。片刻的静止后,最勇敢的一只向它直直冲来。像闪电一样,巴克跳了起来,猛地一口咬住了对方的脖子。然后它又站住了,又是一动不动。被咬破脖子的狼在它身后痛苦地滚动着。又有三只过来想试一下,尖利的嗥叫混在一起。但是一只接一只地,它们也退了回去,血拄从喉咙和肩膀上的深深裂口处喷涌而出。
  这下够了,整个狼群都向前猛冲了过来,拥挤、堵塞、你碰我、我踏你,狼们掠夺的热情高涨。巴克以其不可思议的快捷,稳稳地挺住了。它以后腿为中心,快速地咬着每一只冲向前来的狼。它一次只咬一下,每一口都咬快、咬深、咬透。不一会儿,它的前后就躺满了受伤动不了的狼。它飞快地旋转着,保护着它的四面八方。为了防止狼们从后面袭击,它被迫后退,先退到了池塘边,又退到了小河湾的河床上,再退到高高的沙砾岸上……它沿着河岸后退着,一直退到了在这里开矿的人挖就的一个角落里。在这个角落里它可以获得三面的保护,而只需面对前方。
  这个位置太好了!半个小时后,狼们终于乱纷纷地后退了。在溃逃中,它们发出的所有语言和音调都衰竭而软弱,白色的獠牙在月光下闪着寒冷的光。一些受伤的狼努力地抬起头来,向上支着耳朵;另一些爬在那里看着巴克;还有一些在池塘里吸着水。一只狼,身材硕长、瘦瘠而灰白,好奇而冒险地用一种友好的方式向巴克看着。巴克认出来了,就是那位和它一起奔跑了一天一夜的木头兄弟。木头兄弟悲切地、软软地叫着。巴克也悲叫了一声。它们的鼻子碰在了一起。
  然后,一只老狼,满脸憔悴、满身伤疤,慢慢地向它们走来。巴克扭了一下嘴唇,准备咆哮。木头兄弟用鼻子闻了闻它。那只老狼坐了下来,鼻孔指向月亮,爆发出了一声长长的嗥叫。其余的狼都坐了下来,也都嗥叫了起来。现在巴克不会弄错了,它听出了:是那种声音,那种呼唤的声音!它也坐下来嚎叫了起来。嗥叫完了,它走进了它的角落,狼们走了过来,用那种半是友好、半是野蛮的方式闻着它。领头的狼兴奋地尖叫了一声,猛地转身冲向了森林,狼们都跳了起来跟在后面。尖叫声形成了大合唱。巴克也跟在它们的后面,和它那位木头兄弟肩并肩地跑进了大森林。它跑着、跳着、尖声地大叫着。
  到这里,巴克的故事可以圆满地结束了。
                 
  过了不多年之后,印第安人注意到,森林里狼们的种类中有了一种变化。有人看见:这些狼中有一些的头上和口、鼻四周都有棕褐色的毛发在闪耀,而在胸口下半部则有一条白色的色条。然而更为异常的是:印第安人经常讲起一条鬼狗,它比所有的狼都动人、都狡猾。它经常在最寒冷的冬天从他们的营地里偷东西;掠夺他们的行李,杀死他们的看家狗;对他们最勇敢的猎手都敢于藐视。
  不仅如此,还有更邪乎的。当那些印第安猎手们在外跑了一整天、空张着两只手、疲乏无力地走回营地时,他们发现:他们留在营地里的那些部族们的喉咙被残忍地撕开了,雪地上到处都是狼群的痕迹,这些痕迹比他们过去所见到过的狼的痕迹要大得多;每年秋天,当印第安人跟随在那些驼鹿的后面,他们就肯定会走进一条他们从没有进去过的山谷。于是就有谣言传来说,是那些鬼精灵精心地挑选了这些山谷,要用这些山谷给这些跟着驼鹿走的人做一个舒心的寓所,然后再放一把火,好让他们好好地安息。而女人们听到这些话则悲伤极了。
  有好几个夏天,都会有一位参观者来到这条山谷、这条印第安人不认识、不知道的山谷。来者是一条巨大的、有一身极为华丽、壮美皮毛的狼,极像,也许一点都不象其它别的狼。它独自跨过了那块微笑着的木材之地,坐在树丛中开阔地的中央。一股黄色的液体从腐烂了的驼鹿皮囊下流了出来,向着远处流去,黄液流过的地方长出了一溜长长的青草,青草也向远处的沃土蔓延过去,在阳光下泛着泥土的黄色。这位参观者在这里沉思一会儿,然后仰天一声长啸。这一声听起来是那么悠长、那么悲伤!……然后它走了……
  但它也不总是孤独的。当长长的冬夜到来时,狼们追寻着它们的肉食,就会走进这个低谷,这位参观者能被看见就奔跑在狼群的前面。在苍白的月色下、或是在黎明的晨曦中,这位参观者领着它的部下大步地跳跃着。只要它巨大的喉咙一起声,狼们就唱起了一支属于更年轻世界的歌、那支狼群的歌!  


执素衣

ZxID:13389413


等级: 内阁元老
举报 只看该作者 5楼  发表于: 2013-10-08 0


CHAPTER 6

FOR THE LOVE OF A MAN

When John Thornton froze his feet in the previous December, his partners had made him comfortable and left him to get well, going on themselves up the river to get out a raft of saw-logs for Dawson. He was still limping slightly at the time he rescued Buck, but with the continued warm weather even the slight limp left him. And here, lying by the river bank through the long spring days, watching the running water, listening lazily to the songs of birds and the hum of nature, Buck slowly won back his strength.
A rest comes very good after one has traveled three thousand miles, and it must be confessed that Buck waxed lazy as his wounds healed, his muscles swelled out, and the flesh came back to cover his bones. For that matter, they were all loafing,--Buck, John Thornton, and Skeet and Nig--waiting for the raft to come that was to carry them down to Dawson. Skeet was a little Irish setter who early made friends with Buck, who, in a dying condition, was unable to resent her first advances. She had the doctor trait which some dogs possess; and as a mother cat washes her kittens, so she washed and cleansed Buck's wounds. Regularly, each morning after he had finished his breakfast, she performed her self-appointed task, till he came to look for her ministrations as much as he did for Thornton's. Nig, equally friendly though less demonstrative, was a huge black dog, half-bloodhound and half-deerhound, with eyes that laughed and a boundless good nature.
To Buck's surprise these dogs manifested no jealousy toward him. They seemed to share the kindliness and largeness of John Thornton. As Buck grew stronger they enticed him into all sorts of ridiculous games, in which Thornton himself could not forbear to join; and in this fashion Buck romped through his convalescence and into a new existence. Love, genuine passionate love, was his for the first time. This he had never experienced at Judge Miller's down in the sun-kissed Santa Clara Valley. With the Judge's sons, hunting and tramping, it had been a working partnership; with the Judge's grandsons, a sort of pompous guardianship; and with the Judge himself, a stately and dignified friendship. But love that was feverish and burning, that was adoration, that was madness, it had taken John Thornton to arouse.
This man had saved his life, which was something; but, further, he was the ideal master. Other men saw to the welfare of their dogs from a sense of duty and business expediency; he saw to the welfare of his as if they were his own children, because he could not help it. And he saw further. He never forgot a kindly greeting or a cheering word, and to sit down for a long talk with them--"gas" he called it--was as much his delight as theirs. He had a way of taking Buck's head roughly between his hands, and resting his own head upon Buck's, of shaking him back and forth, the while calling him ill names that to Buck were love names. Buck knew no greater joy than that rough embrace and the sound of murmured oaths, and at each jerk back and forth it seemed that his heart would be shaken out of his body, so great was its ecstasy. And when, released, he sprang to his feet, his mouth laughing, his eyes eloquent, his throat vibrant with unuttered sound, and in that fashion remained without movement, John Thornton would reverently exclaim, "God! you can all but speak!"
Buck had a trick of love expression that was akin to hurt. He would often seize Thornton's hand in his mouth and close so fiercely that the flesh bore the impress of his teeth for some time afterward. And as Buck understood the oaths to be love words, so the man understood this feigned bite for a caress.
For the most part, however, Buck's love was expressed in adoration. While he went wild with happiness when Thornton touched him or spoke to him, he did not seek these tokens. Unlike Skeet, who was wont to shove her nose under Thornton's hand and nudge and nudge till petted, or Nig, who would stalk up and rest his great head on Thornton's knee, Buck was content to adore at a distance. He would lie by the hour, eager, alert, at Thornton's feet, looking up into his face, dwelling upon it, studying it, following with keenest interest each fleeting expression, every movement or change of feature. Or, as chance might have it, he would lie farther away, to the side or rear, watching the outlines of the man and the occasional movements of his body. And often, such was the communion in which they lived, the strength of Buck's gaze would draw John Thornton's head around, and he would return the gaze, without speech, his heart shining out of his eyes as Buck's heart shone out.
For a long time after his rescue, Buck did not like Thornton to get out of his sight. From the moment he left the tent to when he entered it again, Buck would follow at his heels. His transient masters since he had come into the Northland had bred in him a fear that no master could be permanent. He was afraid that Thornton would pass out of his life as Perrault and Francois and the Scotch half-breed had passed out. Even in the night, in his dreams, he was haunted by this fear. At such times he would shake off sleep and creep through the chill to the flap of the tent, where he would stand and listen to the sound of his master's breathing.
But in spite of this great love he bore John Thornton, which seemed to bespeak the soft civilizing influence, the strain of the primitive, which the Northland had aroused in him, remained alive and active. Faithfulness and devotion, things born of fire and roof, were his; yet he retained his wildness and wiliness. He was a thing of the wild, come in from the wild to sit by John Thornton's fire, rather than a dog of the soft Southland stamped with the marks of generations of civilization. Because of his very great love, he could not steal from this man, but from any other man, in any other camp, he did not hesitate an instant; while the cunning with which he stole enabled him to escape detection.
His face and body were scored by the teeth of many dogs, and he fought as fiercely as ever and more shrewdly. Skeet and Nig were too good-natured for quarreling--besides, they belonged to John Thornton; but the strange dog, no matter what the breed or valor, swiftly acknowledged Buck's supremacy or found himself struggling for life with a terrible antagonist. And Buck was merciless. He had learned well the law of club and fang, and he never forewent an advantage or drew back from a foe he had started on the way to death. He had lessoned from Spitz, and from the chief fighting dogs of the police and mail, and knew there was no middle course. He must master or be mastered; while to show mercy was a weakness. Mercy did not exist in the primordial life. It was misunderstood for fear, and such misunderstandings made for death. Kill or be killed, eat or be eaten, was the law; and this mandate, down out of the depths of Time, he obeyed.
He was older than the days he had seen and the breaths he had drawn. He linked the past with the present, and the eternity behind him throbbed through him in a mighty rhythm to which he swayed as the tides and seasons swayed. He sat by John Thornton's fire, a broad-breasted dog, white-fanged and long-furred; but behind him were the shades of all manner of dogs, half wolves and wild wolves, urgent and prompting, tasting the savor of the meat he ate, thirsting for the water he drank, scenting the wind with him, listening with him and telling him the sounds made by the wild life in the forest; dictating his moods, directing his actions, lying down to sleep with him when he lay down, and dreaming with him and beyond him and becoming themselves the stuff of his dreams.
So peremptorily did these shades beckon him, that each day mankind and the claims of mankind slipped farther from him. Deep in the forest a call was sounding, and as often as he heard this call, mysteriously thrilling and luring, he felt compelled to turn his back upon the fire and the beaten earth around it, and to plunge into the forest, and on and on, he knew not where or why; nor did he wonder where or why, the call sounding imperiously, deep in the forest. But as often as he gained the soft unbroken earth and the green shade, the love for John Thornton drew him back to the fire again.
Thornton alone held him. The rest of mankind was as nothing. Chance travelers might praise or pet him; but he was cold under it all, and from a too demonstrative man he would get up and walk away. When Thornton's partners, Hans and Pete, arrived on the long-expected raft, Buck refused to notice them till he learned they were close to Thornton; after that he tolerated them in a passive sort of way, accepting favors from them as though he favored them by accepting. They were of the same large type as Thornton, living close to the earth, thinking simply and seeing clearly; and ere they swung the raft into the big eddy by the saw-mill at Dawson, they understood Buck and his ways, and did not insist upon an intimacy such as obtained with Skeet and Nig.
For Thornton, however, his love seemed to grow and grow. He, alone among men, could put a pack upon Buck's back in the summer traveling. Nothing was too great for Buck to do, when Thornton commanded. One day (they had grub-staked themselves from the proceeds of the raft and left Dawson for the head waters of the Tanana) the men and dogs were sitting on the crest of a cliff which fell away, straight down, to naked bedrock three hundred feet below. John Thornton was sitting near the edge, Buck at his shoulder. A thoughtless whim seized Thornton, and he drew the attention of Hans and Pete to the experiment he had in mind. "Jump, Buck!" he commanded, sweeping his arm out and over the chasm. The next instant he was grappling with Buck on the extreme edge, while Hans and Pete were dragging them back into safety.
"It's uncanny," Pete said, after it was over and they had caught their speech.
Thornton shook his head. "No, it is splendid, and it is terrible, too. Do you know, it sometimes makes me afraid."
"I'm not hankering to be the man that lays hands on you while he's around," Pete announced conclusively, nodding his head toward Buck.
"Py Jingo!" was Hans's contribution. "Not mineself either."
It was at Circle City, ere the year was out, that Pete's apprehensions were realized. "Black" Burton, a man evil tempered and malicious, had been picking a quarrel with a tenderfoot at the bar, when Thornton stepped good naturedly between. Buck, as was his custom, was lying in a corner, head on paws, watching his master's every action. Burton struck out, without warning, straight from the shoulder. Thornton was sent spinning, and saved himself from falling only by clutching the rail of the bar.
Those who were looking on heard what was neither bark nor yelp, but a something which is best described as a roar, and they saw Buck's body rise up in the air as he left the floor for Burton's throat. The man saved his life by instinctively throwing out his arm, but was hurled backward to the floor with Buck on top of him. Buck loosed his teeth from the flesh of the arm and drove in again for the throat. This time the man succeeded only in partly blocking, and his throat was torn open. Then the crowd was upon Buck, and he was driven off; but while a surgeon checked the bleeding, he prowled up and down, growling furiously, attempting to rush in, and being forced back by an array of hostile clubs. A "miners' meeting" called on the spot, decided that the dog had sufficient provocation, and Buck was discharged. But his reputation was made, and from that day his name spread through every camp in Alaska.
Later on, in the fall of the year, he saved John Thornton's life in quite another fashion. The three partners were lining a long and narrow poling boat down a bad stretch of rapids on the Forty Mile Creek. Hans and Pete moved along the bank, snubbing with a thin Manila rope from tree to tree, while Thornton remained in the boat, helping its descent by means of a pole, and shouting directions to the shore. Buck, on the bank, worried and anxious, kept abreast of the boat, his eyes never off his master.
At a particularly bad spot, where a ledge of barely submerged rocks jutted out into the river, Hans cast off the rope, and, while Thornton poled the boat out into the stream, ran down the bank with the end in his hand to snub the boat when it had cleared the ledge. This it did, and was flying down-stream in a current as swift as a mill-race, when Hans checked it with the rope and checked too suddenly. The boat flirted over and snubbed in to the bank bottom up, while Thornton, flung sheer out of it, was carried down-stream toward the worst part of the rapids, a stretch of wild water in which no swimmer could live.
Buck had sprung in on the instant; and at the end of three hundred yards, amid a mad swirl of water, he over-hauled Thornton. When he felt him grasp his tail, Buck headed for the bank, swimming with all his splendid strength. But the progress shoreward was slow; the progress down-stream amazingly rapid. From below came the fatal roaring where the wild current went wilder and was rent in shreds and spray by the rocks which thrust through like the teeth of an enormous comb. The suck of the water as it took the beginning of the last steep pitch was frightful, and Thornton knew that the shore was impossible. He scraped furiously over a rock, bruised across a second, and struck a third with crushing force. He clutched its slippery top with both hands, releasing Buck, and above the roar of the churning water shouted: "Go, Buck! Go!"
Buck could not hold his own, and swept on downstream, struggling desperately, but unable to win back. When he heard Thornton's command repeated, he partly reared out of the water, throwing his head high, as though for a last look, then turned obediently toward the bank. He swam powerfully and was dragged ashore by Pete and Hans at the very point where swimming ceased to be possible and destruction began.
They knew that the time a man could cling to a slippery rock in the face of that driving current was a matter of minutes, and they ran as fast as they could up the bank to a point far above where Thornton was hanging on. They attached the line with which they had been snubbing the boat to Buck's neck and shoulders, being careful that it should neither strangle him nor impede his swimming, and launched him into the stream. He struck out boldly, but not straight enough into the stream. He discovered the mistake too late, when Thornton was abreast of him and a bare half-dozen strokes away while he was being carried helplessly past.
Hans promptly snubbed with the rope, as though Buck were a boat. The rope thus tightening on him in the sweep of the current, he was jerked under the surface, and under the surface he remained till his body struck against the bank and he was hauled out. He was half drowned, and Hans and Pete threw themselves upon him, pounding the breath into him and the water out of him. He staggered to his feet and fell down. The faint sound of Thornton's voice came to them, and though they could not make out the words of it, they knew that he was in his extremity. His master's voice acted on Buck like an electric shock. He sprang to his feet and ran up the bank ahead of the men to the point of his previous departure.
Again the rope was attached and he was launched, and again he struck out, but this time straight into the stream. He had miscalculated once, but he would not be guilty of it a second time. Hans paid out the rope, permitting no slack, while Pete kept it clear of coils. Buck held on till he was on a line straight above Thornton; then he turned, and with the speed of an express train headed down upon him. Thornton saw him coming, and, as Buck struck him like a battering ram, with the whole force of the current behind him, he reached up and closed with both arms around the shaggy neck. Hans snubbed the rope around the tree, and Buck and Thornton were jerked under the water. Strangling, suffocating, sometimes one uppermost and sometimes the other, dragging over the jagged bottom, smashing against rocks and snags, they veered in to the bank.
Thornton came to, belly downward and being violently propelled back and forth across a drift log by Hans and Pete. His first glance was for Buck, over whose limp and apparently lifeless body Nig was setting up a howl, while Skeet was licking the wet face and closed eyes. Thornton was himself bruised and battered, and he went carefully over Buck's body, when he had been brought around, finding three broken ribs.
"That settles it," he announced. "We camp right here." And camp they did, till Buck's ribs knitted and he was able to travel.
That winter, at Dawson, Buck performed another exploit, not so heroic perhaps, but one that puts his name many notches higher on the totem pole of Alaskan fame. This exploit was particularly gratifying to the three men; for they stood in need of the outfit which it furnished, and were enabled to make a long-desired trip into the virgin East, where miners had not yet appeared. It was brought about by a conversation in the Eldorado Saloon, in which men waxed boastful of their favorite dogs. Buck, because of his record, was the target for these men, and Thornton was driven stoutly to defend him. At the end of half an hour one man stated that his dog could start a sled with five hundred pounds and walk off with it; a second bragged six hundred for his dog; and a third, seven hundred.
"Pooh! Pooh!" said John Thornton. "Buck can start a thousand pounds."
"And break it out, and walk off with it for a hundred yards?" demanded Matthewson, a Bonanza king, he of the seven hundred vaunt.
"And break it out, and walk off with it for a hundred yards," John Thornton said cooly.
"Well," Matthewson said, slowly and deliberately, so that all could hear, "I've got a thousand dollars that says he can't. And there it is." So saying, he slammed a sack of gold dust of the size of a bologna sausage down upon the bar.
Nobody spoke. Thornton's bluff, if bluff it was, had been called. He could feel a flush of warm blood creeping up his face. His tongue had tricked him. He did not know whether Buck could start a thousand pounds. Half a ton! The enormousness of it appalled him. He had great faith in Buck's strength and had often thought him capable of starting such a load; but never, as now, had he faced the possibility of it, the eyes of a dozen men fixed upon him, silent and waiting. Further, he had no thousand dollars; nor had Hans and Pete.
"I've got a sled standing outside now, with twenty fifty-pound sacks of flour on it," Matthewson went on with brutal directness; "so don't let that hinder you."
Thornton did not reply. He did not know what to say. He glanced from face to face in the absent way of a man who has lost the power of thought and is seeking somewhere to find the thing that will start it going again. The face of Jim O'Brien, a Mastodon king and old-time comrade, caught his eyes. It was a cue to him, seeming to rouse him to do what he would never have dreamed of doing.
"Can you lend me a thousand?" he asked, almost in a whisper.
"Sure," answered O'Brien, thumping down a plethoric sack by the side of Matthewson's. "Though it's little faith I'm having, John, that the beast can do the trick."
The Eldorado emptied its occupants into the street to see the test. The tables were deserted, and the dealers and gamekeepers came forth to see the outcome of the wager and to lay odds. Several hundred men, furred and mittened, banked around the sled within easy distance. Matthewson's sled, loaded with a thousand pounds of flour, had been standing for a couple of hours, and in the intense cold --it was sixty below zero--the runners had frozen fast to the hard-packed snow. Men offered odds of two to one that Buck could not budge the sled. A quibble arose concerning the phrase "break out." O'Brien contended it was Thornton's privilege to knock the runners loose, leaving Buck to "break it out" from a dead standstill. Matthewson insisted that the phrase included breaking the runners from the frozen grip of the snow. A majority of the men who had witnessed the making of the bet decided in his favor, whereat the odds went up to three to one against Buck.
There were no takers. Not a man believed him capable of the feat. Thornton had been hurried into the wager, heavy with doubt; and now that he looked at the sled itself, the concrete fact, with the regular team of ten dogs curled up in the snow before it, the more impossible the task appeared. Matthewson waxed jubilant.
"Three to one!" he proclaimed. "I'll lay you another thousand at that figure, Thornton, what do you say?"
Thornton's doubt was strong in his face, but his fighting spirit was aroused--the fighting spirit that soars above odds, fails to recognize the impossible, and is deaf to all save the clamor for battle. He called Hans and Pete to him. Their sacks were slim, and with his own the three partners could rake together only two hundred dollars. In the ebb of their fortunes, this sum was their total capital; yet they laid it unhesitatingly against Matthewson's six hundred.
The team of ten dogs was unhitched, and Buck, with his own harness, was put into the sled. He had caught the contagion of the excitement, and he felt that in some way he must do a great thing for John Thornton. Murmurs of admiration at his splendid appearance went up. He was in perfect condition, without an ounce of superfluous flesh, and the one hundred and fifty pounds that he weighed were so many pounds of grit and virility. His furry coat shone with the sheen of silk. Down the neck and across the shoulders, his mane, in repose as it was, half bristled and seemed to lift with every movement, as though excess of vigor made each particular hair alive and active. The great breast and heavy fore legs were no more than in proportion with the rest of his body, where the muscles showed in tight rolls underneath the skin. Men felt these muscles and proclaimed them hard as iron, and the odds went down to two to one.
"Gad, sir! Gad, sir!" stuttered a member of the latest dynasty, a king of the Skookum Benches. "I offer you eight hundred for him, sir, before the test; eight hundred just as he stands."
Thornton shook his head and stepped over to Buck's side.
"You must stand off from him," Matthewson protested. "Free play and plenty of room."
The crowd fell silent; only could be heard the voices of the gamblers vainly offering two to one. Everybody acknowledged Buck a magnificent animal, but twenty fifty-pound sacks of flour bulked too large in their eyes for them to loosen their pouch strings.
Thornton knelt down by Buck's side. He took his head in his hands and rested cheek on cheek. He did not playfully shake him, as was his wont, or murmur soft love curses; but he whispered in his ear. "As you love me, Buck. As you love me," was what he whispered. Buck whined with suppressed eagerness.
The crowd was watching curiously. The affair was growing mysterious. It seemed like a conjuration. As Thornton got to his feet, Buck seized his mittened hand between his jaws, pressing in with his teeth and releasing slowly, half-reluctantly. It was the answer, in terms, not of speech, but of love. Thornton stepped well back.
"Now, Buck," he said.
Buck tightened the traces, then slacked them for a matter of several inches. It was the way he had learned.
"Gee!" Thornton's voice rang out, sharp in the tense silence.
Buck swung to the right, ending the movement in a plunge that took up the slack and with a sudden jerk arrested his one hundred and fifty pounds. The load quivered, and from under the runners arose a crisp crackling.
"Haw!" Thornton commanded.
Buck duplicated the maneuver, this time to the left. The crackling turned into a snapping, the sled pivoting and the runners slipping and grating several inches to the side. The sled was broken out. Men were holding their breaths, intensely unconscious of the fact.
"Now, MUSH!"
Thornton's command cracked out like a pistol shot. Buck threw himself forward, tightening the traces with a jarring lunge. His whole body was gathered compactly together in the tremendous effort, the muscles writhing and knotting like live things under the silky fur. His great chest was low to the ground, his head forward and down, while his feet were flying like mad, the claws scarring the hard-packed snow in parallel grooves. The sled swayed and trembled, half-started forward. One of his feet slipped, and one man groaned aloud. The sled lurched ahead in what appeared a rapid succession of jerks, though it never really came to a dead stop again . . . half an inch . . . an inch . . . two inches . . . The jerks perceptibly diminished; as the sled gained momentum, he caught them up, till it was moving steadily along.
Men gasped and began to breathe again, unaware that for a moment they had ceased to breathe. Thornton was running behind, encouraging Buck with short, cheery words. The distance had been measured off, and as he neared the pile of firewood which marked the end of the hundred yards, a cheer began to grow and grow, which burst into a roar as he passed the firewood and halted at command. Every man was tearing himself loose, even Matthewson. Hats and mittens were flying in the air. Men were shaking hands, it did not matter with whom, and bubbling over in a general incoherent babel.
But Thornton fell on his knees beside Buck. Head was against head, and he was shaking him back and forth. Those who hurried up heard him cursing Buck, and he cursed him long and fervently, and softly and lovingly.
"Gad, sir! Gad, sir!" sputtered the Skookum Bench king. "I'll give you a thousand for him, sir, a thousand, sir--twelve hundred, sir."
Thornton rose to his feet. His eyes were wet. The tears were streaming frankly down his cheeks. "Sir," he said to the Skookum Bench king, "no, sir. You can go to hell, sir. It's the best I can do for you, sir."
Buck seized Thornton's hand in his teeth. Thornton shook him back and forth. As though animated by a common impulse, the onlookers drew back to a respectful distance; nor were they again indiscreet enough to interrupt.



第六章 为了一个人的爱

       约翰。桑顿十二月初冻伤了脚,他的合伙人把他留了下来养伤,而他们自己则坐着一个用锯木绑着的木排顺河去往道森。桑顿救巴克的时候腿就有点跛,随着天气渐渐变暖,他仍旧有点轻微的跛行。在这里,在这个漫长的春天里,巴克躺在河岸边,看着奔腾的水流,懒懒地听着小鸟的歌唱和大自然中的嗡嗡声……巴克慢慢地恢复了体力。
  在走过三千英里之后来一次长时间的休息是再好也没有的了。必须承认,巴克变懒了。当它的伤口愈合的时候,它的肌肉松弛了,骨架上的肉丰满了。一句话,它在混日子了,当然这还包括约翰。桑顿,还有斯给特和尼格——后两只狗在等木排回来再把它们带到道森去。
  斯给特是一只小身材的爱尔兰塞特种猎狗,它早就和巴克交上了朋友。而巴克当时处在一种垂死的状态下,对它先表示出来的母狗的那种亲近无法表示愤恨。斯给特有一种大夫般的特性,这种特性许多母狗都有。像猫妈妈给小猫洗脸一样,它洗干净了巴克身上的伤口。定期地,每天早上早饭后,它履行着它自己约定的职责,直到巴克逐渐地像期待桑顿到来一样,也那么强烈地期待着这只牧师般的母狗的到来。尼格,同样很友好,虽然这方面的证据很少。它是一只巨大的黑狗,半猎狗半鹿血统,有一双会笑的眼睛和一个无穷无尽的好脾气。
  使巴克吃惊的是,这些狗对它毫无嫉妒之心,它们看上去一起在分享着约翰。桑顿对它们共同的友好和宽厚。随着巴克的渐渐康复,它们一起引诱它去参加各种各样荒谬可笑的游戏,这些游戏就连约翰。桑顿本人也忍不住要来参加。在这种时兴的游戏中,巴克渐渐地痊愈了,渐渐地进入了一个崭新的环境之中。爱,真正多情的爱,是它有生以来第一次所感受到的。这种经历,它在法官磨房主的那个太阳能亲吻到的桑塔。克拉拉山谷里的丘陵地带里是没有过的。和法官的儿子们一起去打猎,一起去旅行,那是一种工作上的合作关系。和法官的孙子们在一起,它扮演的是一种豪华壮丽的监护人角色。而和法官本人在一起,它有一种雄壮威严的友谊感。但是,爱,发热的、真正燃烧的爱,那种疯狂的崇拜的爱,却是在和约翰。桑顿在一起时才产生的。
  这个人救了它的命,这是其一。但更进一步,他是它理想的主人。别的人看待他们的狗,只是从工作平安的角度,从生意上的便利出发的。可他却把狗看成是他自己的孩子。因为主人无法去做一些事,才有他的孩子去做。不仅如此,主人还看得更远。他从不忘记一句友好的问候,或是一句喝彩的话语。他总是坐下来,和狗们进行长时间的交谈,(“来点儿气”——桑顿这样称呼这样的谈话)。这种嗜好,他和它们都是非常喜欢的。他有一种特殊的方法:用他那双粗糙的双手抚摩着巴克的脑袋,亲昵地把巴克的头摇来晃去。他错误地叫着巴克的名字,而巴克却偏偏就喜欢他这样错叫它。巴克明白,没有什么更大的快乐能比的上这种粗糙的手的抚摩、拥抱和那种喃喃地诅咒和笑骂了。每次他抱着它的头摇来晃去,都好似要把它的心从它的身体里狂喜地摇出来,这使它心旷神怡。每当这种时候,他把它放开了,它就欢蹦乱跳,咧嘴大笑,眼睛里流光溢彩,激动地喉咙震颤着发不出声音来。在这种忘形的状态中,约翰。桑顿就总会虔诚谦恭地大喊:“上帝呀!你除了不会说话什么都会干!”巴克有一个表达爱的诡计,几乎跟伤害差不多。它常常用它的嘴量一量桑顿的手。它的嘴凶猛地接近手,用牙咬住手上的肉,咬住好长一段时间,在手上留下很深的印痕。巴克明白,主人的咒骂都是对它爱的话语;而桑顿也知道,巴克假装的咬也是一种爱的表示。
  但在大多数时候,巴克的爱只是用崇拜来表达。当桑顿摸着它和它说话时,它狂放地高兴,它不去追寻什么回报,不象斯给特。斯给特喜欢把自己的鼻子嗅到桑顿的手掌下,轻轻地推来推去。它也不象那个尼格,尼格总是偷偷地走过来,把它巨大的头放到桑顿的膝盖下休息。巴克只满意于远距离的崇拜。它会长时间地带着极大的兴趣,热切地、机敏地爬在那里,爬在桑顿的脚下,看着他的脸,看着主人的每一个动作、主人每种神态的改变。它思考着、研究着,随时准备听从主人的每一个指示和暗示。或者,如果条件容许,它会爬的更远一点儿、爬在旁边或者他的后面,观察着主人的轮廓,观察着他身体的每一个偶尔的动作。经常地,它就用这种方式和主人神交着。它注视的目光会落在主人头的周围,主人也会盯着它看。桑顿不说话,他的思想从他的眼神中闪出来;而巴克的心中所想也从它的眼中迸发出来。
  在它获救后好长一段时间里,巴克不喜欢桑顿看它的目光。桑顿离开帐篷,走进帐篷,它都跟在他的脚后。自从它来到北极地区,它的几位短期主人都使它产生过一种恐惧感,使它认为没有一个主人会改变对狗的态度。它害怕桑顿也会像波罗特、费兰柯斯以及那个半苏格兰血统的哈尔一样忘记它的生命。甚至在晚上、在睡梦中,它都被这种想法缠的不行。每当这种时候,它就会放弃睡觉,悄悄溜出帐篷,站在寒冷之中,听着主人睡着了的呼吸声。
  但现在它却承受着约翰。桑顿极大的爱,这种在北极地区竟然还会有的爱、这种看起来好象是预先就受到文明影响了的爱,唤起了巴克对原始奋斗的巨大的爱,而它也仍然活生生地、鲜明地保留着这种原始奋斗的爱。忠诚和献身,这种诞生于血和火之中的爱,在它的内心里还是存在着的。可它仍然还保留着它自身的野性和多谋善断。现在它坐在约翰。桑顿的火堆边,但它毕竟是一个野生的东西,来自野性化了的世界。它宁愿如此也不愿做一条这样的狗:一条从温暖的南方而来,只是踩在祖辈们的文明标记之上的狗。因为这种巨大的爱,它不能从桑顿这个人身上偷来。要是在别的什么人那里,在别的什么营地里,它要想得到这种爱,它都不会犹豫片刻的,它会去偷的,并且这种它偷来爱的狡猾还使它不致被发觉。
  它的脸上身上有别的狗牙所留下的记号。它作起战来和以前一样凶猛,不过却更加敏捷机灵了。吵架的时候,斯给特和尼格脾气太好——另外它们都是属于约翰。桑顿的,巴克不和它们吵。但对一只陌生的狗来说,不管它是什么种,不管它曾有多么英勇,它都要快速地承认:巴克是至高无上的;或者发现它自己是在和一个可怕的敌手进行着为生存而战的争斗。并且巴克还不慈悲,它很明白大棒和狗牙的法律。它从不放弃一次利益,在和敌人作战、通向死亡的路上,它从不后退。它已经从斯佩茨那里学会了许多,从和邮政警察的狗们发生的那次主要的战斗中学会了许多。它知道在生和死之间没有中间路好走,它必须掌握或者被掌握。而显示慈悲、宽恕是软弱的表现,慈悲和宽恕在这原始的生存中是不存在的。在这里,害怕是不能被理解的,理解了害怕将导致死亡。杀死对方或被对方杀死;吃了对手或被对手所吃,这就是法律。而这种赤裸裸的法律,这种从时代的小路上,从高山峻岭中,从荆棘丛林中走出来的法律它是必须得遵守的。
  它比它所看到的这个时代里的一切,它所感受到的这个地区里的一切都要成熟的多。它联系着过去和现在:潮起潮落的汹涌澎湃和春夏秋冬的循环轮回在它的面前运动着,而这样的运动却又永远地落在了它的后面。
  现在它坐在约翰。桑顿的火堆边。它是一条宽胸膛的狗,有一口白牙,有一身长毛。它有所有狗的方式、态度和阴影:半狼的、全狼的、紧迫的、激励的。吃肉就要吃出肉的滋味;渴了,就去喝水;能窥测出流向身旁的风;能分辨出发自大森林里野性生命所发出的声音,并能和它们进行交谈;能随时控制自己的情绪,指导自己的行动;要睡觉,就躺下去睡,并且还要做梦,做起梦来还要胡说八道一气。
  不客气地说吧,这些阴暗隐蔽的东西都在向它点头招呼。每一天,人,和人的主张、要求从它这里滑向更远的地方。在森林的深处,有一个声音在呼唤着。它——巴克经常能听到这种呼唤。这种神秘的呼唤,谁听到了都要发抖,都要受到引诱。它感到有股力量强迫它把背转向火,转向周围被踏平的大地。它感到有股力量强迫它要一头扎进大森林里,要去奔跑、奔跑。它不知要奔向哪里,为什么要奔向那里;它也不想知道要奔向哪里,为什么要奔向那里。这种呼唤的声音很是专横,很是紧急,就在大森林的深处……可是它也一样经常地获得了那种在软软的、没被裂开的土地上正撑开的绿色的阴凉,还有那种爱,那种约翰。桑顿又把它拉回到火堆旁的爱。
  桑顿独自容纳着巴克。其余的人都没有这种福份,有机会的旅行者们可能也赞扬巴克、宠爱它,但是巴克对这些都很冷淡。倘若有人太过明显地对巴克有所偏爱,它都会站起来跑开。
  当桑顿的合伙人汉斯和皮特坐着一直被望眼欲穿的木筏回来时,巴克拒绝注意他们,直到它了解了他们和桑顿都是很亲密的朋友为止。自那以后,巴克就以一种被动的、默认的方式容忍了他们对它的友好,从他们那里接受友谊。并把对他们的这种被动的容忍,当成是反过来对他们这些人的最大恩惠。汉斯、皮特和桑顿一样,有着大大咧咧的言谈举止,贴着土地睡觉,思考方式简单,看上去很是清澈透明,毫无心眼。在他们从道森锯木厂旁边的旋涡里驾着木筏回来后,他们就理解了巴克,理解了巴克所走过的路。于是他们就不再坚持巴克一定要和斯给特、尼格一样地对他们那样亲密了。
  对桑顿,巴克的爱是越来越强烈了。桑顿在这些男人们中间是孤独的。在夏季的旅行中,他会在巴克的背上放上一个包裹。对巴克来说,没有什么事情太巨大了而不能去做,只要桑顿下命令。
  一天,(他们从漂木筏的所得中拿出了一些钱,离开道森地区往塔纳纳河的上游去了)桑顿和他的狗们坐在峭壁的顶峰上。这峭壁直上直下,三百英尺下才见到裸露的山岩。桑顿坐在峭壁的边上,巴克紧挨着他。桑顿忽然起了一个念头,他招呼汉斯和皮特注意他以前没想到过的这个实验:“跳,巴克!”他发了令,挥着胳膊指向一个深坑。巴克跳了过去,桑顿瞬间在这巨大的山崖边一把拉住了巴克。汉斯和皮特则把他们使劲地往回拉住以保证安全。
  “这很神,很奇特!”皮特说。实验过去后,他们打开了话匣子。
  桑顿摇摇头:“不,这很辉煌!也很可怕!你知道吗?有时这样做,我也很害怕。”“我可不愿做一个让它悬空了、再去伸手拉着它的人。”皮特看着巴克,下结论地说。
  “这太危险了!太刺激了!”汉斯接过话说:“我就有这种想法。”他们到了阿拉斯加的环城。(该城1893年发现黄金。1897年道森地区大罢工后,该城逐渐废弃。)除夕夜过去了,皮特的忧虑成为了现实。“黑”布顿,一个脾气很坏、很恶毒的人,在酒吧里一直在和一个新来的伙计吵架。这时桑顿兴致勃勃地走了过去,站在二者之间。巴克习惯地爬在拐角,头放在前爪上,看着主人的一举一动。布顿出其不意地出了手,直向桑顿的胸口打来。桑顿一下子被打得后退了几步,只是靠着抓住了吧台的铁把手才勉强站稳。
  旁观者听到的既非狗叫也非狗喊,而是一声最好形容为“咆哮”的吼声。他们看到巴克一下子跳起到半空,嘴就对准了布顿的嗓子眼。“黑”布顿本能求生地挥舞着胳膊,被巴克扑倒在地板上。巴克压在布顿的身上,牙松开了他的胳膊,嘴却对着他的喉咙。这下子,恶魔般的“黑”布顿只能部分成功地扭动着身子,他的喉咙已被撕破了。这时人们围向了巴克,巴克被赶开了。但当大夫检查布顿流血的伤口时,巴克还在上下左右地搜索着,不依不饶地狂吼着。并试图再一次冲上去,却被一排有敌意的大棒逼着退了回去。后来,在这个点上召开了一次“矿工会议”,会上的人们一致认为巴克的火气大,不能留在附近。于是巴克在会议期间就被送到别处去了,但是它的名声却从此鹊起,它的名字被传遍了阿拉斯加的每一个营地。
  接着,这年秋天,巴克在另一次非常时兴的行动中救了桑顿的命。当时,他们三个合伙人:桑顿、汉斯和皮特正撑着一艘又长又窄的撑杆船,在四十里弯的一条险峻河道里顺流而下。汉斯和皮特的工作是:用一条细细的马尼拉绳,绕在岸上的一棵棵树上,慢慢地使船往下漂走。桑顿用一根杆子在撑船,不时地对着岸上呼喊。巴克在岸上,既担心又焦急,和船保持着同样的速度,眼睛从没离开过它的主人。
  在一个特别糟糕的地点,没被水淹没的岩石边缘露出在水面上。汉斯放松了绳子,桑顿把杆子指向岩石,想用杆子顶住石头,使船饶开划到急流中去。就这么做着的时候,飞流而下的急流像脱缰的野马奔腾咆哮着。汉斯想看一下绳子。不料检查的太突然了,船开始不稳了,开始在水中乱晃。桑顿猛地被甩到船边,船一下子翻了,人和物都沉入到湍急的水中。在这段野马般的水流中,是没有游泳者能生还的。
  巴克刹那间跃起,从三百码开外处跳入水中。在疯狂地打着旋的水里,它追上了桑顿,桑顿猛地拉住了巴克的尾巴。巴克向着岸边,用它所有非凡的气力向前游着。可是这种直接向岸边的游动进展得很慢,而顺水下漂却令人吃惊的快。身下,野马似的水流向上涌着,发出震耳欲聋的吼声。浪打在岩石上,被撕裂成千百万碎片,又向岩石反射而去。岩石却像一把巨大的梳子,用它的牙齿过滤着峰涌而来的急流。碰撞在最后面陡峭山岩上的水流又被打了回来,产生了可怕的吸力。
  桑顿明白,从这里登陆是不可能的。他用尽全身的力气突然抱住了一块岩石,顾不上碰伤又被打向了第二块石头。还没等缓过一口气,又被急流冲向了第三块。他双手死死地抓住了岩石滑溜溜的尖端。他解开了巴克,用压过水流的吼声大喊:“走开!巴克!走开!”巴克控制不了自己,顺水快速地漂了下去,拼死在水中挣扎着。但它不能成功地游回来。它一遍又一遍地听着主人的命令,使劲将头举过水面,好象是要最后再看主人一眼,然后服从地向岸边游去了。它拼尽全力地游着,硬是在刚才那段不能游泳、发生事故的地方上了岸。
  岸上的人知道,一个人抱住滑溜溜的岩石,面对着飞流而下的水流最多只能呆上几分钟。于是他们就飞快地往上游跑。在距离桑顿不远的上方,他们用那根停住小船的绳子斜绑在巴克身上。仔细地进行了判断:绳子在它游动时,要既不会勒上它,又要不会妨碍它的游动,然后他们把巴克投入水中。巴克勇敢地向前游着,但在急流中不能游的很直。等到巴克发现这一点时已是很迟了,桑顿和它并肩时向它扒了五六次,都无法靠近它。结果巴克无效地游过去了。
  汉斯麻利地停住了绳子,就像巴克也是一条船。于是巴克套在紧紧的绳子上划过水面,脑袋不时地浸没在水里,它又挣扎着露出了头。当巴克被拉到岸上时,它已被淹得够戗。汉斯和皮特拼力把巴克拖了上来。巴克大口大口地喘着气,胸脯一上一下地,口里往外吐着水。它摇摇摆摆地站了起来,又一下子倒了下去。桑顿微弱的声音传了过来。虽然他们没说什么,但他们都知道:桑顿已到极限了,到了绝境了。巴克听到主人的声音,浑身如电击一般地又跳了起来,冲到了在岸边的汉斯和皮特跟前,冲到它刚才下水的地方。
  绳子又一次套在了巴克身上,它又下水了。巴克向前游去。这一次它在水中游得更直了些,它已经算计错一次了,不能有罪地再错一次。汉斯松着绳子,但放得不是很开,而皮特则保证不使绳子绞在一起。巴克戴着绳子直接游到桑顿的正上方,然后稍转了一下身子,用一种特别的训练速度,头对着主人就游了过去。桑顿看见它游过来了。当巴克胡乱扑腾水的时候,身后的水流全力地推着它,它扑了过去,两只前爪紧紧地抱住了桑顿粗大的脖子。汉斯把绳子绕在树上,使绳子不再往下。巴克和主人在水里紧紧地拉扯着,绳子勒得很紧,令人窒息。有时主人在水上,有时巴克在水上。他们游过了锯齿般的岩石,一次又一次地碰在暗礁上,终于,他们拉着绳子回到了岸上。
  桑顿倒了下去,肚子猛地撞在汉斯和皮特预先从河里打捞上来的木头上。他第一眼先看巴克,看着它一瘸一拐明显失去生气的躯体。尼克正在狂吠,斯给特则在舔着巴克湿淋淋的面孔和那双紧闭的眼睛。桑顿小心谨慎、跌跌撞撞地走到巴克跟前,仔细检查了它的身体,发现有三根肋骨断了。
  “太难为它了!”桑顿大声喊到:“我们就在这宿营。”他们就在那里宿了营,直到巴克折断了的肋骨被接上,它又能行走了。
  这年冬天,在道森,巴克又扮演了一次开拓者的角色,也许看上去不是那么轰轰烈烈,那么英雄气十足,但却使它的名字多次镶嵌在阿拉斯加名声很旺的图腾拄上了。这次开拓尤其使桑顿他们三个人满足,因为他们需要有能力在这处女般贞洁的北极东方,进行一次满怀长久希望的旅行,他们需要旅行的装备、旅行的费用。当时在这个地区,矿工们还没有出现。这事发端于一次在爱尔多瑞多。撒龙的谈话。在这次谈话中,人们大大地夸奖着他们自己的狗。巴克因为以往的记录而成为这些人谈话的目标,桑顿被强烈地虚荣心驱赶着来护卫巴克。半小时后一个人说,他的狗能拉五百磅重的雪橇行走;另一个人则吹他的狗能拉六百磅重;第三个人则说他的狗能拉七百磅。
  “呸!”约翰。桑顿说:“巴克能拉一千磅!”“能拉着走吗?能拉着走一百码吗?”马托森,一位找金王喊到,就是刚才吹他的狗能拉七百磅的那位。
  “能行!能拉着走一百码!”约翰。桑顿冷冷地说。
  “好!”马托森说着,慢慢地思考着,为的是要让所有的人都能听清:“我出一千块钱说它不能!钱放在这里!”说着,他使劲将一袋大香肠大小的金粉砰地一声摔在酒吧的桌子上。
  没有人说话。桑顿的卤莽,如果这算是卤莽的话,被大家伙儿认可了。桑顿能感到有一股热血慢慢地涌上了他的脸,他的舌头欺骗了他,他不知道巴克能不能拉动一千磅的东西。半吨重哪!这巨大的重量吓住了他。他对巴克的力气很有信心,经常认为它有能力拉起这么重的东西。但是直到现在,他没有看到过这种可能性。现在,众人的眼睛都在注视着他,他们不说话,在沉默中等待着。进一步说,桑顿现在可拿不出一千元钱来,汉斯和皮特也不能。
  “我现在到外面去弄一个雪橇来,放上二十只五十磅重的面粉袋子!”马托森继续用那种粗鲁而坦然的语气说着:“希望这不妨碍你。”桑顿没有说话。他不知道该说什么好,他茫然地、像是失去了思考力地看着屋里每个人的脸,希望能有一种什么方式能使事情从头开始。吉姆。奥布瑞,也是一位找金王,还是过去的朋友,吸引了他的目光。这对他是一个暗示,好象是在提醒他,提醒他去做他从没有梦想去做的事情似的。
  “你能借给我一千元吗?”他问到,几乎听不清。
  “行!”奥布瑞答道,砰地一声扔下一个鼓鼓囊囊的袋子,摆在马托森袋子的旁边:“虽然我也没多大信心,约翰,我看这个畜生能行!”爱尔多瑞多全镇出动,都来观看这场打赌比赛。人们离开了桌子,商人们和游戏的保持者们都走上前来,看这场赌赛的结果,都来押赌。好几百人戴着皮帽子、皮手套、穿着皮衣、皮裤,都在不远的地方围定了雪橇。马托森的雪橇已经装上了一千磅重的面粉,已经在那里一两个小时了。在这种强烈的寒冷中,(零下六十度)跑过来的人很快就冻成硬硬的雪堆了。有人提议说巴克根本就不能动这个雪橇,他们下的赌注是二比一。人们叫嚷着、喊着有关“出发”“爆发”的双关语、俏皮话。奥布瑞主张:桑顿有权让围观者松动松动,有权让巴克从完全静止状态下出发;马托森则坚持:出发应包括怎么地都得快一点,不要让那些围观者冻僵了;而多数早已打过赌的人则根据自己的好恶把赌注下到三比一来反对巴克。
  这里没有接受者。没有人相信巴克能完成这件活儿。桑顿已经匆匆忙忙地下了赌,已经背了债了,他带着深深的疑惑。现在他盯着雪撬,盯着这个事实,盯着只有十只狗的狗队才能拉起的、在雪中堆起的这堆货物,他觉得要完成这个任务是太不可能了。马托森更加得意扬扬了。
  “三比一!”他宣布:“我在那个数字上再给你一千元,怎么样?桑顿!”桑顿脸上的疑惑是明显的。但是他的斗志被唤了起来——这种斗志高高翱翔在不可能意识到的成败上,对所有聚集在这次战斗上的喧闹声充耳不闻。他叫来了汉斯和皮特。他们的袋子是瘪的,加上他自己的,他们三个人总共只有两百多块钱。在他们日见减少的财富中,这就是他们的全部了,但他们还是毫不犹豫地放在马托森六百元钱的旁边。三比一就三比一!
  没有十只狗的狗队,只有巴克。巴克戴着自己的绳套,被拉到了雪橇跟前。它感觉到,它一定要用某种方式为约翰。桑顿做出什么伟大的事来。赞美它辉煌出现的沙沙低语声甚嚣尘上,。巴克处在绝对良好的状态中,它过剩的体力没有一丝一毫的浪费;一百五十磅的体重使它显得那样年富力强、精力充沛和坚韧不拔;浑身上下的皮毛闪着丝绸般的光泽;横过颈下、肩膀的长毛,又恢复了往昔的雄姿,半竖了起来,看上去每根毛发都有力量去做运动,都显示着超群的活力和动力;那巨大的胸膛、有力的前肢和身体的其余部分,比例协调;肌肉在皮下紧绷绷地凸显着。人们感受到了这些肌肉,认定它们像铁一样的坚硬,加上去的赌注又下降到了二比一。
  “好!先生们,好,先生们!”哥伦比亚河北岸印第安部落最后王朝的一位成员司库卡母。本切司王结结巴巴地说:“我向你们提议八百元!阁下,比赛前。阁下,八百块钱!”桑顿摇着头一步步地走到巴克跟前。
  “你要离开它站着!”马托森抗议:“这是公平的游戏,你要离它远一点!”人们静下来了,只能听到赌徒们得意扬扬的二比一的声音。人们都知道:巴克是一只优秀的狗。但二十袋五十磅重的面粉,在他们眼中是太大了,不能不捂住他们钱袋的绳子。
  桑顿半跪在巴克的旁边,他的双手支在脸颊上。他不能像平时那样习惯地、开玩笑地摇巴克,或者对巴克喃喃地说些爱的诅咒,只能小声对它说:“就像你爱我,巴克,就像你爱我一样!”他只能低声说这些话。巴克用一种被压抑的热情悲鸣着。
  人们好奇地观看着。游戏正变的越来越神秘,看上去像一场念咒、戏法和魔法。当桑顿站起了脚,巴克用前爪抓住了他戴手套的手,用牙轻轻地咬了一下,然后慢慢地松开了牙。桑顿极不情愿地一步步走了回来。
  “开始!巴克!”桑顿下令。
  巴克绷紧了全身,然后慢慢地走了几步。它从来就都是这样开始的。
  “走!”桑顿大喝了一声,划破了紧张的寂静。
  巴克向右动了一下,一头扎进向前的运动中。装着二十袋面粉的雪橇绳子,一下子勒在巴克一百五十磅的躯体上。雪橇哆嗦了一下,巴克的四肢下爆发出了一声清脆的、划过冰雪的丝丝声。
  “走!”桑顿又喊了一声。
  巴克这次加倍用了力气。这次是向左。雪橇先是发出几乎听不见的吱吱声,接着声音越来越响。雪橇在原地打着转,巴克的四肢打着划、划擦过雪地,巴克向旁边划了几英寸,雪橇突地向前动了一下。旁观者憋住呼吸,热情地、下意识地看着这个场景。
  “前进!”桑顿的命令像一声熗响。巴克拼命向前。绳索紧绷绷的雪橇发出了刺耳的吱吱声。巴克全身的力气径直集中在一个点上,它做出了可怕的努力。丝绸般皮毛下的一块块肌肉像活了似的翻滚着、打着结;它把整个胸脯低向了大地;头向下前方探着;四肢由飞快转向疯狂;所有的指甲都狠狠地抓在硬结的雪地上,抠出了一排排平行的、鲜明的凹槽。
  雪橇摇动着、颤抖着、缓缓地向前启动了。
  巴克的一只脚划了一下,旁观者中有人“哎呀”了一声。接着,雪橇犹豫不决地又动了起来,好象成功地摆脱了一次被阻止的冲撞,尽管它根本就没有被什么东西挡住过。……一英寸……一英寸……两英寸……能感觉出,阻力在减小。当雪橇获得冲力时,巴克就向前用劲,直到雪橇稳稳地沿着大道大动了起来。
  人们大口地喘着气,用力地呼吸着。他们根本就没有发觉:刚才,他们根本就没有呼吸。桑顿跑在后面,用短促而热烈的话语鼓励着巴克。距离早就被量了出来。当巴克接近那堆用来标记一百码的柴火堆时,欢呼声就开始爆发了。声浪越来越大,在巴克通过了柴火堆,对停止的命令表现得迟疑不决时,声浪终于变成了震天地的吼声。
  人们紧张的心情松弛了下来,个个眼里都满含着热泪,甚至包括那个马托森。帽子和手套飞上了天空;大家互相握手拥抱,不管是谁,不管认识不认识。大家的笑声、闹声、热腾腾地滚动着一排排激动人心的大浪。
  桑顿跪在巴克旁边,头对着头。他把巴克摇得前仰后合。
  急急忙忙走过来的人们听着他的咒骂。桑顿长久地、热情地、轻轻地、充满柔情蜜意地咒骂着巴克。
  “天哪!阁下,阁下!”司库卡母。本切司王唾沫星乱溅地说:“我要为它给你一千元。阁下!一千元。啊…不不不。一千二百元!阁下!一千二百元!”桑顿站了起来,他双眼湿润,泪流满面:“先生,”他对司库卡母。本切司王说:“不!先生。你应该下地狱!这是我对你最好的回答!”巴克用牙咬住了桑顿的手。桑顿抱着它笑着、摇着,共同的喜悦使他们化为了一体。
  旁观者尊敬地、有礼貌地离开了他们。
  他们再也不会随便地被人分离开了。  


执素衣

ZxID:13389413


等级: 内阁元老
举报 只看该作者 4楼  发表于: 2013-10-08 0


CHAPTER 5

THE TOIL OF TRACE AND TRAIL


Thirty days from the time it left Dawson, the Salt Water Mail, with Buck and his mates at the fore, arrived at Skaguay. They were in a wretched state, worn out and worn down. Buck's one hundred and forty pounds had dwindled to one hundred and fifteen. The rest of his mates, though lighter dogs, had relatively lost more weight than he. Pike, the malingerer, who, in his lifetime of deceit, had often successfully feigned a hurt leg, was now limping in earnest. Sol-leks was limping, and Dub was suffering from a wrenched shoulder blade.
They were all terribly footsore. No spring or rebound was left in them. Their feet fell heavily on the trail, jarring their bodies and doubling the fatigue of a day's travel. There was nothing the matter with them except that they were dead tired. It was not the dead tiredness that comes through brief and excessive effort, from which recovery is a matter of hours; but it was the dead tiredness that comes through the slow and prolonged strength drainage of months of toil. There was no power of recuperation left, no reserve strength to call upon. It had been all used, the last least bit of it. Every muscle, every fiber, every cell, was tired, dead tired. And there was reason for it. In less than five months they had traveled twenty-five hundred miles, during the last eighteen hundred of which they had but five days' rest. When they arrived at Skaguay, they were apparently on their last legs. They could barely keep the traces taut, and on the down grades just managed to keep out of the way of the sled.
"Mush on, poor sore feets," the driver encouraged them as they tottered down the main street of Skaguay. "Dis is de last. Den we get one long rest. Eh? For sure. One bully long rest."
The drivers confidently expected a long stopover. Themselves, they had covered twelve hundred miles with two days' rest, and in the nature of reason and common justice they deserved an interval of loafing. But so many were the men who had rushed into the Klondike, and so many were the sweethearts, wives, and kin that had not rushed in, that the congested mail was taking on Alpine proportions; also, there were official orders. Fresh batches of Hudson Bay dogs were to take the places of those worthless for the trail. The worthless ones were to be got rid of, and, since dogs count for little against dollars, they were to be sold.
Three days passed, by which time Buck and his mates found how really tired and weak they were. Then, on the morning of the fourth day, two men from the States came along and bought them, harness and all, for a song. The men addressed each other as "Hal" and "Charles". Charles was a middle-aged, lightish colored man, with weak and watery eyes and a mustache that twisted fiercely and vigorously up, giving the lie to the limply drooping lip it concealed. Hal was a youngster of nineteen or twenty, with a big Colt's revolver and a hunting knife strapped about him on a belt that fairly bristled with cartridges. This belt was the most salient thing about him. It advertised his callowness--a callowness sheer and unutterable. Both men were manifestly out of place, and why such as they should adventure the North is part of the mystery of things that passes understanding.
Buck heard the chaffering, saw the money pass between the man and the Government agent, and knew that the Scotch half-breed and the mail-train drivers were passing out of his life on the heels of Perrault and Francois and the others who had gone before. When driven with his mates to the new owners' camp, Buck saw a slipshod and slovenly affair, tent half-stretched, dishes unwashed, everything in disorder; also, he saw a woman. "Mercedes" the men called her. She was Charles's wife and Hal's sister--a nice family party.
Buck watched them apprehensively as they proceeded to take down the tent and load the sled. There was a great deal of effort about their manner, but no businesslike method. The tent was rolled into an awkward bundle three times as large as it should have been. The tin dishes were packed away unwashed. Mercedes continually fluttered in the way of her men and kept up an unbroken chattering of remonstrance and advice. When they put a clothes-sack on the front of the sled, she suggested it should go on the back; and when they had it put on the back, and covered it over with a couple of the bundles, she discovered overlooked articles which could abide nowhere else but in that very sack, and they unloaded again.
Three men from a neighboring tent came out and looked on, grinning and winking at one another.
"You've got a right smart load as it is," said one of them; "and its not me should tell you your business, but I wouldn't tote that tent along if I was you."
"Undreamed of!" cried Mercedes, throwing up her hands in dainty dismay. "However in the world could I manage without a tent?"
"It's springtime, and you won't get any more cold weather," the man replied.
She shook her head decidedly, and Charles and Hal put the last odds and ends on top the mountainous load.
"Think it'll ride?" one of the men asked.
"Why shouldn't it?" Charles demanded rather shortly.
"Oh, that's all right, that's all right," the man hastened meekly to say. "I was just a wondering, that is all. It seemed a mite top-heavy."
Charles turned his back and drew the lashings down as well as he could, which was not in the least well.
"And of course the dogs can hike along all day with that contraption behind them," affirmed a second of the men.
"Certainly," said Hal, with freezing politeness, taking hold of the gee-pole with one hand and swinging his whip from the other. "Mush!" He shouted. "Mush on there!"
The dogs sprang against the breastbands, strained hard for a few moments, then relaxed. They were unable to move the sled.
"The lazy brutes, I'll show them," he cried, preparing to lash out at them with the whip.
But Mercedes interfered, crying, "Oh, Hal, you mustn't," as she caught hold of the whip and wrenched it from him. "The poor dears! Now you must promise you won't be harsh with them for the rest of the trip, or I won't go a step."
"Precious lot you know about dogs," her brother sneered, "and I wish you'd leave me alone. They're lazy, I tell you, and you've got to whip them to get anything out of them. That's their way. You ask anyone. Ask one of those men."
Mercedes looked at them imploringly, untold repugnances at sight of pain written in her pretty face.
"They're weak as water, if you want to know," came the reply from one of the men. "Plum tuckered out, that's what's the matter. They need a rest."
"Rest be blanked," said Hal, with his beardless lips; and Mercedes said, "Oh!" in pain and sorrow at the oath.
But she was a clannish creature, and rushed at once to the defense of her brother. "Never mind that man," she said pointedly. "You're driving our dogs and you do what you think best with them."
Again Hal's whip fell upon the dogs. They threw themselves against the breastbands, dug their feet into the packed snow, got down low to it, and put forth all their strength. The sled held as though it were an anchor. After two efforts, they stood still, panting. The whip was whistling savagely, when once more Mercedes interfered. She dropped on her knees before Buck, with tears in her eyes, and put her arms around his neck.
"You poor, poor dears," she cried sympathetically, "why don't you pull hard? Then you wouldn't be whipped." Buck did not like her, but he was feeling too miserable to resist her, taking it as a part of the day's miserable work.
One of the onlookers, who had been clenching his teeth to suppress hot speech, now spoke up:
"It's not that I care a whoop what becomes of you, but for the dogs' sakes I just want to tell you, you can help them a mighty lot by breaking out that sled. The runners are froze fast. Throw your weight against the gee-pole, right and left, and break it out."
A third time the attempt was made, but this time, following the advice, Hal broke out the runners which had been frozen to the snow. The overloaded and unwieldy sled forged ahead, Buck and his mates struggling frantically under the rain of blows. A hundred yards ahead the path turned and sloped steeply into the main street. It would have required an experienced man to keep the top-heavy sled upright, and Hal was not such a man. As they swung on the turn the sled went over, spilling half its load through the loose lashings. The dogs never stopped. The lightened sled bounded on its side behind them. They were angry because of the ill treatment they had received and the unjust load. Buck was raging. He broke into a run, the team following his lead. Hal cried, "Whoa! Whoa!" But they gave no heed. He tripped and was pulled off his feet. The capsized sled ground over him, and the dogs dashed on up the street, adding to the gaiety of Skaguay as they scattered the remainder of the outfit along its chief thoroughfare.
Kind-hearted citizens caught the dogs and gathered up the scattered belongings. Also, they gave advice. Half the load and twice the dogs, if they ever expected to reach Dawson, was what was said. Hal and his sister and brother-in-law listened unwillingly, pitched tent, and overhauled the outfit. Canned goods were turned out that made men laugh, for canned goods on the Long Trail is a thing to dream about. "Blankets for a hotel," quoth one of the men who laughed and helped. "Half as many is too much; get rid of them. Throw away that tent, and all those dishes--who's going to wash them, anyway? Good Lord, do you think you're traveling on a Pullman?"
And so it went, the inexorable elimination of the superfluous. Mercedes cried when her clothes-bags were dumped on the ground and article after article was thrown out. She cried in general, and she cried in particular over each discarded thing. She clasped hands about knees, rocking back and forth broken-heartedly. She averred she would not go an inch, not for a dozen Charleses. She appealed to everybody and to everything, finally wiping her eyes and proceeding to cast out even articles of apparel that were imperative necessaries. And in her zeal, when she had finished with her own, she attacked the belongings of her men and went through them like a tornado.
This accomplished, the outfit, though cut in half, was still a formidable bulk. Charles and Hal went out in the evening and bought six Outside dogs. They, added to the six of the original team, and Teek and Koona, the huskies obtained at the Rink Rapids on the record trip, brought the team up to fourteen. But the Outside dogs, though practically broken in since their landing, did not amount to much. Three were short-haired pointers, one was a Newfoundland, and the other two were mongrels of indeterminate breed. They did not seem to know anything, these newcomers. Buck and his comrades looked upon them with disgust, and though he speedily taught them their places and what not to do, he could not teach them what to do. They did not take kindly to trace and trail. With the exception of the two mongrels, they were bewildered and spirit-broken by the strange savage environment in which they found themselves and by the ill treatment they had received. The two mongrels were without spirit at all; bones were the only things breakable about them.
With the newcomers hopeless and forlorn, and the old team worn out by twenty-five hundred miles of continuous trail, the outlook was anything but bright. The two men, however, were quite cheerful. And they were proud, too. They were doing the thing in style, with fourteen dogs. They had seen other sleds depart over the Pass for Dawson, or come in from Dawson, but never had they seen a sled with so many as fourteen dogs. In the nature of Arctic travel there was a reason why fourteen dogs should not drag one sled, and that was that one sled could not carry the food for fourteen dogs. But Charles and Hal did not know this. They had worked the trip out with a pencil, so much to a dog, so many dogs, and so many days, Q.E.D. Mercedes looked over their shoulders and nodded comprehensively, it was all so very simple.
Late next morning Buck led the long team up the street. There was nothing lively about it, no snap or go in him and his fellows. They were starting dead weary. Four times he had covered the distance between Salt Water and Dawson, and the knowledge that, jaded and tired, he was facing the same trail once more, made him bitter. His heart was not in the work, nor was the heart of any dog. The Outsiders were timid and frightened, the Insiders without confidence in their masters.
Buck felt vaguely that there was no depending upon these two men and the woman. They did not know how to do anything, and as the days went by it became apparent that they could not learn. They were slack in all things, without order or discipline. It took them half the night to pitch a slovenly camp, and half the morning to break that camp and get the sled loaded in fashion so slovenly that for the rest of the day they were occupied in stopping and rearranging the load. Some days they did not make ten miles. On other days they were unable to get started at all. And on no day did they succeed in making more than half the distance used by the men as a basis in their dog-food computation.
It was inevitable that they should go short on dog food. But they hastened it by overfeeding, bringing the day nearer when underfeeding would commence. The Outsider dogs whose digestions had not been trained by chronic famine to make the most of little, had voracious appetites. And when, in addition to this, the worn-out huskies pulled weakly, Hal decided that the orthodox ration was too small. He doubled it. And to cap it all, when Mercedes, with tears in her pretty eyes and a quaver in her throat, could not cajole him into giving the dogs still more, she stole from the fish-sacks and fed them slyly. But is was not food that Buck and the huskies needed, but rest. And though they were making poor time, the heavy load they dragged sapped their strength severely.
Then came the underfeeding. Hal awoke one day to the fact that his dog food was half-gone and the distance only quarter covered; further, that for love or money no additional dog food was to be obtained. So he cut down even the orthodox ration and tried to increase the day's travel. His sister and brother-in-law seconded him; but they were frustrated by their heavy outfit and their own incompetence. It was a simple matter to give the dogs less food; but it was impossible to make the dogs travel faster, while their own inability to get under way earlier in the morning prevented them from traveling longer hours. Not only did they not know how to work dogs, but they did not know how to work themselves.
The first to go was Dub. Poor blundering thief that he was, always getting caught and punished, he had none the less been a faithful worker. His wrenched shoulder-blade, untreated and unrested, went from bad to worse, till finally Hal shot him with the big Colt's revolver. It is a saying of the country that an Outside dog starves to death on the ration of the husky, so the six Outside dogs under Buck could do no less than die on half the ration of the husky. The Newfoundland went first, followed by the three short-haired pointers, the two mongrels hanging more grittily on to life, but going in the end.
By this time all the amenities and gentleness of the Southland had fallen away from the three people. Shorn of its glamour and romance, Arctic travel became to them a reality too harsh for their manhood and womanhood. Mercedes ceased weeping over the dogs, being too occupied with weeping over herself and with quarreling with her husband and brother. To quarrel was the one thing they were never too weary to do. Their irritability arose out of their misery, increased with it, doubled upon it, out-distanced it. The wonderful patience of the trail which comes to men who toil hard and suffer sore, and remain sweet of speech and kindly, did not come to these two men and the woman. They had no inkling of such a patience. They were stiff and in pain; their muscles ached, their bones ached, their very hearts ached; and because of this they became sharp of speech, and hard words were first on their lips in the morning and last at night.
Charles and Hal wrangled whenever Mercedes gave them a chance. It was the cherished belief of each that he did more than his share of the work, and neither forbore to speak this belief at every opportunity. Sometimes Mercedes sided with her husband, sometimes with her brother. The result was a beautiful and unending family quarrel. Starting from a dispute as to which should chop a few sticks for the fire (a dispute which concerned only Charles and Hal), presently would be lugged in the rest of the family, fathers, mothers, uncles, cousins, people thousands of miles away, and some of them dead. That Hal's views on art, or the sort of society plays his mother's brother wrote, should have anything to do with the chopping of a few sticks of firewood, passes comprehension; nevertheless the quarrel was as likely to tend in that direction as in the direction of Charles's political prejudices. And that Charles's sister's tale-bearing tongue should be relevant to the building of a Yukon fire, was apparent only to Mercedes, who disburdened herself of copious opinions upon that topic, and incidentally upon a few other traits unpleasantly peculiar to her husband's family. In the meantime the fire remained unbuilt, the camp half-pitched, and the dogs unfed.
Mercedes nursed a special grievance--the grievance of sex. She was pretty and soft, and had been chivalrously treated all her days. But the present treatment by her husband and brother was everything save chivalrous. It was her custom to be helpless. They complained. Upon which impeachment of what to her was her most essential sex prerogative, she made their lives unendurable. She no longer considered the dogs, and because she was sore and tired, she persisted in riding in the sled. She was pretty and soft, but she weighed one hundred and twenty pounds--a lusty last straw to the load dragged by the weak and starving animals. She rode for days, till they fell in the traces and the sled stood still. Charles and Hal begged her to get off and walk, pleaded with her, entreated, the while she wept and importuned Heaven with a recital of their brutality.
On one occasion they took her off the sled by main strength. They never did it again. She let her legs go limp like a spoiled child, and sat down on the trail. They went on their way, but she did not move. After they had traveled three miles they unloaded the sled, came back for her, and by main strength put her on the sled again.
In the excess of their own misery they were callous to the suffering of their animals. Hal's theory, which he practiced on others, was that one must get hardened. He had started out preaching it to his sister and brother-in-law. Failing there, he hammered it into the dogs with a club. At the Five Fingers the dog food gave out, and a toothless old squaw offered to trade them a few pounds of frozen horsehide for the Colt's revolver that kept the big hunting knife company at Hal's hip. A poor substitute for food was this hide, just as it had been stripped from the starved horses of the cattlemen six months back. In its frozen state it was more like strips of galvanized iron, and when a dog wrestled it into his stomach, it thawed into thin and unnutritious leathery strings and into a mass of short hair, irritating and indigestible.
And through it all Buck staggered along at the head of the team as in a nightmare. He pulled when he could; when he could no longer pull, he fell down and remained down till blows from whip or club drove him to his feet again. All the stiffness and gloss had gone out of his beautiful furry coat. The hair hung down, limp and draggled, or matted with dried blood where Hal's club had bruised him. His muscles had wasted away to knotty strings, and the flesh pads had disappeared, so that each rib and every bone in his frame were outlined cleanly through the loose hide that was wrinkled in folds of emptiness. It was heartbreaking, only Buck's heart was unbreakable. The man in the red sweater had proved that.
As it was with Buck, so was it with his mates. They were perambulating skeletons. There were seven all together, including him. In their very great misery they had become insensible to the bite of the lash or the bruise of the club. The pain of the beating was dull and distant, just as the things their eyes saw and their ears heard seemed dull and distant. They were not half-living, or quarter-living. They were simply so many bags of bones in which sparks of life fluttered faintly. When a halt was made, they dropped down in the traces like dead dogs, and the spark dimmed and paled and seemed to go out. And when the club or whip fell upon them, the spark fluttered feebly up, and they tottered to their feet and staggered on.
There came a day when Billee, the good-natured, fell and could not rise. Hal had traded off his revolver, so he took the axe and knocked Billee on the head as he lay in the traces, then cut the carcass out of the harness and dragged it to one side. Buck saw, and his mates saw, and they knew that this thing was very close to them. On the next day Koona went, and but five of them remained: Joe, too far gone to be malignant; Pike, crippled and limping, only half-conscious and not conscious enough longer to malinger; Sol-leks, the one-eyed, still faithful to the toil of trace and trail, and mournful in that he had so little strength with which to pull; Teek, who had not traveled so far that winter and who was now beaten more than the others because he was fresher; and Buck, still at the head of the team, but no longer enforcing discipline or striving to enforce it, blind with weakness half the time and keeping the trail by the loom of it and by the dim feel of his feet.
It was beautiful spring weather, but neither dogs nor humans were aware of it. Each day the sun rose earlier and set later. It was dawn by three in the morning, and twilight lingered till nine at night. The whole long day was a blaze of sunshine. The ghostly winter silence had given way to the great spring murmur of awakening life. This murmur arose from all the land, fraught with the joy of living. It came from the things that lived and moved again, things which had been as dead and which had not moved during the long months of frost. The sap was rising in the pines. The willows and aspens were bursting out in young buds. Shrubs and vines were putting on fresh garbs of green. Crickets sang in the nights, and in the days all manner of creeping, crawling things rustled forth into the sun. Partridges and woodpeckers were booming and knocking in the forest. Squirrels were chattering, birds singing, and overhead honked the wild fowl driving up from the south in cunning wedges that split the air.
From every hill slope came the trickle of water, the music of unseen fountains. All things were thawing, bending, snapping. The Yukon was straining to break loose the ice that bound it down. It ate away from beneath; the sun ate from above. Air-holes formed, fissures sprang and spread apart, while thin sections of ice fell through bodily into the river. And amid all this bursting, rending, throbbing of awakening life, under the blazing sun and through the soft-sighing breezes, like wayfarers to death, staggered the two men, the woman and the huskies.
With the dogs falling, Mercedes weeping and riding, Hal swearing innocuously, and Charles eyes wistfully watering, they staggered into John Thornton's camp at the mouth of the White River. When they halted, the dogs dropped down as though they had all been struck dead. Mercedes dried her eyes and looked at John Thornton. Charles sat down on a log to rest. He sat down very slowly and painstakingly, what of his great stiffness. Hal did the talking. John Thornton was whittling the last touches on an axe-handle he had made from a stick of birch. He whittled and listened, gave monosyllabic replies, and when it was asked, terse advice. He knew the breed, and he gave his advice in the certainty that it would not be followed.
"They told us up above that the bottom was dropping out of the trail and that the best thing for us to do was to lay over," Hal said in response to Thornton's warning to take no more chances on the rotten ice. "They told us we couldn't make White River, and here we are." This last with a sneering ring of triumph in it.
"And they told you true," John Thornton answered. "The bottom's likely to drop out at any moment. Only fools, with the blind luck of fools, could have made it. I tell you straight, I wouldn't risk my carcass on that ice for all the gold in Alaska."
"That's because you're not a fool, I suppose," said Hal. "All the same, we'll go on to Dawson." He uncoiled his whip. "Get up there, Buck! Hi! Get up there! Mush on!"
Thornton went on whittling. It was idle, he knew, to get between a fool and his folly; while two or three fools more or less would not alter the scheme of things.
But the team did not get up at the command. It had long since passed into the stage where blows were required to rouse it. The whip flashed out, here and there, on its merciless errands. John Thornton compressed his lips. Sol-leks was the first to crawl to his feet. Teek followed. Joe came next, yelping with pain. Pike made painful efforts. Twice he fell over, when half-up, and on the third attempt managed to rise. Buck made no effort. He lay quietly where he had fallen. The lash bit into him again and again, but he neither whined nor struggled. Several times Thornton started, as though to speak, but changed his mind. A moisture came into his eyes, and, as the whipping continued, he arose and walked irresolutely up and down.
This was the first time Buck had failed, in itself a sufficient reason to drive Hal into a rage. He exchanged the whip for the customary club. Buck refused to move under the rain of heavier blows which now fell upon him. Like his mates, he was barely able to get up, but, unlike them, He had made up his mind not to get up. He had a vague feeling of impending doom. This had been strong upon him when he pulled into the bank, and it had not departed from him. What of the thin and rotten ice he had felt under his feet all day, it seemed that he sensed disaster close at hand, out there ahead on the ice where his master was trying to drive him. He refused to stir. So greatly had he suffered, and so far gone was he, that the blows did not hurt much. And as they continued to fall upon him, the spark of life within flickered and went down. It was nearly out. He felt strangely numb. As though from a great distance, he was aware that he was being beaten. The last sensations of pain left him. He no longer felt anything, though very faintly he could hear the impact of the club upon his body. But it was no longer his body, it seemed so far away.
And then, suddenly, without warning, uttering a cry that was inarticulate and more like the cry of an animal, John Thornton sprang upon the man who wielded the club. Hal was hurled backward, as though struck by a falling tree. Mercedes screamed. Charles looked on wistfully, wiped his watery eyes, but did not get up because of his stiffness.
John Thornton stood over Buck, struggling to control himself, too convulsed with rage to speak.
"If you strike that dog again, I'll kill you," he at last managed to say in a choking voice.
"It's my dog," Hal replied, wiping the blood from his mouth as he came back. "Get out of my way, or I'll fix you. I'm going to Dawson."
Thornton stood between him and Buck and evinced no intention of getting out of the way. Hal drew his long hunting knife. Mercedes screamed, cried, laughed, and manifested the chaotic abandonment of hysteria. Thornton rapped Hal's knuckles with the axe-handle, knocking the knife to the ground. He rapped his knuckles again as he tried to pick it up. Then he stooped, picked it up himself, and with two strokes cut Buck's traces.
Hal had no fight left in him. Besides, his hands were full with his sister, or his arms, rather; while Buck was too near dead to be of further use in hauling the sled. A few minutes later they pulled out from the bank and down the river. Buck heard them go and raised his head to see. Pike was leading, Sol-leks was at the wheel, and between were Joe and Teek. They were limping and staggering. Mercedes was riding the loaded sled. Hal guided at the gee-pole, and Charles stumbled along in the rear.
As Buck watched them, Thornton knelt beside him and with rough, kindly hands searched for broken bones. By the time his search had disclosed nothing more than many bruises and a state of terrible starvation, the sled was a quarter of a mile away. Dog and man watched it crawling along over the ice. Suddenly, they saw its back end drop down, as into a rut, and the gee-pole, with Hal clinging to it, jerk into the air. Mercedes' scream came to their ears. They saw Charles turn one step to run back, Sand then a whole section of ice give way and dogs and humans disappear. A yawning hole was all that was to be seen. The bottom had dropped out of the trail.
"You poor devil," said John Thornton and Buck licked his hand.



第五章 苦难的征程

       离开道森的盐水区邮政所已经三十天了,巴克和它的同伴们一直都在向前冲。到达斯克哥瑞时,它们一个个的状态都是十分地可怜。简直是悲惨,精疲力尽、疲惫不堪,稍一动弹就都要散了架。巴克一百四十磅的体重变成了一百一十五磅。其余的伙伴,虽说原来体重就较轻,但现在都比巴克下降得还厉害。派克,那个装病者,一生中一直是奸诈和欺骗的,成功地假装着有一条伤腿,现在却也真地瘸了起来。索迩莱克斯也瘸了。而塔布,正可怜地经受着肩胛骨的疼痛。
  它们都患有可怕的脚疼,再也不能够跳跃了。它们沉重的四肢一落在路上,刺痛就马上传遍全身,从而使一天的劳累更加沉重。它们除了把这死去一般的疲劳当回事外,其它再都顾不上什么了。这种单一而过度的劳累,带来的是死一般的疲倦。这种死一般的疲倦是几个月来力气从体内慢慢地消耗掉了的结果,要想从中恢复过来不知还要多少时间。现在实在是没有复原的力量了,实在是没有重新唤起振奋的东西了,力量完全被用尽了,只剩下最后一点点用来呼吸了。每块肌肉,每根发梢,每个细胞,都疲倦了,死一般地疲倦了。这完全是可以理解的,在过去不到五个月的时间里,它们跨过了两千五百英里,而在最后的这一千八百英里里,它们也只休息了五天。当到达斯克哥瑞时,很明显地,它们是在迈着它们最后的步子,它们只能勉强地保持着一路上严格的紧张。在最后的几步路中,它们只能艰难地让雪橇仅仅是在运动。不,是在滑动。
  “朝前走哇!可怜的脚!”赶狗人鼓舞着它们。它们终于趔趔趄趄地行进在斯克哥瑞的大街上了。“再坚持最后一步!我们就可以好好休息了!对,是要好好休息了!”赶狗人自信地期望着有一次长时间的中途休息。他们自己也是在七百英里的路途中只休息了两天。就是在自然的理由和公共的正义中,他们也应该有一个片刻,去混混日子,磨磨洋工。但是有太多的男人们早已冲进了克兰德来克地区,还有他们那么多的情人们、妻子们,以及那些还在后面就要冲进来的他们的亲戚们。拥挤的邮件正像高山似地向赶狗的人们涌来,况且那里面还有官方的命令需要马上下发。一群群新到的来自哈德森海湾的狗们正等着要取代那些在征途中已失去价值的狗,而失去价值的狗们是要被消除掉的。由于狗的数目比钱的数目要多的多,因此它们都是要被低价卖掉的。
  三天过去了。在此期间,巴克和它的伙伴们发现它们是那么的累、那么的虚弱。第四天早晨,州里来的两个人过来要带走它们,还有所有的绳套,价格当然是很低的了。这两个人互相称做哈尔和查里斯。查里斯是一个中年的红光满面的人,一对小小的但却水汪汪的眼睛;一嘴胡子很凶地扭曲着,十分地刚硬,使得柔软无力的嘴唇藏匿在里面。哈尔也就二十来岁,挎着一只很大的柯尔特式自动手熗,一把猎刀,腰间的皮带上很匀地竖着一排子弹。这根皮带是他全身上下最平静的地方,它的平静宣告了他的无经验,还只是个羽毛未干的生手,绝对地单纯和幼稚。两个人很明显地是来自同一个地方,可他们为什么要冒险来到如此这般的北方却是个神秘的、需要理解的东西。
  巴克听着他们的闲聊,看见钱在这个人和政府代理人之间交换着。它知道这个半血统的苏格兰人、还有那个赶邮车的人和费兰柯斯、波罗特以及以前别的那些人一样,从此都要从它的生活中消失了……。
  巴克和它的伙伴们被一起赶到了它们新主人的帐篷前。它们看到一切都是马马乎乎、邋里邋遢的:帐篷支得松松散散,碗碟也没有洗,乱七八糟地扔在那里。巴克看见一位妇女,那人叫她莫希。她是查里斯的妻子,哈尔的姐姐。他们是一个很好的家庭。
  巴克忧虑地看着他们。他们放下了帐篷,支起了雪橇。他们干活的方式显得很不在行,怎么看都不象那么一回事。帐篷被卷成了一个捆,体积比别人捆得大三倍。那些碗碟没有洗就被混装在一起。莫希一直在傍边喋喋不休地指点着男人们,一个劲地说着废话、题着抗议和进行着规劝,唠唠叨叨地批评这个,建议那个。当他们把一麻袋衣服放在雪橇前面的时候,莫希建议这东西应该放到后面去;而他们把它放到后面了,并用另两捆东西把它压上时,她又发现了问题,说别的什么地方都能放,就是不能放到那里。于是他们就又把那麻袋卸了下来。
  邻居的帐篷里走出了三个人,看着他们,互相挤眉弄眼地咧嘴笑着。
  “你们装得太时髦了!太巧妙了!”其中一个喊:“我不是说你们干的这活儿。我是说,如果我是你们,我就不把帐篷带走。”“做梦!”莫希叫到,双手优美地摆了个姿势:“没有帐篷,我们怎么睡,睡在哪儿?”“这天气已经是春天了!你不会再受冻啦!”那人喊着。
  莫希果断地摇摇头。查里斯和哈尔把最后的大包小包横七竖八地堆在了雪橇上。
  “想想这能走吗?”有人问。
  “怎么不能!”查里斯简短地答到。
  “呕。那好吧,那好吧。”那人赶紧谦和地说:“我只是有点儿担……,算了。不说了。这看上去装得太好了!太好了!”查里斯转过身使劲地甩着鞭子,鞭子够不着。
  “当然了,这些狗会拉着这些新巧的设计一天到晚都走下去的!”另一个人断言说道。
  “当然了。”哈尔说着,冷冷地一手驾着舵一手挥着鞭子:“走!”他喊着:“出发!”狗们使劲地拉着胸带,僵持了一会儿,又松弛了下来。它们动不了雪橇一步。
  “这些懒虫!看我怎么教训你们!”他喊着,准备挥他的鞭子。莫希过来干涉了,叫道:“呕……哈尔!不能这样!”她一手抓住了鞭子,使劲地拧了下来。
  “它们多可怜呀!你要答应我,以后在路上你不能对它们这么严厉!否则我就不走了!”“你知道吗?这些狗你买贵了!”她弟弟嘲讽地冷笑着。“我希望你别管我,让我单独干。它们都太懒了!我告诉你,就是要多抽它们!它们才能向前走!它们就这德性!你去问问别人,你去问问那些人。”莫希恳求地看着他们,厌恶地没有说话,在她漂亮好看的脸上显出了一丝痛苦。
  “这些狗们都像水一样,太软、太弱了。你知道什么叫精疲力尽吗?”旁观者有人走过来说:“就是这个样子。它们需要休息!”“休息没用。”哈尔很固执。没有毛的嘴唇一张一和。
  莫希痛苦悲伤地咒骂着。
  但她是一个家族观念很强的人,她冲了过去护着她的兄弟:“别在乎他的话。”她机警地说:“你赶的是我们的狗。你要最好地善待它们。”哈尔的鞭子又一次落在了狗们的身上,它们又拼命地拉直了胸带。狗们的四肢陷在结了块的雪里,深深地踩在下面的冻冰上,用劲全力地向前、向前。但是雪橇好像抛了锚似地一动也不动。它们又一次用足了劲,雪橇还是纹丝不动。狗们停了下来,大口地喘着气。鞭子野蛮地落了下来。
  莫希又一次过来干涉了。她跪在巴克的前面,满含热泪地抱住了它的脖子。
  “亲爱的,你可怜可怜它们吧!”她同情地大喊:“为什么你这么狠心?你不能再挥鞭子了!”巴克不喜欢她这个样子,但它也感到这确实太悲惨了而不能拒绝她。巴克把这种方式当成是一天悲苦劳作的一部分了。
  一个旁观者,一直咬紧牙关压制着内心的火焰,现在开口了:“不是我在这里对你胡叫胡喊,我是为了这些狗。我只是想告诉你,你可以大大地帮它们拉起这雪橇。这些狗都快要冻僵了。你用身体靠着驾驶杆,你们两边都用劲推,雪橇就会动的。”第三次启动雪撬。这一次哈尔听从了那人的建议,他爆发似的驱赶着已经快要在雪里冻僵的狗们。超载而不宽的雪橇终于向前动了。巴克和它的伙伴们在雨点般的鞭子下狂暴地挣扎着。向前走100码后,拐个弯就能直直地下到主要的大道上。对这个堆得尖尖的雪橇来说,在这种道路上,本来需要有经验的赶狗人,显然哈尔还不是这样的人。
  当它们摇摇摆摆地到了拐弯处,雪橇就直冲了过去,松散的货物溅落到了地上。但狗们却没有停下,变轻了的雪橇从地上被拉起,紧随在狗们的身后。狗们愤怒了,因为它们受到了恶劣的对待和不公正的装载。巴克狂暴了,它猛地跑开了,狗们紧跟在它的身后也跑开了。哈尔大声地喊着:“混蛋!停下!停下!”可是它们不于理睬。哈尔跟着雪橇紧跑了几步就被甩了下来。变轻了的雪橇越过了他,被狗们拉着冲上了大街,冲过了狂欢愉快的斯克格瑞的主干道,雪橇上的货物撒得到处都是。
  有好心的市民帮着拦住了狗,并帮着收拢了洒落在各处的东西。他们还给了哈尔他们一些建议和劝告:如果他们还想去道森的话,就得把货物放下一半,再弄一倍的狗来。他们的建议就是这些。哈尔和他的姐夫不情愿地听着,又重新搭起了帐篷。他们仔细地检查着雪橇上的装备:捆绑的像罐筒似的货物被翻了出来,引得人们大笑。因为在长途旅行中这么多的货物捆绑成罐筒一样,那简直是在做梦。
  “这么多的毛毯都能办旅馆了。”过来帮忙的人笑着说:“有这一半都多了。把这些都扔掉吧!把这帐篷扔掉,还有这些碟子……谁去洗它们呀!我的老爷!你以为你们是在普儿曼旅行吗?”但事情还是很难改变,要扔掉多余的东西是不可能地。莫希叫着,当她的衣袋被扔在地上,一件又一件的东西被拉了出来时,她一直都在叫着。她尤其对那些被扔掉的东西大喊大叫,她不停地拍手,拍打着膝盖,前仰后倒、撕心裂肺地哭叫着。她扬言再也不往前走一步路了,说什么也不往前走了。她恳请着大家,留恋着每一样东西。最后,她终于擦去泪水,扔掉了那些她认为并不是很必要的东西。在她热情的恳请下,她把自己的事做完后,又去处理她的人的东西,在旁观者之间旋风般地穿来穿去。
  这件事办完后,又检查了一遍雪橇上的装备。虽然扔掉了一半,可留下来的东西仍然让人可怕。查里斯和哈尔晚上出去又买回了六条外面来的狗。这六条狗,加上原来的六条狗,再加上在创记录的去往瑞克热佩茨的路上加入进来的提克和库纳两只狗,使这只狗队的数目达到了十四只。
  但是实事求是地说,这些从外面来的狗,虽然自它们一踏上这个地区,就算是闯进来了,但是这六条狗是不能顶六条狗用的。三只是短毛的猎狗,一只是纽芬兰的狗,另外两只是确定不出什么种的杂种狗。这些新来者,看上去什么都不懂。巴克和它的同志们厌恶地看不起它们。虽然它迅速地教了它们,给它们指定了位置,并教了它们不能做什么,但巴克还是教不会它们应该做什么。它们从不驯服、从不老老实实地跟在路上。先不说那两条杂种狗,就说这其余的狗吧。在这野蛮陌生的环境中,在这种它们所收到的恶劣的对待中,它们发现自己很是为难,就是原有的灵气也被打掉了。至于那两条杂种狗,本来就没有一点儿精神,它们的骨头都好象很脆,随时都可能跨下来似的。
  带着对新来者的失望、甚至说是绝望,疲惫不堪的老狗们又踏上了两千五百英里的、连绵不断的征程。一路上的景色除了一片洁白、光亮和闪耀就再也没有什么。
  但这两个男人却是十分地自豪:他们带着十四条狗呢,这是一种新型的雪橇队呢!他们看到别的雪橇队,不管是从派司到道森的,还是从道森出来的,那些雪橇队都没有多达十四条狗的。
  在北极地区旅行,有一个说法:为什么十四条狗不能拉一架雪橇,因为一架雪橇装不下十四条狗的食物。但是查里斯和哈尔不知道这些,他们只是用铅笔计算了这次旅行:一只狗吃多少,有这么多狗、这么多天,又吃多少。他们只是论证了一下计算得对不对。莫希从他们的肩上看过去,信任地点点头。事情就是这么简单。
  第二天早上晚些时候,巴克领着长长的狗队走在街上。街上没有什么活泼的东西,没有狗来咬它和它的伙伴们,它们也都是死一般的疲倦。从盐水区到道森,巴克已经走了四次,对疲惫不堪已经有了深刻的认识,现在它又面对着同样的旅途,这使它更加痛苦。它的心不再工作了,狗队里别的狗们的心也都不再工作了。新来的那些狗们很是胆小,很是害怕,而原来的那些狗却又得不到它们主人的信任。
  巴克含含糊湖地感到,它依靠不了这两个男人和这个女人。他们不知道去做任何事,随着时间一天天地过去,事情变得很明显:他们不能学习。他们干什么事都松松垮垮,没有秩序,没有经过训练。安顿布置好一个很邋遢的帐篷要费去他们半夜的时间,而第二天要用半个早晨来拆帐篷。雪橇呢,装得很松散、但很时髦,可就是要在当天的另一个时间里把它停下来再重新装一遍。有好几天它们一天走不了十英里,还有几天它们根本就出发不了。没有一天它们能走完过去的那些人们根据对狗的进食来计算的一半路程。
  这样,狗们的食物就不可避免地短缺了,而它们的主人却又犹犹豫豫地由过量喂食过度到不给它们足够的食物。新来的这些狗们,它们的消化系统没有经受过长时期的饥饿,它们也没有经受过把吃下去的食物最大限度地、一点一滴地消化掉的训练,而是非常地贪吃。于是,当食物不够,再加上目前的这种状况,它们就更是加速地跨了下去。哈尔认为现在的定量太少了,就又给狗们加了一倍。加到最后,又冒尖了,胡加开了。当莫希美丽的眼睛里满含着泪水,喉咙颤抖地再也不能哄着弟弟再多给狗们一些吃的时,她就从他们自己吃的鱼袋里偷出些鱼来悄悄地喂给狗们。但这却又不是巴克和那些强壮的大狗们所需要的,它们需要的是休息。虽然它们现在每天走路的时间很少,但它们拉运的沉重的货物却使它们各个都用尽了力气。
  然后又不给足够的食物了。哈尔一天醒来,面对这样一个事实:狗的食物已经下去了一半,可路程才走完了四分之一。要命的是:再也没有爱、没有钱给狗们了,狗的食物再也不能增加了。于是他就又裁减了正规的狗食的配额,并试图增加每天的路程。他的姐姐和姐夫也赞成这样做,但他们还是被他们自己沉重的装备和他们自己的无能所挫败了。少给狗食是简单的,可想让狗们走的快一些是不可能的,而他们自己因无力做到在早晨早点上路,这又阻止了他们在白天多走几个小时。他们不仅不知道如何调教狗,而且他们还不知道如何使他们自己工作好。
  第一个要走掉的是塔布,它是一个可怜的、盲目犯错误的贼,总是被抓获、被惩治,可它还是一个忠于职守的工作者。它那扭伤的肩胛骨从没有得到过治疗、从没有得到过休息,并且一路上情况还越来越糟。直到最后,哈尔用他那支硕大的柯尔特左轮手熗向它开了一熗。
  这个地区正流传着一个说法,说是一只外地来的狗饿死了,死因是长期按照拉雪橇狗的定量吃食。因此,巴克以下的这六条外来的狗也是要死去的,因为它们目前吃的是拉雪橇狗的一半定量。那条纽芬兰狗先死了,接下来是那三条短毛猎狗。至于那两条杂种狗,虽然是那么坚韧不拔地不放弃生命,但最后也还是去了。
  到了这种时候,这三个苏格兰人所有的舒适、所有的彬彬有理、所有的绅士派头就都不见了。欢快的魅力、浪漫的情调都去得无影无踪。北极圈的旅行对他们变成了一种实实在在的严俊,对他们男性的人格和女性的人格都一样。莫希停止了对狗们的可怜的哭泣,换成了对她自己的悲伤,换成了和她丈夫、和她弟弟的争吵。争吵是一件他们从不感到疲倦的事。他们的烦躁来自他们的不幸,随着他们不幸的增加而增加,并且还有过之而无不及。这又使他们加倍地烦躁。别的男人们在这种苦役般的旅途中形成的那种惊人的沉默,那种甜美的语言和温柔的和气,在这两个男人和这个女人之间是荡然无存的了。对那种精彩的耐心,他们是一无所知的。他们很倔强,也很痛苦。他们的肌肉在疼痛,他们的骨头在疼痛,尤其是他们的心在疼痛。因为这些缘故,他们变得尖酸刻薄,话一出口就生硬无比,从早上到晚上一直如此。
  不管什么时候,只要莫希给他们一个机会,查里斯和哈尔就会争吵,他们每人都觉得干得比对方多,在什么场合下都不克制地表达出这个意思来。莫希有时偏向丈夫,有时又偏向兄弟,这样做得结果就使这一切变成了一场没完没了的家庭吵架。他们从劈柴生火开始,(这样的争吵只在查里斯和哈尔之间进行)拉拉扯扯地加上了家里的其它问题,又牵扯出了双方的父母、叔伯兄弟姐妹,好几千里以外的各色人等,其中有些已经过世了的人们也不能幸免。什么哈尔的有关艺术的观点,或者是一部他们舅父所写的有关社会的戏剧,都会参合到这个只须砍几根树枝就能去生火的话题中去,这其中还包括着要去加深理解。但是争论好象是倾向于查里斯的政治偏见的。而查里斯妹妹搬弄是非的语调也会和在这几千里外的于肯地区的雪堆中生的这堆火有关。这一切只有莫希明白,她使自己摆脱掉了对这种冗长话题的评论,只是偶而地对她丈夫家庭里的那些令人不愉快的特殊事情说上那么几句。而这些人们则只顾说话了,却没有把早就应该生起来的火生起来,帐篷也才拆了一半,至于狗呢却连喂都还没有去喂莫希正培育着一种特殊的不满,一种性别的不满。她很漂亮、很温顺,一直都很有骑士风度地打发着她所有的时光。可是目前,她的丈夫和弟弟对待她,却是样样都可以就是缺少了骑士风度。本来她一直都习惯于不去帮助别人,这就使他们很埋怨了。这种埋怨直接指向她的性别特权:她使得他们的生活再也不能忍受了。她不再考虑这些狗了,因为她已经极度地痛苦,极度地累了。她坚持乘坐在雪橇上。她是漂亮的、温顺的,但她有一百二十磅重,对这架由虚弱和饥饿的狗们所拉动的雪橇来说,这无疑又是无穷的负担。她白天乘坐在雪橇上,一直到雪橇停下了,她还是乘坐在雪橇上。查里斯和哈尔让她下来走走,和她争辩着,向她抗议着、恳求着。可她却一昧地一而再、再而三地向老天沮咒着他们的残忍和暴行。
  终于有了一个机会,他们用力把她拉下了雪橇。(他们发誓再也不这么做了。)莫希瘸着腿像个被人抢去东西的孩子似的向前走着,一会儿就一屁股坐在了道上。他们继续走着自己的路,但她却再也不能动了。他们往前走了三英里,卸掉了雪橇反过来找她,又用力地把她扶上了雪撬。
  越过他们自己的不幸,他们无情地对待着他们的动物。哈尔有个理论,这个理论他在别人身上实践过:那就是一个人应该冷酷。他开始用这套来对待他的姐姐和姐夫,当这一套不灵了他就用棒子棒打那些狗。在五指峰地区,狗食用完了。一个老的掉了牙的老婆子提议和他们做一笔买卖:用几磅冻僵了的马皮交换那支一直在哈尔臀部,陪着那把大猎刀的柯儿特式左轮手熗。这种马皮能代替可怜的食物。这些马皮像是放马人六个月前从饿死的马身上割下来的,在冻僵的状态下,就更像是通过了电的钢丝一样。当狗们用劲力气将马皮咬碎咽到肚里时,这些马皮就融化成了细小的没有养分的皮条,变成一团团短的毛发。这很不容易消化,胃很容易发炎。
  面对着这一切,巴克艰难地走在队伍的前面。就像在睡梦中一样,只要能拉它就向前拉着。当它再也不能向前拉了,它就倒下来,躺在那里,任凭皮鞭大棒落在身上。它又站了起来,茂盛而美丽的皮毛的光泽已不再出现。那毛发悬了下来,柔软而无力,湿漉漉的那么脏,上面布满了哈尔留给它的褪了色的干血。它的体力消耗了、肌肉消瘦了,变成了多结节的皮条。四肢上的肉已经消失不见了。线条显现在它身架里的每根肋条上,透过那张松弛的、因没有了脂肪而起皱的空空的狗皮,每块骨头都已清清楚楚地露了出来。这是很令人伤心的。只有巴克的心不那么悲痛。那个穿红毛线衣的人早已经证明了这一点。
  巴克就这么过着,它的伙伴们也这么过着,它们的骨骼都已经松散了。包括巴克现在共有七条狗,在极大的悲痛之中,它们对皮鞭的叮咬和大棒的撞击,已经变得毫无知觉,挨打的痛苦也模糊了、遥远了。就像它们目之所见、耳之所闻的东西已经模糊了、遥远了一样,它们各个都是半死不活或是半死不活的一半了。它们只不过是个装了骨头的袋子。在这些袋子里生命火花的闪击已经是很弱很弱。当那些并无建筑物的车站到了的时候,它们就像死狗一样倒在路上,生命之光虚弱的看上去就要熄灭了,而当大棒和鞭子又落在身上的时候,这种生命的火花又轻轻地振击了一下,于是它们就趔趔趄趄地站了起来、摇摇晃晃地又向前走了。
  这样的一天到了,那个好性子的比利倒了下来,再也不能站起。哈尔的左轮手熗已经做了交易。于是当比利躺在路上时哈尔就用斧子敲击了它的头,然后把它的死尸从绳套上割了下来拖向一边。这一切巴克看见了,它的同伴们也看见了,并且都知道这种事情已经离它们很近了。
  第二天库纳去了,它们只剩下五只狗了。乔,已经病入膏肓,再不能加病了。派克,早已残废,走路一瘸一拐地,现在只有一半清醒,已不能意识到疾病。索迩莱克斯,独眼地挣扎在苦难的征途上,为它只有那么一点点力气往前走着而悲伤。提克在冬天从没走过这么远的路,因为是个新来者,它比别的狗挨的打更多。而巴克仍然在狗队的前面,但现在已不再强迫实施纪律了,或者可以说不再拼命地强迫实施纪律了。极度地虚弱使巴克有一半时间是在盲目地向前走,它只是靠着四肢摸模糊糊的感觉,朦朦胧胧地行走在路上。
  已经是美丽的春天了。可是狗们不知道这一点,人们也还不知道这一点。每天,太阳升得更早了,落得更晚了。早晨三点钟天就亮了,而黄昏则磨磨蹭蹭地延迟到了九点钟,整个漫长的白天都是阳光灿烂的。可怕而又寂静的冬天让位给了伟大的能唤起“沙沙沙”生命之声而日见走近的春天。这种“沙沙沙”春天的脚步声来自所有的土地,它充满着生命的快乐。它来自那些又一次生活过、运动过的事物中,来自那些在漫长的冬季月份里不运动、似乎是死去的事物中。树汁从松树中流了出来,柳树和白杨萌发出了幼小的嫩芽,灌木丛和葡萄树披上了绿色的盛装。夜晚,蟋蟀在低唱。而在白天,所有偷偷爬着的东西都悉悉娑娑地爬向太阳。鹧鸪和啄木鸟的叫声、敲击声在森林里轰响着,松鼠们在闲聊,小鸟们在歌唱,南方来的大雁鸣叫着从头顶飞过,像一个个楔子动人地挤在蓝天白云之间。潺潺流水从每个小山的斜坡上流下,看不见的泉水所发出的叮咚声传向四方。万物都融化了,都柔软了,都怒放了。于肯地区的大地正用劲将束缚住它一冬的冰拉断,大地在冰下蠕动着,而太阳则在贪婪地吮吸着春天的乳汁。冰面上形成了一个个气孔,裂缝展开了去,一块块薄冰成块地落入河水中。在这所有的断裂、撕碎、唤醒生命的悸动中,在燃烧着的太阳下面,在迎面吹来的微风中,天涯行路人——两个男人,一个女人,还有一群骨瘦如柴只有空驱壳的狗们正摇摇晃晃地徒步走向死亡。
  随着狗们的趔趔趄趄、站立不稳,莫希坐在雪橇上又哭开了,哈尔毫无恶意地咒骂着,查里斯的双眼里充满了泪水。他们踉踉跄跄地走进了位于白河河口、约翰。桑顿的营地。
  一停下,狗们就仿佛是被抽打死了似的一下子躺倒在地上。莫希哭干了的双眼看着约翰。桑顿。查里斯走到一根木头旁想休息,他十分缓慢地坐了下来,不辞辛苦地抚摩着那双已经僵硬了的双腿。哈尔和约翰。桑顿在交谈。约翰削着一根桦木枝想做成一把斧子柄,他削着、听着、不时发出一些单音节的音来。被问起了,就简单明了地给出建议。他知道这种血统的人,不管你给出的建议有多确实,他都不会照着办的。
  “他们说,前面的冰面上没路了,我们最好是绕过去。”哈尔说着,体会着桑顿的警告:对那些融化了的冰没有更多的选择:“我们听人说,不能在白河逞能。可我们现在到了白河了!”说着最后这句话,哈尔的嘴角上露着一种嘲笑。
  “他们说的是对的!”约翰。桑顿回答道:“这河冰随时都会没有的。只有傻瓜,瞎碰运气的傻瓜才会走下去的。我直接告诉你吧,就是把阿拉斯加所有的金子都给我,我也不会冒险把我的尸体放到那些冰面上的。”“我想这都是因为你不是傻瓜!”哈尔说着:“我们也一样!我们继续往道森走!”他解开鞭子:“起来,巴克!嗨!起来!上路!”桑顿继续削着。他知道在傻瓜和笨蛋之间还有一种人,那就是懒汉。要是有两三个傻瓜在一起,那就多多少少都不愿改变他们即定的计划,而还要一昧蛮干到底的。
  但是走进驿站后再把狗们打醒却费了很长时间,整个狗队在命令下就是站不起来。鞭子在四下里闪着,劈头盖脸地落了下来,执行着残忍的使命。约翰。桑顿咬着嘴唇。
  索迩莱克斯第一个爬起了腿;提克跟着也动了起来;接着是乔,痛苦地叫着、吼着;派克费劲地努着力,它站了两次都在中途倒下了,第三次它又挣扎着试图要再站起来;巴克没有做什么努力,它平静地躺在一开始就躺着的地方。鞭子一下又一下地撕咬着它,可它既没有悲哀地叫也没有挣扎地躲。有好几次,桑顿好象要开始说话了。鞭子继续击打着,他站了起来犹豫不决地走了过去。
  这是巴克第一次的失败,它本来是有充分的理由对着哈尔发出它的狂怒的。哈尔扔掉了鞭子换上了大棒。
  现在更重的打击雨点般地落在了巴克的身上,可它仍然拒绝动一动。它象它的那些同伴一样,要是努力也可以站起来。但它不想像它的同伴那样,它已经下定决心不站起来。它有一种模糊的感觉:毁灭的命运就在眼前了。这种想法一直很强烈地出现在它的脑海里,当它拉着雪橇上了河岸,这种想法就一直没有和它分开。它整天都能感觉到:在它的脚下,那薄薄的、已融化了的冰是什么东西,那东西看上去好似灾难正在向它走来,它的主人正驱赶着它们向着冰的里面奔去。它不愿惹麻烦,它不愿盲动。因此它遭受的苦难越大,它的叛逆精神就把它带的越远。哈尔的打击没有伤害它多少。随着这种打击不断地落到它身上,它生命力中的火花就闪烁了起来,并且再也不熄灭了,那火花几乎就要出来了。它感到了一种陌生的麻木,这麻木好似来自遥远的地方。它知道它正在挨打,最后的痛苦感觉正在离开它。它不再感觉到别的什么了,它能听到那根大棒正一下一下地落在它的身上,虽然非常模糊。但那已不再是它的身体了,它的身体看上去是那么远、那么远、那么远……
  就在这时,突然,毫无任何预兆地,有人在大喊。发音很不清楚,更像是一只野兽在大吼。约翰。桑顿挺立在正挥舞大棒的人面前。哈尔猛地向后退了一步,仿佛眼前立着一棵大树。莫希尖叫了起来。查里斯擦去泪水不满地望着,但他站不起来,因为他的腿太僵硬了。
  约翰。桑顿走向哈尔,搏斗中他控制了他。
  约翰。桑顿声震环宇,愤怒地说:“如果你再打这只狗,我就杀了你!”他终于努力地用令人窒息的声音说出了这句话。
  “这是我的狗!”哈尔叫着。反击时顺手擦去了嘴角流出的血:“你给我走开,要不我就要修理修理你!我要去道森!”桑顿站在他和巴克之间,毫无让开的意思。哈尔抽出了长长的猎刀。莫希尖声叫着,大哭,接着又大笑,显然歇斯底里地听任着眼前的混乱。桑顿使劲地用斧柄敲击了哈尔的指关节,将刀子打落在地。哈尔去拣刀,他又一下用斧柄打在他的手上。然后他停住了,亲自把刀拣了起来,两下子割断了巴克的绳索。
  哈尔看着桑顿去行动,没有想再打。他用手臂扶着了他姐姐,或者确切地说,是他姐姐扶着了他。
  巴克快要死了,不能再拉雪橇了。
  不一会儿其余的狗们拉着雪橇过了河岸,下到了河里。巴克听到它们去了,抬起头来看:只见派克打头,索迩莱克斯殿后,中间是乔和提克。它们一瘸一拐、趔趔趄趄地前进着。莫希坐在满载的雪橇上,哈尔掌着驾驶杆,查里斯在最后,跌跌撞撞地往前走着。
  巴克看着他们。桑顿跪在它旁边,用粗糙友善的双手模索着,看看有没有被打断的骨头。他发现巴克除了很多外伤和可怕的饥饿以外没有什么。
  这时哈尔的雪橇已走出四分之一英里远了,这边的狗和人看着那边的雪橇慢慢地爬行在冰面上。突然他们看到雪橇的后部掉了下去,好象有很大的惯性,那根哈尔用来支撑什么的驾驶杆竟一下子升到了空中。莫希的尖叫声传了过来,他们看到查里斯转过身向后跑着。接着整个冰面下陷了,狗和人都不见了。冰面上只能看到一个洞,好象一个正在打着哈欠的嘴。
  雪橇走过的路径从冰面上退下去了。
  约翰。桑顿和巴克互相看着。
  “你这个可怜的魔鬼。”约翰。桑顿说。
  巴克添着他的手。  


执素衣

ZxID:13389413


等级: 内阁元老
举报 只看该作者 地板   发表于: 2013-10-08 0


CHAPTER 4

WHO HAS WON TO MASTERSHIP

"Eh? What I say? I speak true when I say dat Buck two devils."
This was Francois's speech next morning when he discovered Spitz missing and Buck covered with wounds. He drew him to the fire and by its light pointed them out.
"Dat Spitz fight like hell," said Perrault, as he surveyed the gaping rips and cuts.
"An' dat Buck fight like two hells," was Francois's answer. "And now we make good time. No more Spitz, no more trouble, sure."
While Perrault packed the camp outfit and loaded the sled, the dog-driver proceeded to harness the dogs. Buck trotted up to the place Spitz would have occupied as leader; but Francois, not noticing him, brought Sol-leks to the coveted position. In his judgment, Sol-leks was the best lead-dog left. Buck sprang upon Sol-leks in a fury, driving him back and standing in his place.
"Eh? Eh?" Francois cried, slapping his thighs gleefully. "Look at dat Buck. Him kill dat Spitz, him think to take de job."
"Go 'way, Hook!" he cried, but Buck refused to budge.
He took Buck by the scruff of the neck, and though the dog growled threateningly, dragged him to one side and replaced Sol-leks. The old dog did not like it, and showed plainly that he was afraid of Buck. Francois was obdurate, but when he turned his back, Buck again displaced Sol-leks, who was not at all unwilling to go.
Francois was angry. "Now, by Gar, I fix you!" he cried, coming back with a heavy club in his hand.
Buck remembered the man in the red sweater, and retreated slowly; nor did he attempt to charge in when Sol-leks was once more brought forward. But he circled just beyond the range of the club, snarling with bitterness and rage; and while he circled he watched the club so as to dodge it if thrown by Francois, for he was become wise in the way of clubs.
The driver went about his work, and he called to Buck when he was ready to put him in his old place in front of Dave. Buck retreated two or three steps. Francois followed him up, whereupon he again retreated. After some time of this, Francois threw down the club, thinking that Buck feared a thrashing. But Buck was in open revolt. He wanted, not to escape a clubbing, but to have the leadership. It was his by right. He had earned it, and he would not be content with less.
Perrault took a hand. Between them they ran him about for the better part of an hour. They threw clubs at him. He dodged. They cursed him, and his fathers and mothers before him, and all his seed to come after him down to the remotest generation, and every hair on his body and drop of blood in his veins; and he answered curse with snarl and kept out of their reach. He did not try to run away, but retreated around and around the camp, advertising plainly that when his desire was met, he would come in and be good.
Francois sat down and scratched his head. Perrault looked at his watch and swore. Time was flying, and they should have been on the trail an hour gone. Francois scratched his head again. He shook it and grinned sheepishly at the courier, who shrugged his shoulders in sign that they were beaten. Then Francois went up to where Sol-leks stood and called to Buck. Buck laughed, as dogs laugh, yet kept his distance. Francois unfastened Sol-leks's traces and put him back in his old place. The team stood harnessed to the sled in an unbroken line, ready for the trail. There was no place for Buck save at the front. Once more Francois called, and once more Buck laughed and kept away.
"Throw down de club," Perrault commanded.
Francois complied, whereupon Buck trotted in, laughing triumphantly, and swung around into position at the head of the team. His traces were fastened, the sled broken out, and with both men running they dashed out on to the river trail.
Highly as the dog-driver had forevalued Buck, with his two devils, he found, while the day was yet young, that he had undervalued. At a bound Buck took up the duties of leadership; and where judgment was required, and quick thinking and quick acting, he showed himself the superior even of Spitz, of whom Francois had never seen an equal.
But it was in giving the law and making his mates live up to it, that Buck excelled. Dave and Sol-leks did not mind the change in leadership. It was none of their business. Their business was to toil, and toil mightily, in the traces. So long as that was not interfered with, they did not care what happened. Billee, the good-natured, could lead for all they cared, so long as he kept order. The rest of the team, however, had grown unruly during the last days of Spitz, and their surprise was great now that Buck proceeded to lick them into shape.
Pike, who pulled at Buck's heels, and who never put an ounce more of his weight against the breastband than he was compelled to do, was swiftly and repeatedly shaken for loafing; and ere the first day was done he was pulling more than ever before in his life. The first night in camp, Joe, the sour one, was punished soundly--a thing that Spitz had never succeeded in doing. Buck simply smothered him by virtue of superior weight, and cut him up till he ceased snapping and began to whine for mercy.
The general tone of the team picked up immediately. It recovered its old-time solidarity, and once more the dogs leaped as one dog in the traces. At the Rink Rapids two native huskies, Teek and Koona, were added; and the celerity with which Buck broke them in took away Francois's breath.
"Never such a dog as dat Buck!" he cried. "No, never! Him worth one thousand dollair, by Gar! Eh? What you say, Perrault?"
And Perrault nodded. He was ahead of the record then, and gaining day by day. The trail was in excellent condition, well packed and hard, and there was no new-fallen snow with which to contend. It was not too cold. The temperature dropped to fifty below zero and remained there the whole trip. The men rode and ran by turn, and the dogs were kept on the jump, with but infrequent stop-pages.
The Thirty Mile River was comparatively coated with ice, and they covered in one day going out what had taken them ten days coming in. In one run they made a sixty-mile dash from the foot of Lake LeBarge to the White Horse Rapids. Across Marsh, Tagish, and Bennett (seventy miles of lakes), they flew so fast that the man whose turn it was to run towed behind the sled at the end of a rope. And on the last night of the second week they topped White Pass and dropped down the sea slope with the lights of Skaguay and of the shipping at their feet.
It was a record run. Each day for fourteen days they had averaged forty miles. For three days Perrault and Francois threw chests up and down the main street of Skaguay and were deluged with invitations to drink, while the team was the constant center of a worshipful crowd of dogbusters and mushers. Then three or four western bad men aspired to clean out the town, were riddled like pepperboxes for their pains, and public interest turned to other idols. Next came official orders. Francois called Buck to him, threw his arms around him, wept over him. And that was the last of Francois and Perrault. Like other men, they passed out of Buck's life for good.
A Scotch half-breed took charge of him and his mates, and in company with a dozen other dog-teams he started back over the weary trail to Dawson. It was no light running now, nor record time, but heavy toil each day, with a heavy load behind; for this was the mail train, carrying word from the world to the men who sought gold under the shadow of the Pole.
Buck did not like it, but he bore up well to the work, taking pride in it after the manner of Dave and Sol-leks, and seeing that his mates, whether they prided in it or not, did their fair share. It was a monotonous life, operating with machine-like regularity. One day was very like another. At a certain time each morning the cooks turned out, fires were built, and breakfast was eaten. Then, while some broke camp, others harnessed the dogs, and they were under way an hour or so before the darkness fell which gave warning of dawn. At night, camp was made. Some pitched the tents, others cut firewood and pine boughs for the beds, and still others carried water or ice for the cooks. Also, the dogs were fed. To them, this was the one feature of the day, though it was good to loaf around, after the fish was eaten, for an hour or so with the other dogs, of which there were fivescore and odd. There were fierce fighters among them, but three battles with the fiercest brought Buck to mastery, so that when he bristled and showed his teeth, they got out of his way.
Best of all, perhaps, he loved to lie near the fire, hind legs crouched under him, fore legs stretched out in front, head raised, and eyes blinking drearily at the flames. Sometimes he thought of Judge Miller's big house in the sun-kissed Santa Clara Valley, and of the cement swimming tank, and Ysabel, the Mexican hairless, and Toots, the Japanese pug; but oftener he remembered the man in the red sweater, the death of Curly, the great fight with Spitz and the good things he had eaten or would like to eat. He was not homesick. The Sunland was very dim and distant, and such memories had no power over him. Far more potent were the memories of his heredity that gave things he had never seen before a seeming familiarity; the instincts (which were but the memories of his ancestors become habits) which had lapsed in later days, and still later, in him, quickened and became alive again.
Sometimes as he crouched there, blinking dreamily at the flames, it seemed that the flames were of another fire, and that as he crouched by this other fire he saw another and different man from the half-breed cook before him. This other man was shorter of leg and longer of arm, with muscles that were stringy and knotty rather than rounded and swelling. The hair of this man was long and matted, and his head slanted back under it from the eyes. He uttered strange sounds, and seemed very much afraid of the darkness, into which he peered continually, clutching in his hand, which hung midway between knee and foot, a stick with a heavy stone made fast to the end. He was all but naked, a ragged and fire-scorched skin hanging part way down his back, but on his body there was much hair. In some places, across the chest and shoulders and down the outside of the arms and thighs, it was matted into almost a thick fur. He did not stand erect, but with trunk inclined forward from the hips, on legs that bent at the knees. About his body there was a peculiar springiness, or resiliency, almost catlike, and a quick alertness as of one who lived in perpetual fear of things seen and unseen.
At other times this hairy man squatted by the fire with head between his legs and slept. On such occasions his elbows were on his knees, his hands clasped above his head as though to shed rain by the hairy arms. And beyond that fire, in the circling darkness, Buck could see many gleaming coals, two by two, always two by two, which he knew to be the eyes of great beasts of prey. And he could hear the crashing of their bodies through the undergrowth, and the noises they made in the night. And dreaming there by the Yukon bank, with lazy eyes blinking at the fire, these sounds and sights of another world would make the hair to rise along his back and stand on end across his shoulders and up his neck, till he whimpered low and suppressedly, or growled softly, and the half-breed cook shouted at him, "Hey, you Buck, wake up!" Whereupon the other world would vanish and the real world come into his eyes, and he would get up and yawn and stretch as though he had been asleep.
It was a hard trip, with the mail behind them, and the heavy work wore them down. They were short of weight and in poor condition when they made Dawson, and should have had a ten days' or a week's rest at least. But in two days' time they dropped down the Yukon bank from the Barracks, loaded with letters for the outside. The dogs were tired, the drivers grumbling, and to make matters worse, it snowed every day. This meant a soft trail, greater friction on the runners, and heavier pulling for the dogs; yet the drivers were fair through it all, and did their best for the animals.
Each night the dogs were attended to first. They ate before the drivers ate, and no man sought his sleeping-robe till he had seen to the feet of the dogs he drove. Still, their strength went down. Since the beginning of the winter they had traveled eighteen hundred miles, dragging sleds the whole weary distance; and eighteen hundred miles will tell upon life of the toughest. Buck stood it, keeping his mates up to their work and maintaining discipline, though he too was very tired. Billee cried and whimpered regularly in his sleep each night. Joe was sourer than ever, and Sol-leks was unapproachable, blind side or other side.
But it was Dave who suffered most of all. Something had gone wrong with him. He became more morose and irritable, and when camp was pitched at once made his nest, where his driver fed him. Once out of the harness and down, he did not get on his feet again till harness-up time in the morning. Sometimes, in the traces, when jerked by a sudden stoppage of the sled, or by straining to start it, he would cry out with pain. The driver examined him, but could find nothing. All the drivers became interested in his case. They talked it over at meal-time, and over their last pipes before going to bed, and one night they held a consultation. He was brought from his nest to the fire and was pressed and prodded till he cried out many times. Something was wrong inside, but they could locate no broken bones, could not make it out.
By the time Cassiar Bar was reached, he was so weak that he was falling repeatedly in the traces. The Scotch half-breed called a halt and took him out of the team, making the next dog, Sol-leks, fast to the sled. His intention was to rest Dave, letting him run free behind the sled. Sick as he was, Dave resented being taken out, grunting and growling while the traces were unfastened, and whimpering broken-heartedly when he saw Sol-leks in the position he had held and served so long. For the pride of trace and trail was his, and, sick unto death, he could not bear that another dog should do his work.
When the sled started, he floundered in the soft snow alongside the beaten trail, attacking Sol-leks with his teeth, rushing against him and trying to thrust him off into the soft snow on the other side, striving to leap inside his traces and get between him and the sled, and all the while whining and yelping and crying with grief and pain. The half-breed tried to drive him away with the whip; but he paid no heed to the stinging lash, and the man had not the heart to strike harder. Dave refused to run quietly on the trail behind the sled, where the going was easy, but continued to flounder alongside in the soft snow, where the going was most difficult, till exhausted. Then he fell, and lay where he fell, howling lugubriously as the long train of sleds churned by.
With the last remnant of his strength he managed to stagger along behind till the train made another stop, when he floundered past the sleds to his own, where he stood alongside Sol-leks. His driver lingered a moment to get a light for his pipe from the man behind. Then he returned and started his dogs. They swung out on the trail with remarkable lack of exertion, turned their heads uneasily, and stopped in surprise. The driver was surprised, too; the sled had not moved. He called his comrades to witness the sight. Dave had bitten through both of Sol-lek's traces, and was standing directly in front of the sled in his proper place.
He pleaded with his eyes to remain there. The driver was perplexed. His comrades talked of how a dog could break its heart through being denied the work that killed it, and recalled instances they had known, where dogs, too old for the toil, or injured, had died because they were cut out of the traces. Also, they held it a mercy, since Dave was to die anyway, that he should die in the traces, heart-easy and content. So he was harnessed in again, and proudly he pulled as of old, though more than once he cried out involuntarily from the bite of his inward hurt. Several times fell down and was dragged in the traces, and once the sled ran upon him so that he limped thereafter on one of his hind legs.
But he held out till camp was reached, when his driver made a place for him by the fire. Morning found him too weak to travel. At harness-up time he tried to crawl to his driver. By convulsive efforts he got on his feet, staggered, and fell. Then he wormed his way forward slowly toward where the harnesses were being put on his mates. He would advance his fore legs and drag up his body with a sort of hitching movement, when he would advance his fore legs and hitch ahead again for a few more inches. His strength left him, and the last his mates saw of him he lay gasping in the snow and yearning toward them. But they could hear him mournfully howling till they passed out of sight behind a belt of river timber.
Here the train was halted. The Scotch half-breed slowly retraced his steps to the camp they had left. The men ceased talking. A revolver-shot rang out. The man came back hurriedly. The whips snapped, the bells tinkled merrily, the sleds churned along the trail; but Buck knew, and every dog knew, what had taken place behind the belt of river trees.



第四章 谁赢得了支配权

  
     “厄?我怎么说得了?我说得总对吧!该死的巴克能顶两个魔鬼!”
     这是第二天早晨费兰柯斯的话。当他发现斯佩茨不见了,而巴克则遍体鳞伤,他就把巴克拉到火堆边,借着亮光把队友请了过来:“该死的斯佩茨,作起战来像魔鬼一样,你看把巴克咬的。”费兰柯斯说着,观察着巴克浑身到处裂开的口子。
     “挨千刀的巴克要是争起来那就是两个魔鬼。现在可好了,好日子来了。没有了斯佩茨,就没有麻烦了,这是肯定的!”
     波罗特捆绑着营地的器具,装上了雪橇,赶狗人开始给狗们套挽具了。巴克快步走到斯佩茨的位置,那意思是要当领头狗。但费兰柯斯没有注意到这一点,而是把索迩莱克斯领到了这个令群狗们都向往的位置上。依他的判断,他认为索迩莱克斯是最好的领头狗。     巴克愤怒地跳到了索尔莱克斯的前面,把它赶到了身后,自己站到了那个位置上。
     “厄?厄?”费兰柯斯极高心地拍着大腿喊了起来:“看看这个该死的巴克!它杀死了斯佩茨,它还想要干它的工作!”
     “走开!你这个家伙!”他喊到。但巴克却拒绝动一动。
     他抓住巴克脖子上的皮,巴克恐吓地咆哮着表示不满。他把巴克拉向一边,又换上了索迩莱克斯。索迩莱克斯不喜欢这个样子,平静地表示了它害怕巴克。费兰克斯仍很冷酷而顽固。但当他转过身时,巴克又一次把并非不想去的索迩莱克斯换掉了。
     费兰克斯生气了:“听着,你这个坏家伙,我就把你放到这里!”他叫喊着,反转过身来,手里拿着一根大棒子。
     巴克想起了那个穿红毛线衣的人,就慢慢地退了下来,它再也不企图换下索迩莱克斯了。索迩莱克斯又一次向前走来。巴克转着圈子,苦涩而愤怒地叫着,看着费兰克斯是否把大棒子砸下来。因为它对大棒已经变得聪明了。
     赶狗人开始干他的活,他叫着巴克,准备把它安置在戴夫前面它原来的位置上。巴克退了两三步,费兰克斯向它跟前走了几步,它又退了几步。这个样子过了一会儿,费兰克斯扔掉大棒,认为巴克是害怕挨打。但巴克却公开地叛变了。它想,不是要逃避大棒,而是要谋求领导地位。这地位是它的权力,它已经赢得了这种权力,并且它还不想让这种权力的分量有缩减少。
     波罗特走过来帮把手。他们两个追着抓它费了半个多小时。他们向它扔棒子,它躲开这些棒子。他们骂它,骂它的父母,父母的父母,骂它的最远古的祖先传下来的子子孙孙,骂它身体上的每一根毛发,骂它血管里流动着的每一滴鲜血。它不想跑开,但却围着营地转来转去。很明白地表明,它的要求只是要礼遇,它要进来,它要被善待。
     费兰克斯坐了下来,挠着他的头。波罗特看着表骂着。时间过得飞快,他们应该一个小时前就上路了。费兰克斯又挠挠他的头,他使劲地摇着脑袋,不好意思地对着那个秘密人员露齿笑着。对方耸耸肩,表示他们正在很被动,并被击败了。然后费兰克斯走到索迩莱克斯站着的地方,叫巴克。巴克用狗的方式笑了,可它还是站在那里保持着一段距离。费兰克斯松开了索迩莱克斯的挽绳,把它拉回到原来的位置。狗队套着雪橇的装置原地未动,随时准备着要出发。巴克站在前面,但它觉得还是不安全。费兰克斯又叫了它一次,它又笑着跑开了。
     “把棒子扔掉!”波罗特命令道。
     费兰柯斯同意了。巴克快步走了过来,得意洋洋地笑着,在队伍领头的位置上跳来跳去。它的挽绳套紧了,队伍出发了。两个赶狗人领着,冲向河边。
     赶狗人如此屈尊看中巴克。要知道他们两个本身就都是魔鬼一样的人,在他们看来,就连今天这天气都还早着呢。他们过去还真是把巴克这家伙给低估了。
     在一个限度内,巴克担当了领导的角色。它知道什么地方需要判断,需要快速思考,需要快速行动。它在各方面都表现出了超过斯佩茨的能力,这些都是费兰克斯过去从来都没有看见过能与之相匹配的。
     这是一种把自己的意志强加于同伴,并使同伴快活起来的行为。而巴克很成功地做到了这一点。戴夫和索迩莱克斯并不在呼领导的改变,这不是它们的事,它们的工作就是受苦,在旅途中忍受巨大的苦难。只要它们不受到干涉,它们就不关心发生了什么。比利,它一直都是好性子,它能满足对它的所有要求,只让它听从命令就行了。但狗队里的其他成员,在斯佩茨的最后日子里,已经变得很是任性了。但它们现在的吃惊是巨大的,巴克已经把它们都给整顿好了。
     派克紧跟在巴克后面,它的胸带上从来都不少拉半点强迫给它拉的重量。它快速地、重复地拉着、向前跑着。在这第一天的前半部份时间里,它拉的东西超过了它一辈子任何一个同样的时候。在营地的第一个晚上,乔,那个瘦骨如柴的狗,被狠狠地教训了一下。这在斯佩茨时代是从来没有被成功地做倒过的。巴克只是简单地用它超重的体重压在它的身上,一直压得它停止嚎叫,开始可怜而悲哀的呜咽。
     整个队伍的基调、主旋律被鼓动起来了,队伍恢复了往日的团结,整个狗队又一次像一只狗那样行进在征途上了。在一个叫快速划冰场的地区,又加进来了两只当地强壮的狗,替克和库那。巴克的名声打破了群狗们对费兰克斯的服从。
     “从没有一只像巴克这样的狗!”费兰克斯叫道:“是的,从来没有!它值一千元!上帝呀!你说呢?波罗特!”
     波罗特点头称是。他早就有这样的想法,而且一天比一天强烈。旅行处在绝佳的状态之中:货物装得好、装得结实、老天也没有下新的雪来打搅、天也不是很冷,气温只降到零下五十度。整个征途一直如此。两个赶狗人轮换着,或坐雪橇或在旁边奔跑。而狗们一直都在奋勇向前,很少有停顿。
     三十里河的冰比较厚。他们一天里奔过的路程在过去要跑上十天。在一个奔跑的全天里,他们从理?巴杰湖边一气跑了六十英里到达了名叫白马快奔的地区。接着又跨过了叫玛石的沼泽地、塔给石地区和七十英里的奔呐特湖。他们飞快地奔跑着,使得轮流在雪橇下面跑着的那个人被雪橇绳子的一端一路都在拖着跑。第二周的最后一个晚上,他们登上了白芒芒的派思山的顶端,又沿着斜坡一路下到海边山脚下被满船灯火照得通亮的斯卡歌瑞城。这是一个创记录的奔跑,十四天里他们平均每天都要奔跑四十英里。
     在到达斯卡哥瑞城后的三天时间里,费兰柯斯和波罗特在城内的主要大街上颠三倒四、跌     跌撞撞,到处应邀和人喝酒。而狗队则在那些非凡的狗和长途旅行者之中成了一伙被崇拜、被尊敬的不变的中心。其时,有三四个西部的坏家伙渴望着要向全城的人挑战,他们和那些急性子的受苦人打谜语,于是大家的兴趣就都转到那方面去了。接下来就来了官方批准的命令。费兰柯斯把巴克叫到了跟前,楼着它的脖子,哭了。这是费兰柯斯和波罗特最亲密的表达友情的方式了。和别的人一样,他们为了一些货物而忘掉了巴克们的命,他们把巴克它们换给了别人。
     一个半血统的苏格兰人负责巴克和它的那些有十几只狗做 同伴的狗队。它们将沿着那疲倦的踪迹再返回到道森地区去。现在往那儿跑已经没有了月光,也用不着记录时间了,有的只是每天繁重的苦役,后面拖着沉重的货物。因为这是辆邮件雪橇车,装着世界各地的人给在这极地附近寻找黄金的人的话。
     巴克不喜欢这样,但它还能挺得住。仿照戴夫和索迩莱克斯的方式,它是很以为骄傲的。看看它的那些同伴们,它们是否也以此为骄傲,分享着它们公平的那一份呢?这是一种单调的生活,像机器一样地有规律,这一天和那一天一摸一样。每天早晨,在一个固定的时间里,炊事员转了出来,火生了起来,大家把早饭吃了。然后一些被撕裂了的帐篷和别的什么器具装上了狗车,他们就上路了。一两个小时后,黑夜完全降了下去,警示着黎明的到来。到了晚上,选好了营地。一些人支帐篷,另些人砍木柴,用松树枝做床。还有一些人化冰、烧水和做饭。狗们也被喂了,它们加起来有一百多只呢。在给它们喂了鱼后,有一两个小时可以和别的狗闲逛闲逛。当然闲荡也是一件好事,但仅只如此,这就是它们一天的特色。它们中有凶猛的战士。在经过最激烈的三次战斗后,巴克掌握了控制整个狗队的权力。以至于当它竖起狗毛发怒地显示它的牙齿时,狗们就都走开了。
     最首要的,也许是,巴克喜欢蹲在火堆边。后腿蹲下,前腿伸到前面,头抬起来,眼睛闪着梦幻的光。有时侯它想起了法官磨房主,和那所处于太阳能亲吻到的桑塔?克拉拉山谷的大房子;想起那个水泥做成的游泳池;想起伊斯拜尔,那只墨西哥的无毛狗,和图茨,那只日本哈巴狗。可是更经常地,它还是想起那个穿红毛线衣的人;想起柯利的死;想起和斯佩茨的大战;想起那些它吃过的和想吃的好东西。它是不想家的。它对那种神圣的出生地——阳光之地的感觉是非常朦胧,非常遥远的。对家的记忆没有权利越过这样一种东西,这就是它的遗传。这种遗传给了它从没有见过的相同的东西。这种本能(这只是它祖先传下来的)一直流传到最近的日子。对它来说,这种遗传、这种本能已经加速地变成它现在的活生生的东西了。
     有时,巴克蹲在那里,双眼梦幻般地闪着光,那光看上去像是另一堆火。蹲在火边的时候,它能看到另一个不同的半血统的人在它面前烧烤着什么。这个人短腿长臂,浑圆浑圆的肌肉包在多节的骨头上,头发很长、很乱,头顶在眼睛上面稍稍一点就向后倾斜过去。这人的声音很怪,看上去很怕黑夜。黑暗中他一直都朦朦胧胧地显现着。他抓牢自己的手,那手在膝盖和脚之间的部位悬着。他能把一根装有重石的棍子快速地扔到尽头。他全身赤裸,一块破烂不堪、烧焦了的皮悬在后背的下半部。他身体上毛很多,布满了胸脯和双肩,延伸到胳膊和大腿的外侧,看上去就像是铺上了一张厚厚的皮毛。他站不起来,躯干从臀部起向前倾斜,双腿从膝盖起向前弯曲。他的身体有着特殊的弹力。他特别能跳,几乎像猫似的机敏。他仿佛生活在一个永久不断的、看得见和看不见的令人害怕的环境中似的。
     曾有好多次,这个多毛的男人头放在双腿之间蹲在火边睡觉。每当这种时候,他的肘子就支在膝盖上,双手抱着头,仿佛是用那多毛的胳膊挡雨似的。而在火的那一边,在圆圆的黑暗中,巴克能看到很多闪光的碳火,三三两两地。总是三三两两地,它知道,这都是那些牺牲了的野兽们的眼睛。它能听到它们的尸体在地下丛林中的碰撞声,和它们在黑夜里发出的吵闹声。在于肯河边的这些梦想和那些懒懒的眼睛里闪射出来的光,以及那些声音和另一个世界的景象会使巴克的毛发沿着它自己的背长起来,竖立在它的肩膀和脖子上。直到它低声压制地打几个响鼻,或者软软地咆哮几声。那个半血统的厨师就会看着它:“嗨,巴克,醒来!”随之那另一个世界就消失了。它就会打着哈欠,伸展前肢后腿,仿佛刚才是睡着了似的。
     这是艰苦的旅程。邮件车挂在后面,沉重得很,狗们累极了。它们的体重在下降,身体状况极差。当它们返回到道森时,至少应该需要休息十天或两周。可是两天后,它们又从巴拉克斯下到了于肯河谷,拉着外地送过来的邮件。狗们都累坏了,赶狗人也发着牢骚。这次每天都在下雪,这使得情况更糟,这意味着这是一次阻力重重的旅行。狗们拉起来更吃力了,而赶狗人也对狗们更公平了,更关怀了。每天晚上,狗们总是先被照顾,它们吃在赶狗人的前面。没有人再穿睡袍了,睡袍都被盖在了他所驱赶的狗们的腿上了。可是狗们的力气正在用尽,体重还在下降。
     由于入冬以来,它们已经旅行了一千八白英里,挂着雪橇跨过了这整个倦倦的路程。一千八百英里将对生活发生最凶险、最难过的影响。但巴克还是挺了下来,它使它的伙伴们一直都胜任它们的工作,遵守着纪律,虽然它也是非常地累。
     比利每天晚上都在睡梦中定时叫着、呜咽着、打着响鼻。乔比以前更加愁眉不展。索迩莱克斯比以前更加不易接近,不是胡走到这里就是胡走到那里。
     但戴夫受罪最多,它肯定什么地方有毛病了。它变得更加发愁,更加容易暴躁。一到营地,它马上就倒在窝里,赶狗人就到它的窝里去喂它。一次,没有等到解开绳套它就倒了下来,一直到第二天上绳套时不帮它它都站不起来。有时侯,在路途中,当雪橇突然被什么东西拌住停了下来,或者又要使劲拉动才能启动,戴夫都会痛苦地叫出声来。赶狗人给它做了检查,但什么也没有发现。所有的赶狗人都对它关心了起来,他们在吃饭的时候谈论着它,叼着长长的烟斗,一直谈到上床睡觉。一天晚上,他们开了个会,它被从窝里带了出来,来到了火边。它被多次挤抱,弄的它大喊大叫。它的身体里面肯定出毛病了,它的骨头没有断。但到底是什么,赶狗人也说不出所以然来。
     在去卡斯尔?巴的时候,戴夫虚弱得一路上到下了好几次。半苏格兰血统的赶狗人停下雪橇,把它从队伍中拉了出来,使挨着它的索迩莱克斯能快速走过来。赶狗人的想法是想让戴夫休息休息,让它跟在雪橇后面闲跑。由于生病,戴夫一直怨恨被带了出来,在没完没了的征途中它一直都在哼哼着,嚎叫着。它看到索迩莱克斯在应该是它呆的位置上拉着跑了那么长的时间,它就从它那破碎的内心深处往外呜咽着打着不满的响鼻子。在这种苦役般的旅途中,骄傲本是应该属于它的。因此,尽管它病得都快要死了,它还是不能忍受别的狗来做它的工作。
     雪橇就要启动了。戴夫在被踏平了的道路边松软的雪中挣扎着,用牙咬向索迩莱克斯,向它冲过去试图把它逼到一边的软雪中。戴夫拼命地反抗着跳在了自己的位置上,站在了索迩莱克斯和雪撬之间。于是引来了一阵悲伤而痛苦的抱怨、嚎叫和怒吼。半血统的赶狗人试图用鞭子把戴夫赶开,但它不顾鞭打的疼痛,而赶狗人也不忍心使劲去抽。戴夫拒绝跟在雪橇后面平静地奔跑,那样跑起来太过容易了。它挣扎地跑到路边的软雪中,但在软雪中奔跑起来更加困难,这样它就一直跑得精疲力尽。
     终于,它累得躺了下来,可怜地悲叫着。雪橇磕磕绊绊地、长长地把它拖着向前走。
用尽最后一点残余的力气,戴夫挣扎着半躺半睡地跟在雪橇后面跑着,好不容易来到了下一站。它摇摇晃晃地走到雪橇中它的位置跟前,站在了索迩莱克斯旁边。赶狗人稍稍停了一下,从后面的人那里点着了烟管,走了回来又启动了他的狗队。狗队明显是非常费力地摇摇摆摆地要上路了,可好不容易地打了调头,它们却惊讶地停在了那里。赶狗人也很吃惊,雪橇竟没有动,于是他就和他的同志过去看看究竟是怎么回事。原来是戴夫正死命地冲向索迩莱克斯,稳稳地站在了雪橇前它原来的位置上。
     戴夫的目光中充满了抗辩和恳求,使赶狗人很是为难。他的同志们谈起了怎么才是一只好狗。一只好狗,宁可你把它杀死、把它的心掏了出来都不愿不工作的。他们回忆了很多狗们的例子:那些狗,老的不能再拉雪撬了,或者受伤了,就因为是被从旅途上裁减了下来才死去的。赶狗人对这样的例子是多么的难过。今天,戴夫就要死了,它也应该死在路上。只有这样,戴夫的心里才能满足。于是它又被套上了绳套,它为自己这么一只老狗还在绳套上很是自豪。它不止一次无意识地从它受伤的身体里痛苦地喊出声音来,好几次它倒了下来被别的狗拖着走。
     终于有一次,它摔倒了,再也没有起来,雪橇从它身上越了过去。其后,它的一条腿就断了。
     可戴夫还是终于坚持到了营地。它的主人给它在火边找了个地方。早晨发现它太虚弱了,再也不能往前走了。到了上绳套的时候,它费劲地爬到主人跟前。经过一阵痉挛地努力,它站了起来,摇摇晃晃地站了一会,又倒下了。然后它又像蛇一样地慢慢蠕动着,向前爬到了正在上绳套的同伴们跟前。它冒险地伸出前腿,支撑起身体来,做着套绳套的动作。它努力地套上了绳套,吃力地迈开了前腿,颤颤巍巍地向前走了几步。它用尽了力气支撑着。同伴们看着它倒在雪中喘着气,而它也满怀热望地看着它们。
     可是,当它们走过一条皮带似的大河拐弯的地方时,就再也听不到它悲伤的呜咽声了。雪橇队迟迟疑疑地向前走着,半血统的苏格兰人慢慢地返回到他们刚刚离开的营地。人们停止了谈话,一声左轮手熗的熗声响彻云空,半苏格兰血统的人急匆匆地走了回来。
鞭子使劲地向着,铃铛清脆地叫着,雪橇磕磕绊绊地上了路。可是巴克知道,每一条狗也都知道,在河边树林带的后面发生了什么。


执素衣

ZxID:13389413


等级: 内阁元老
举报 只看该作者 板凳   发表于: 2013-10-08 0


CHAPTER 3

THE DOMINANT PRIMORDIAL BEAST


The dominant primordial beast was strong in Buck, and under the fierce conditions of trail life it grew and grew. Yet it was a secret growth. His newborn cunning gave him poise and control. He was too busy adjusting himself to the new life to feel at ease, and not only did he not pick fights, but he avoided them whenever possible. A certain deliberateness characterized his attitude. He was not prone to rashness and precipitate action; and in the bitter hatred between him and Spitz he betrayed no impatience, shunned all offensive acts.
On the other hand, possibly because he divined in Buck a dangerous rival, Spitz never lost an opportunity of showing his teeth. He even went out of his way to bully Buck, striving constantly to start the fight which could end only in the death of one or the other.
Early in the trip this might have taken place had it not been for an unwonted accident. At the end of this day they made a bleak and miserable camp on the shore of Lake Le Barge. Driving snow, a wind that cut like a white-hot knife, and darkness, had forced them to grope for a camping place. They could hardly have fared worse. At their backs rose a perpendicular wall of rock, and Perrault and Francois were compelled to make their fire and spread their sleeping robes on the ice of the lake itself. The tent they had discarded at Yea in order to travel light. A few sticks of driftwood furnished them with a fire that thawed down through the ice and left them to eat supper in the dark.
Close in under the sheltering rock Buck made his nest. So snug and warm was it, that he was loath to leave it when Francois distributed the fish which he had first thawed over the fire. But when Buck finished his ration and returned, he found his nest occupied. A warning snarl told him that the trespasser was Spitz. Till now Buck had avoided trouble with his enemy, but this was too much. The beast in him roared. He sprang upon Spitz with a fury which surprised them both, and Spitz particularly, for his whole experience with Buck had gone to teach him that his rival was an unusually timid dog, who managed to hold his own only because of his great weight and size.
Francois was surprised, too, when they shot out in a tangle from the disrupted nest and he divined the cause of the trouble. "A-a-ah!" he cried to Buck. "Give it to him by Gar! Give it to him, the dirty thief!"
Spitz was equally willing. He was crying with sheer rage and eagerness as he circled back and forth for a chance to spring in. Buck was no less eager, and no less cautious, as he likewise circled back and forth for the advantage. But it was then that the unexpected happened, the thing which projected their struggle for supremacy far into the future, past many a weary mile of trail and toil.
An oath from Perrault, the resounding impact of a club upon a bony frame, and a shrill yelp of pain, heralded the breaking forth of pandemonium. the camp was suddenly discovered to be alive with skulking furry forms--starving huskies, four or five score of them, who had scented the camp from some Indian village. They had crept in while Buck and Spitz were fighting, and when the two men sprang among them with stout clubs they showed their teeth and fought back. They were crazed by the smell of the food. Perrault found one with head buried in the grub-box. His club landed heavily on the gaunt ribs, and the grub-box was capsized on the ground. On the instant a score of the famished brutes were scrambling for the bread and bacon. The clubs fell upon them unheeded. They yelped and howled under the rain of blows, but struggled none the less madly till the last crumb had been devoured.
In the meantime the astonished team-dogs had burst out of their nests only to be set upon by the fierce invaders. Never had Buck seen such dogs. It seemed as though their bones would burst through their skins. They were mere skeletons, draped loosely in draggled hides, with blazing eyes and slavered fangs. But the hunger-madness made them terrifying, irresistible. There was no opposing them. The team-dogs were swept back against the cliff at the first onset. Buck was beset by three huskies, and in a trice his head and shoulders were ripped and slashed. The din was frightful. Billee was crying as usual. Dave and Sol-leks, dripping blood from a score of wounds, were fighting bravely side by side. Joe was snapping like a demon. Once his teeth closed on the fore leg of a husky, and he crunched down through the bone. Pike, the malingerer, leaped upon the crippled animal, breaking its neck with a quick flash of teeth and a jerk. Buck got a frothing adversary by the throat, and was sprayed with blood when his teeth sank through the jugular. The warm taste of it in his mouth goaded him to greater fierceness. He flung himself upon another, and at the same time felt teeth sink into his own throat. It was Spitz, treacherously attacking from the side.
Perrault and Francois, having cleaned out their part of the camp, hurried to save their sled-dogs. The wild wave of famished beasts rolled back before them, and Buck shook himself free. But is was only for a moment. The two men were compelled to run back to save the grub; upon which the huskies returned to the attack on the team. Billee, terrified into bravery, sprang through the savage circle and fled away over the ice. Pike and Dub followed on his heels, with the rest of the team behind. As Buck drew himself together to spring after them, out of the tail of his eye he saw Spitz rush upon him with the evident intention of overthrowing him. Once off his feet and under that mass of huskies, there was no hope for him. But he braced himself to the shock of Spitz's charge, then joined the flight out on the lake.
Later, the nine team-dogs gathered together and sought shelter in the forest. Though unpursued, they were in a sorry plight. There was not one who was not wounded in four or five places, while some were wounded grievously. Dub was badly injured in a hind leg; Dolly, the last husky added to the team at Yea, had a badly torn throat; Joe had lost an eye; while Billee, the good-natured, with an ear chewed and rent to ribbons, cried and whimpered throughout the night. At daybreak they limped warily back to camp, to find the marauders gone and the two men in bad tempers. Fully half their grub supply was gone. The huskies had chewed through the sled lashings and canvas coverings. In fact, nothing, no matter how remotely eatable, had escaped them. They had eaten a pair of Perrault's moose-hide moccasins, chunks out of the leather traces, and even two feet of lash from the end of Francois's whip. He broke from a mournful contemplation of it to look over his wounded dogs.
"Ah, my friends," he said softly, "mebbe it make you mad dog, those many bites. Mebbe all mad dog, sacredam! What you think, eh, Perrault?"
The courier shook his head dubiously. With four hundred miles of trail still between him and Dawson, he could ill afford to have madness break out among his dogs. Two hours of cursing and exertion got the harnesses into shape, and the wound-stiffened team was under way, struggling painfully over the hardest part of the trail they had yet encountered, and for that matter, the hardest between them and Dawson.
The Thirty Mile River was wide open. Its wild water defied the frost, and it was in the eddies only and in the quiet places that the ice held at all. Six days of exhausting toil were required to cover those thirty terrible miles. And terrible they were, for every foot of them was accomplished at the risk of life to dog and man. A dozen times, Perrault, nosing the way, broke through the ice bridges, being saved by the long pole he carried, which he so held that it fell each time across the hole made by his body. But a cold snap was on, the thermometer registering fifty below zero, and each time he broke through he was compelled for very life to build a fire and dry his garments.
Nothing daunted him. It was because nothing daunted him that he had been chosen for government courier. He took all manner of risks, resolutely thrusting his little weazened face into the frost and struggling on from dim dawn to dark. He skirted the frowning shores on rim ice that bent and crackled under foot and upon which they dared not halt. Once, the sled broke through, with Dave and Buck, and they were half-frozen and all but drowned by the time they were dragged out. The usual fire was necessary to save them. They were coated solidly with ice, and the two men kept them on the run around the fire, sweating and thawing, so close that they were singed by the flames.
At another time Spitz went through, dragging the whole team after him up to Buck, who strained backward with all his strength, his fore paws on the slippery edge and the ice quivering and snapping all around. But behind him was Dave, likewise straining backward, and behind the sled was Francois, pulling till his tendons cracked.
Again, the rim ice broke away before and behind, and there was no escape except up the cliff. Perrault scaled it by a miracle, while Francois prayed for just that miracle; and with every thong and sled lashing and the last bit of harness rove into a long rope, the dogs were hoisted, one by one, to the cliff crest. Francois came up last, after the sled and load. Then came the search for a place to descend, which descent was ultimately made by the aid of the rope, and night found them back on the river with a quarter of a mile to the day's credit.
By the time they made the Hootalinqua and good ice, Buck was played out. The rest of the dogs were in like condition; but Perrault, to make up lost time, pushed them late and early. The first day they covered thirty-five miles to the Big Salmon; the next day thirty-five more to the Little Salmon; the third day forty miles, which brought them well up toward the Five Fingers.
Buck's feet were not so compact and hard as the feet of the huskies. His had softened during the many generations since the day his last wild ancestor was tamed by a cave dweller or river man. All day long he limped in agony, and camp once made, lay down like a dead dog. Hungry as he was, he would not move to receive his ration of fish, which Francois had to bring to him. Also, the dog-driver rubbed Buck's feet for half an hour each night after supper, and sacrificed the tops of his own moccasins to make four moccasins for Buck. This was a great relief, and Buck caused even the weazened face of Perrault to twist itself into a grin one morning, when Francois forgot the moccasins and Buck lay on his back, his four feet waving appealingly in the air, and refused to budge without them. later his feet grew hard to the trail, and the worn-out footgear was thrown away.
At the Pelly one morning, as they were harnessing up, dolly, who had never been conspicuous for anything, went suddenly mad. She announced her condition by a long, heart-breaking wolf howl that sent every dog bristling with fear, then sprang straight for Buck. He had never seen a dog go mad, nor did he have any reason to fear madness; yet he knew that here was horror, and fled away from it in a panic. Straight away he raced, with Dolly, panting and frothing, one leap behind; nor could she gain on him, so great was his terror, nor could he leave her, so great was her madness. He plunged through the wooded breast of the island, flew down to the lower end, crossed a back channel filled with rough ice to another island, gained a third island, curved back to the main river, and in desperation started to cross it. And all the time, though he did not look, he could hear her snarling just one leap behind. Francois called to him a quarter of a mile away and he doubled back, still one leap ahead, gasping painfully for air and putting all his faith in that Francois would save him. the dog-driver held the axe poised in his hand, and as Buck shot past him the axe crashed down upon mad Dolly's head.
Buck staggered over against the sled, exhausted, sobbing for breath, helpless. This was Spitz's opportunity. He sprang upon Buck, and twice his teeth sank into his unresisting foe and ripped and tore the flesh to the bone. Then Francois' lash descended, and Buck had the satisfaction of watching Spitz receive the worst whipping as yet administered to any of the team.
"One devil, dat Spitz," remarked Perrault. "Some dam day him kill dat Buck."
"Dat Buck two devils," was Francois's rejoinder. "All de time I watch dat Buck I know for sure. Lissen: some dam fine day him get mad like hell and den him chew dat Spitz all up and spit him out on de snow. Sure, I know."
From then on it was war between them. Spitz, as lead-dog and acknowledged master of the team, felt his supremacy threatened by this strange Southland dog.F And strange Buck was to him, for of the many Southland dogs he had known, not one had shown up worthily in camp and on trail. They were all too soft, dying under the toil, the frost, and starvation. Buck was the exception. He alone endured and prospered, matching the husky in strength, savagery, and cunning.E Then he was a masterful dog, and what made him dangerous was the fact that the club of the man in the red sweater had knocked all blind pluck and rashness out of his desire for mastery. He was preeminently cunning, and could bide his time with a patience that was nothing less than primitive.
It was inevitable that the clash for leadership should come. Buck wanted it. He wanted it because it was his nature, because he had been gripped tight by that nameless, incomprehensible pride of the trail and trace--that pride which holds dogs in the toil to the last gasp, which lures them to die joyfully in the harness, and breaks their hearts if they are cut out of the harness. This was the pride of Dave as wheel-dog, of Sol-leks as he pulled with all his strength; the pride that laid hold of them at break of camp, transforming them from sour and sullen brutes into straining, eager, ambitious creatures; the pride that spurred them on all day and dropped them at pitch of camp at night, letting them fall back into gloomy unrest and discontent. This was the pride that bore up Spitz and made him thrash the sled-dogs who blundered and shirked in the traces or hid away at harness-up time in the morning. Likewise it was this pride that made him fear Buck as a possible lead-dog. And this was Buck's pride, too.
He openly threatened the other's leadership. He came between him and the shirks he should have punished. And he did it deliberately. One night there was a heavy snowfall, and in the morning Pike, the malingerer, did not appear. He was securely hidden in his nest under a foot of snow. Francois called him and sought him in vain. Spitz was wild with wrath. He raged through the camp, smelling and digging in every likely place, snarling so frightfully that Pike heard and shivered in his hiding-place.
But when he was at last unearthed, and Spitz flew at him to punish him, Buck flew with equal rage, in between. So unexpected was it, and so shrewdly managed, that Spitz was hurled backward and off his feet. Pike, who had been trembling abjectly, took heart at this open mutiny, and sprang upon his overthrown leader. Buck, to whom fair play was a forgotten code, likewise sprang upon Spitz. But Francois, chuckling at the incident while unswerving in the administration of justice, brought his lash down upon Buck with all his might. This failed to drive Buck from his prostrate rival, and the butt of the whip was brought into play. Half-stunned by the blow, Buck was knocked backward and the lash laid upon him again and again, while Spitz soundly punished the many times offending Pike.
In the days that followed, as Dawson grew closer and closer, Buck still continued to interfere between Spitz and the culprits; but he did it craftily, when Francois was not around. With the covert mutiny of Buck, a general insubordination sprang up and increased. Dave and Sol-leks were unaffected, but the rest of the team went from bad to worse. Things no longer went right. There was continual bickering and jangling. Trouble was always afoot, and at the bottom of it was Buck. He kept Francois busy, for the dog-driver was in constant apprehension of the life-and-death struggle between the two which he knew must take place sooner or later; and on more than one night the sounds of quarreling and strife among the other dogs turned him out of his sleeping robe, fearful that Buck and Spitz were at it.
But the opportunity did not present itself, and they pulled into Dawson one dreary afternoon with the great fight still to come. Here were many men, and countless dogs, and Buck found them all at work. It seemed the ordained order of things that dogs should work. All day they swung up and down the main street in long teams, and in the night their jingling bells still went by. They hauled cabin logs and firewood, freighted up to the mines, and did all manner of work that horses did in the Santa Clara Valley. Here and there Buck met Southland dogs, but in the main they were the wild wolf husky breed. Every night, regularly, at nine, at twelve, and three, they lifted a nocturnal song, a weird and eerie chant, in which it was Buck's delight to join.
With the aurora borealis flaming coldly overhead, or the stars leaping in the frost dance, and the land numb and frozen under its pall of snow, this song of the huskies might have been the defiance of life, only it was pitched in minor key, with long-drawn wailings and half-sobs, and was more the pleading of life, the articulate travail of existence. It was an old song, old as the breed itself--one of the first songs of the younger world in a day when songs were sad. It was invested with the woe of unnumbered generations, this plaint by which Buck was so strangely stirred. When he moaned and sobbed, it was with the pain of living that was of old the pain of his wild fathers, and the fear and mystery of the cold and dark that was to them fear and mystery. And that he should be stirred by it marked the completeness with which he harked back through the ages of fire and roof to the raw beginnings of life in the howling ages.
Seven days from the time they pulled into Dawson, they dropped down the steep bank by the Barracks to the Yukon Trail, and pulled for Yea and Salt Water. Perrault was carrying dispatches if anything more urgent than those he had brought in; also, the travel pride had gripped him, and he purposed to make the record trip of the year. Several things favored him in this. The week's rest had recuperated the dogs and put them in thorough trim. The trail they had broken into the country was packed hard by later journeyers. And further, the police had arranged in two or three places deposits of grub for dog and man, and he was traveling light.
They made Sixty Mile, which is a fifty-mile run, on the first day; and the second day saw them booming up the Yukon well on their way to Pelly. But such splendid running was achieved not without great trouble and vexation on the part of Francois. The insidious revolt led by Buck had destroyed the solidarity of the team. It no longer was as one dog leaping in the traces. The encouragement Buck gave the rebels led them into all kinds of petty misdemeanors. No more was Spitz a leader greatly to be feared. The old awe departed, and they grew equal to challenging his authority. Pike robbed him of half a fish one night, and gulped it down under the protection of Buck. Another night Dub and Joe fought Spitz and made him forego the punishment they deserved. And even Billee, the good-natured, was less good-natured, and whined not half so placatingly as in former days. Buck never came near Spitz without snarling and bristling menacingly. In fact, his conduct approached that of a bully, and he was given to swaggering up and down before Spitz's very nose.
The breaking down of discipline likewise affected the dogs in their relations with one another. They quarreled and bickered more than ever among themselves, till at times the camp was a howling bedlam. Dave and Sol-leks alone were unaltered, though they were made irritable by the unending squabbling. Francois swore strange barbarous oaths, and stamped the snow in futile rage, and tore his hair. His lash was always singing among the dogs, but it was of small avail. Directly his back was turned they were at it again. He backed up Spitz with his whip, while Buck backed up the remainder of the team. Francois knew he was behind all the trouble, and Buck knew he knew; but Buck was too clever ever again to be caught red-handed. He worked faithfully in the harness, for the toil had become a delight to him; yet it was a greater delight slyly to precipitate a fight amongst his mates and tangle the traces.
At the mouth of the Tahkeena, one night after supper, Dub turned up a snowshoe rabbit, blundered it, and missed. In a second the whole team was in full cry. A hundred yards away was a camp of the Northwest Police, with fifty dogs, huskies all, who joined the chase. The rabbit sped down the river, turned off into a small creek, up the frozen bed of which it held steadily. It ran lightly on the surface of the snow, while the dogs plowed through by main strength. Buck led the pack, sixty strong, around bend after bend, but he could not gain. He lay down low to the race, whining eagerly, his splendid body flashing forward, leap by leap, in the wan white moonlight. And leap by leap, like some pale frost wraith, the snowshoe rabbit flashed on ahead.
All that stirring of old instincts which at stated periods drives men out from the sounding cities to forest and plain to kill things by chemically propelled leaden pellets, the bloodlust, the joy to kill--all this was Buck's, only it was infinitely more intimate. He was ranging at the head of the pack, running the wild thing down, the living meat, to kill with his own teeth and wash his muzzle to the eyes in warm blood.
There is an ecstasy that marks the summit of life, and beyond which life cannot rise. And such is the paradox of living, this ecstasy comes when one is most alive, and it comes as a complete forgetfulness that one is alive. This ecstasy, this forgetfulness of living, comes to the artist, caught up and out of himself in a sheet of flame; it comes to the soldier, war-mad on a stricken field and refusing quarter; and it came to Buck, leading the pack, sounding the old wolf-cry, straining after the food that was alive and that fled swiftly before him through the moonlight. He was sounding the deeps of his nature, and of the parts of his nature that were deeper than he, going back into the womb of Time. He was mastered by the sheer surging of life, the tidal wave of being, the perfect joy of each separate muscle, joint, and sinew in that it was everything that was not death, that it was aglow and rampant, expressing itself in movement, flying exultantly under the stars and over the face of dead matter that did not move.
But Spitz, cold and calculating even in his supreme moods, left the pack and cut across a narrow neck of land where the creek made a long bend around. Buck did not know of this, and as he rounded the bend, the frost wraith of a rabbit still flitting before him, he saw another and larger frost wraith leap from the overhanging bank into the immediate path of the rabbit. It was Spitz. The rabbit could not turn, and as the white teeth broke its back in mid air it shrieked as loudly as a stricken man may shriek. At sound of this, the cry of Life plunging down from Life's apex in the grip of Death, the full pack at Buck's heels raised a hell's chorus of delight.
Buck did not cry out. He did not check himself, but drove in upon Spitz, shoulder to shoulder, so hard that he missed the throat. They rolled over and over in the powdery snow. Spitz gained his feet almost as though he had not been overthrown, slashing Buck down the shoulder and leaping clear. Twice his teeth clipped together, like the steel jaws of a trap, as he backed away for better footing, with lean and lifting lips that writhed and snarled.
In a flash Buck knew it. The time had come. It was to the death. As they circled about, snarling, ears laid back, keenly watchful for the advantage, the scene came to Buck with a sense of familiarity. He seemed to remember it all--the white woods, and earth, and moonlight, and the thrill of battle. Over the whiteness and silence brooded a ghostly calm. There was not the faintest whisper of air--nothing moved, not a leaf quivered, the visible breaths of the dogs rising slowly and lingering in the frosty air. They had made short work of the snowshoe rabbit, these dogs that were ill-tamed wolves; and they were now drawn up in an expectant circle. They, too, were silent, their eyes only gleaming and their breaths drifting slowly upward. To Buck it was nothing new or strange, this scene of old time. It was as though it had always been, the wonted way of things.
Spitz was a practiced fighter. From Spitzbergen through the Arctic, and across Canada and the Barrens, he had held his own with all manner of dogs and achieved to mastery over them. Bitter rage was his, but never blind rage. In passion to rend and destroy, he never forgot that his enemy was in like passion to rend and destroy. He never rushed till he was prepared to receive a rush; never attacked till he had first defended that attack.
In vain Buck strove to sink his teeth in the neck of the big white dog. Wherever his fangs struck for the softer flesh, they were countered by the fangs of Spitz. Fang clashed fang, and lips were cut and bleeding, but Buck could not penetrate his enemy's guard. Then he warmed up and enveloped Spitz in a whirlwind of rushes. Time and time again he tried for the snow-white throat, where life bubbled near to the surface, and each time and every time Spitz slashed him and got away. Then Buck took to rushing, as though for the throat, when, suddenly drawing back his head and curving in from the side, he would drive his shoulder at the shoulder of Spitz, as a ram by which to overthrow him. But instead, Buck's shoulder was slashed down each time as Spitz leaped lightly away.
Spitz was untouched, while Buck was streaming with blood and panting hard. The fight was growing desperate. And all the while the silent and wolfish circle waited to finish off whichever dog went down. As Buck grew winded, Spitz took to rushing, and he kept him staggering for footing. Once Buck went over, and the whole circle of sixty dogs started up; but he recovered himself, almost in mid air, and the circle sank down again and waited.
But Buck possessed a quality that made for greatness--imagination. He fought by instinct, but he could fight by head as well he rushed, as though attempting the old shoulder trick, but at the last instant swept low to the snow and in. His teeth closed on Spitz's left fore leg. There was a crunch of breaking bone, and the white dog faced him on three legs. Thrice he tried to knock him over, then repeated the trick and broke the right fore leg. Despite the pain and helplessness, Spitz struggled madly to keep up. He saw the silent circle, with gleaming eyes, lolling tongues, and silvery breaths drifting upward, closing in upon him as he had seen similar circles close in upon beaten antagonists in the past. Only this time he was the one who was beaten.
There was no hope for him. Buck was inexorable. Mercy was a thing reserved for gentler climes. He maneuvered for the final rush. The circle had tightened till he could feel the breaths of the huskies on his flanks. He could see them, beyond Spitz and to either side, half-crouching for the spring, their eyes fixed upon him. A pause seemed to fall. Every animal was motionless as though turned to stone. Only Spitz quivered and bristled as he staggered back and forth, snarling with horrible menace, as though to frighten off impending death. Then Buck sprang in and out; but while he was in, shoulder had at last squarely met shoulder. The dark circle became a dot on the moon flooded snow as Spitz disappeared from view. Buck stood and looked on, the successful champion, the dominant primordial beast who had made his kill and found it good.



第三章 超群的原始兽

  
     巴克身上显现出了一种超群的原始兽的本色。在这凶险的生存条件中,这种本色越来越成熟。但这是一种秘密的成熟。它新生的狡猾使它泰然自若,很有自制力。它忙于调节着自己,安心地面对着新的生活。它不仅不选择战斗,而是还尽量可能地去避免这些争斗,这种明确地考虑形成了它的生活姿态。它不偏好于性急,不过早地陷进麻烦之中去。在它和斯佩茨之间令人急迫的仇恨中,它耐着性子,回避着烦人的进攻欲望。
     另一方面,也许是斯佩茨猜测出了巴克是一个危险的敌手,因此斯佩茨从不放弃任何一个显示它牙齿的机会。它甚至于经常明显地威吓巴克,一直都在拼死争取着一种一但开始其结果就是你死我活的争斗。在旅途的早期,这种预料中可能会发生的突发事件还没有发生。这天结束时,它们到了勒 ? 巴支湖边,在这里他们建起了一个悲切凄凉的营地。风像一把自然界的刀子刺骨地吹着雪,黑暗使它们摸索着寻找能睡觉的地方,它们几乎是不能把事情弄得更糟了。它们的身后是一道垂死的悬崖,波罗特和费兰柯斯被迫在这里升起了火,在湖的冰面上铺开了睡袍,帐蓬已在来戴伊卡农的路上为了减轻重量扔掉了。好不容易用几根漂浮的木头点着了火,用冰化开了水,在黑暗中吃了晚饭。
     紧挨着岩石的隐蔽处巴克给自己弄了一个窝,窝里又暖和又舒服,它再也不愿离开了。这时费兰柯斯分配了他在火中第一批融化开了的鱼,可是当巴克在吃完了自己的那份返回时,它发现它的窝被占了,一声警觉的叫声告诉它侵入者是斯佩茨。一直到现在巴克始终避免着和它的敌人有什么麻烦,可是这次太过份了。它怒吼一声,凶狠地扑向斯佩茨,这使它们俩都大吃一惊。
     斯佩茨尤其惊得厉害,它和巴克所有的经历都在告诉它,它的敌手巴克是一个非常胆小的狗,它只经营它自己的事,因为它的身体太笨重了、太庞大了,它能自己走动起来就已经不错了。
     费兰柯斯也吃了一惊,当它们咆哮着纠缠在一起、从裂开了的窝里滚了出来的时候,他一下子预感到出事了。:“啊… 哈… ”他对巴克喊到:“把东西给它!把东西给它!上帝呀,把东西给它!你这个肮脏的贼!”
     斯佩茨意志坚决,它绝对地发狂了,热切地转着圈子,瞅准机会向前猛冲。巴克一点也不缺意志,一丝一毫都不敢懈怠,极其小心谨慎。它同样地转着圈子,瞅准机会向前冲出。它们投入的战斗达到了登峰造极的地步,你撕我扯地在它们来过的路上拉出了好几英里。就在这时,意想不到的事情发生了。
     波罗特骂着脏话,传来了大棒落在骨架上的响声。
     怒凶凶痛苦的尖叫声预报着就要发生大混乱,营地一下子被活生生躲闪着的皮毛复盖了-------约有七、八十只饿极了的烈狗从附近印地安村庄嗅到这边的气息,就向这边扑来。当巴克和斯佩茨正撕咬得起劲的时候,它们像潮水般地漫过来了。那俩个人,波罗特和费兰柯斯在狗群中用力地挥舞着大棒。野狗们张开了大口,张开了獠牙反扑着,它们闻到了食物的气味变得疯狂了。
     波罗特发现一只狗正埋头在食物盒里,他的大棒狠狠地落在那狗瘦削的肋骨上,连食物盒都被打翻在地。说时迟那时快,分明饿极了的野狗们奔涌而上,争夺着面包和大熏肉,任凭大棒落在它们的身上。野饿狗们在雨点般的大棒下吼着、叫着,直到最后的面包屑都被狼吞虎咽完了,疯狂的争斗才稍稍有所收敛。
     这时,吃惊了的家狗们也从窝里冲了出来,但它们只能忍受凶恶入侵者的进攻。巴克从没有见过这些狗。这些狗看起来瘦削的骨头要把包着躯体的皮刺破,浑身上下只有骨架。那张狗皮松松垮垮地像湿拖布似的搭在身上,一双发怒的眼睛,一口淌着口水的白色獠牙。那副饥饿疯狂的样子看上去很是恐怖,觉得不可抵抗,也没有什么东西敢反抗它们。
这些家狗们第一次攻击时就退回到了悬崖峭壁前。巴克被三条野狗包围着,它的头和肩膀被撕扯着,撕咬声是令人惊骇的。比利像平常一样地叫着;戴夫和索尔莱克斯好几处伤口在流血,勇敢地、肩并肩地战斗着;乔恶魔似地猛咬着,它的牙齿死死地咬住了一只烈狗的前腿,咯吱咯吱地嚼着骨头。而派克,那只装病的狗,跳到了一只断了前腿的烈狗身上,白牙一闪,急急地咬住了它的脖子。巴克嘴里起着白沫咬住了一只野狗的喉咙,牙齿深深地咬进那狗的颈部,一股血喷了出来,舌头上温暖血液的味道驱使它更加凶狠起来,它猛地又冲向另一只野狗。
     与此同时,它觉得有牙齿咬进了它自己的喉咙,咬的很深,原来是斯佩茨从旁边背叛地向它进攻了。
     波罗特和费兰柯斯在弄干净营地后,急忙来救他们拉雪橇的狗。那些饿昏了头的野兽们组成的流动的大浪稍稍有所后退,巴克就使自己获得了自由,可是也只是仅有那么一小会儿。这两个人又被迫回身去救他们的食物,那些饿狗们又跑向他们的食物了。比利在恐怖中变的勇敢了,戴夫和塔布紧跟在它的后面,其余的狗们也紧随其后。巴克也抽身跟在它们的后面。从眼睛的斜光中,它看见斯佩茨正带着明显的力度向它冲来,要撞倒它。一旦它的双脚离地,倒在那些狗的下面,那它就没有什么指望了。但它撑住了斯佩茨的冲击力,加入到家狗们在湖面上的逃跑队伍中去了。
     后来这九条狗的队伍又聚集在一起,在森林中寻找着藏身处。虽然不被追赶了,但还处在困境中。每只狗身上都有三四处伤口,有些还伤得很厉害。塔布的后腿伤得很惨;都莱,在戴伊卡农时最后一只加入进来的狗,喉咙处有一道深深的口子;乔失去了一只眼睛;而比利,它脾气最好,一只耳朵被咬了下来,成了一根布条子;……它们喊着、吼着、呜咽了整整一夜。
     破晓时分,它们小心翼翼、一瘸一拐地回到了营地,发现掠夺者已经不见了。两个主人大发脾气,早准备好的半咸的食物已不翼而飞。野狗们还吃光了雪撬里的鞭子和盖东西的帆布。事实上再没有什么东西了,不管离吃多么遥远的东西都从他们这里跑光了。它们吃光了波罗特用驼鹿皮做的一双印第安软皮鞋、大团大团的皮挽绳,甚至还吃了从费兰柯斯的鞭子上撕下来的两英尺长的皮条。
     费兰柯斯从悲伤中默默地抬起头来,看着他受伤的狗们。
     “啊,朋友们,”他轻声说:“也许这事儿把你们都弄疯了,瞧瞧,这么多的伤口。也许都疯了,你认为怎么样,呃?波罗特?”
     加拿大政府信使犹豫不决地摇着头,从这里到达道森地区还有400英里的路程,他几乎经不住这种强行从狗堆里逃脱出来的疯狂了。在两个小时的咒骂中费力地做了些挽具、绳套后,伤痕累累的队伍又上路了,疼痛地挣扎在他们从没有走过的坚硬的路上。这种路面的坚硬在从这里到达道森之间尤其如此。
     三十英里河是一条宽阔的河。羁傲不训的河水蔑视着严寒和霜冻,平静的河面上都结了冰,除此以外就是一个个的旋涡。要跨过这段令人毛骨悚然的三十英里需要有六天精疲力尽的拼死奔波。这段恐怖的路程每一步都将是对这些狗和人生命的挑战。波罗特在前面小心地探着路,他几十次地掉进冰洞里,只是靠着他拿着的长竿子担在冰面上才得以使他从冰洞里爬出来。寒冷继续着,温度表记录着零下50度。每次踩破冰,都是他旺盛如火的躯体里那生命力的热量弄干了他的外套。
     没有什么东西能吓住波罗特,因为此,他才能被选做政府的信使。他用所有的方式去冒险,依然坚决地将他那张枯萎皱缩了的脸猛冲在严寒之中,从微弱的黎明到暗淡的黄昏,他沿着曲折的岸边走在冰水里,脚下的冰霹劈啪啪地响着。他们不敢停下来。一次,雪橇连同戴夫和巴克一起掉进冰洞里,等把淹没了头的它们拉上来时,它们几乎都快冻僵了。为了救它们,燃起了一堆火。它们的皮毛上都结了冰,两个主人使它们一直围着火堆跑,才渐渐地把身上的冰融化了。这堆火使它们那么兴奋,使它们彼此那么接近。
     有一次,斯佩茨带着整个狗队划向冰洞,巴克前面的狗都掉了下去。巴克用尽全力向后拉着,它的前爪子踩在滑溜溜的冰的前缘上,狂吼乱叫着。它后面是戴夫,同样也拼命向后拉着。雪橇后面是费兰柯斯,他顽强地拽着,直到双脚的筋都仿佛要断了似的。
     又有一次,冰面的前后都断开了,除了攀到悬崖上去无路可逃。波罗特奇迹般地抓住鱼鳞似的山崖攀了上去,费兰柯斯为他祷告着。每一根皮带,雪橇上、套具上最后的皮条、皮绳都被用上了,系成了一根长长的绳子。狗们被抬了起来,一只又一只地被拉到了顶峰。在把雪橇和货物拉上去后,费兰柯斯最后一个被拉了上去。接下来就是要搜寻到下这悬崖的路,而下悬崖的根本方法还是这根绳子。结果,黑夜里,他们又回到离开白天上的那个悬崖四分之一里的河面上了。
     到这时,他们对冰的认识真是透彻到家了。巴克是绝对地精疲力竭了,其余的狗也都精疲力竭了。可是波罗特为了挽回时间,仍然不时地催它们向前。那一天他们走了三十五英里,到了大萨门。第二天又走了三十五六英里,到了小萨门。第三天,四十英里,这就使他们很圆满地到了五指峰。
     巴克的四脚没有那些强悍狗们的脚那么遵守合同了。它的四脚、四肢因为它的祖先们被那些山洞里的人和打鱼人的祖先们祖祖辈辈的训养而变得太柔软。整个一路上它都是很苦闹地一瘸一拐地跑着,而一到宿营地,它就像一只死狗一样地躺了下来。尽管它很饿,但它都不想动一动去吃它的那份鱼,而这份鱼却又是费兰柯斯非要让它去吃不可的。
     每天晚饭后的晚上,赶狗人都要给巴克的四脚按摩上半个小时,并用自己的印第安软皮鞋的尖端给巴克做了四只印第安软皮鞋。这对巴克是一个极大的帮助,极大的救济。
     一天早上,巴克甚至使波罗特皱巴巴的脸上扭动了几下,露齿笑了。当时,费兰柯斯忘掉了给巴克穿软皮鞋,而巴克却在那里躺着,四肢动情地在空中挥动着,等待着,没有软皮鞋就拒绝动一动。后来,它的四脚长结实了,能踩在地上了,那些磨坏了的护脚的装置才被扔掉了。
     一天早上,在佩利地区,他们正在给狗们套绳具。多丽,一只从来没显示出在什么地方出类拔萃的狗突然疯了,它长时间像狼似的嗥叫着,这就表明了它的情况。这声音使每一只狗都害怕地竖起了耳朵,竖起了毛发。叫喊完了,它就直扑向巴克。巴克从没见过狗发疯,因此它没理由害怕疯狂,但它知道这很恐怖,它就喘着气跑开了。巴克向前跑着,多丽在后面喘着气、口里尽是白沫地追着,离巴克仅是一步之遥。巴克恐怖地跑着,使多丽追不上它,但多丽是如此地疯狂又使巴克摆脱不了它。巴克一头扎进了树木茂盛的岛的前端,一路又下到岛的低洼地方,接着又跑上了第二个小岛,曲曲折折地又跑进了主河道,并且还想冒险地渡过大河去。这期间,虽然它没有回头看,但它能听到多丽就在它后面紧追着,疯叫着。费兰柯斯在后头追着喊了半英里,巴克才加倍地跑了回来,而多丽就和它差一步。巴克痛苦地喘着气,它怀着全部的信心,相信费兰柯斯会救它。
     赶狗人手里拿着一把斧子,让过了巴克,一斧子劈在紧追不舍的多丽的头上。
     巴克摇摇摆摆地走了过来,靠在雪橇上,呜呜咽咽地喘着气。它累极了。这给了斯佩茨一个好机会。它冲向巴克,用劲地把牙齿咬向不抵抗的敌人。它的牙齿撕扯着巴克咬进了它的骨头。这时费兰柯斯的鞭子落下来了,巴克满意地看着斯佩茨接受着对这个狗队的任 何成员来说都是最严厉的鞭子管理。
     “该死的斯佩茨是个魔鬼!”波罗特评论着:“哪天它要杀死巴克呢。”
     “巴克比它更邪乎。”费兰柯斯接口说:“这些天我一直在观察。听着,总有一天它会发疯的,它会一口一口把该死的斯佩茨咬死,让它永远躺在地上的。真的,我敢这么说!”
     从此以后,它们之间就有战争了。斯佩茨做为领头的狗,因为富有经验而控制着全队。它已明显地感到它至高无上的权威正在遭到这只陌生的苏格兰狗的威胁和挑战,巴克对它斯佩茨已经不是一条只在营地和旅途中显眼的狗了,巴克不像那些它所知道的苏格兰狗们。那些苏格兰狗,它们太软弱,它们只会在苦役中、在大雾里忍饥挨饿地垂死挣扎。而巴克却是个例外。巴克能独自持久地忍耐,直到成功、直到茂盛,它在火气、蛮性和狡猾上可以和那些强壮的野狗相比美。巴克是一只有主见的狗,它感到危险的只是这样的事实:那个穿红毛线衣拿大棒的人,出乎它意外地、轻率卤莽地乱打一气。巴克是绝顶地狡猾,带着一种完全是原始的耐性等待着它的好时光。
     不可避免的、对领导地位的撞击就要来到了,巴克向往着这一时刻的到来。它向往是因为它的本性,因为它已经被这种名誉吸引了,被这种不可理解的、对荒野中的艰难征途的自豪感所吸引了。这种自豪感引导着群狗们在艰苦的跋涉中走到最后的营地;这种自豪感诱惑着这些狗们愉快地在拉雪橇的绳套中死去。如果它们被绳套勒死了,它们也会愉快地被剥开心脏。这是一种由戴夫掌着雪橇的舵,索尔莱克斯向前拉着跑的自豪。这种自豪激励着它们从营地破晓而动,一扫愁眉不展、阴沉悲惨的状态,使它们变得浑身绷紧、充满热情,怀有远大的抱负和野心。这种自豪感整天激励着它们,使它们晚上一头到在所到达的营地里,恢复到又一个幽暗、忧郁、不休息、不满意的状况中去。就是这种自豪,支持着斯佩茨,使它在征途中打败了那些盲动的、偷懒的狗、和那些在早晨套挽绳时不愿动弹的狗,也是这种自豪,使它害怕巴克会当领头狗。这当然也是巴克的自豪。
     巴克公开地威胁着这种领导权,它把自己放在应该由它来惩罚那些偷懒者的位置上,它这样去做是故意地。一天晚上,下了大雪。第二天早晨,派克,一贯的装病者,不见了。它安稳地藏在雪堆下的窝里。费兰柯斯大声地喊着它的名字,徒劳而无用地到处找着它。费兰柯斯被大大地激怒了,他在整个营地里狂暴地跑来跑去,闻着、扒着每一个可能的地方。恐怖的吼叫使得藏身洞里的派克吓得浑身发抖。
     最后派克终于被揭露了出来。斯佩茨飞奔过去要惩治它,巴克也同样狂暴地奔了过去,站在了两者之间。这事是如此地出人意外、如此地快捷,以至于斯佩茨被撞得后退了几步,四脚还离了地。派克一直都在那里卑微地哆嗦着,大张着嘴不敢出声,这时它也跳了起来扑向它的那位被巴克撞翻在地的领导。这时的巴克,什么公平竟争之类,就都是早被遗忘得法典了,它扑向了斯佩茨。
     费兰柯斯面对着这一情景却在旁边咯咯地笑着。但他在公正管理方面是不躲不闪的,他的鞭子尽力地落在巴克身上。可这并没能把巴克从它的敌手处赶走,于是鞭打就变成了一种游戏。巴克被打的半死了过去,它不得不退后几步,鞭子一下一下地落在它的身上,而斯佩茨则完全惩治了那位多次触犯条例的派克。
     接下来的几天里,当离道森地区越来越近时,巴克仍旧在斯佩茨和违纪者之间进行干涉。但它做的非常狡猾,都是费兰柯斯不在旁边的时候。巴克带着这种隐蔽的叛变心理,内心中一种非同小可的不顺从萌发了,增长了。戴夫和索尔莱克斯一点儿都不矫柔造作,该干什么还是干什么。但其他队友们却是越来越糟了,越来越坏了。事情不再正常地进行下去了,经常有咬嘴。伴随着刺耳的争吵,随之而来的就是一个一个的麻烦。而这些争吵的始作俑者 就是巴克,它把费兰柯斯弄得一直都在疲于奔命。因为这位赶狗人一直都要去理解这两条狗之间的生死斗争,而他早就知道这种生死斗争是迟早都会发生的。不止一个晚上,就是发生在别的狗们之间的激烈争吵声,也会把赶狗人从睡袍中引出来,害怕又是巴克和斯佩茨在争斗。
     这种机会当时并没有发生,但是更大的战斗仍然还回来的。他们就在这种状况下,在一个枯燥的下午到达了道森地区。这里有很多的人,数不清的狗。巴克发现那些狗们都有自己的活儿,看上去好象有规定,狗们应该有活儿干。整个白天,它们排着长长的队伍,摇了过去、摆了过来。而在晚上,它们身上铃铛的玎玲声就不绝于耳。它们把小客屋的原木和引火柴拖运到矿上,干着在桑塔·克拉拉山谷地区的马匹们所能干的一切活儿。
     巴克到处都能遇见南方的狗,这主要还是因为它们都是些强壮的狼的后代。每天晚上,这些狗们很有规律地:在九点,十二点,三点高声唱起一种夜晚的歌,这是一只奇怪而又使人害怕的歌。可这却是巴克喜欢并乐意加入进去的。
     北方的极光冷冷地在头顶上燃烧,星星在远处的雾中跳跃,大地麻木地冻僵在像圣杯罩布似的厚厚的雪下。强悍狗们的这只歌是一只挑战生活的歌,它只是被低低地吟唱着。这些强悍的狗们拉着长长的呜咽,那么悲伤而凄凉。那声音听起来更多的是表达了在生活过程中明显存在的艰辛和劳苦。
     这是一只古老的歌,老得和它们的祖先一样。远古祖先的时候,这只悲凉的歌就一直被传唱着。这只歌被一代又一代数不清的灾难所包围。这只歌引起了巴克那么强烈的共鸣,它是那样的悲叹,当它呜咽悲伤的时候,它是带着生活中的痛苦。这种痛苦,它的那些在荒野中的祖、父辈们是经历过的。这是一种对寒冷、害怕和神秘的痛苦,这是一种使它们处在更加神秘的黑暗中、使它们更加恐惧的痛苦。这种痛苦搅动了巴克对那没完没了的火的年代的回忆,也惹起了它对它的祖先们在世世代代的嗥叫声中对生活的向往。
     在道森地区他们呆了七天。他们沿着陡峭的河岸,从巴拉克斯到尤康?特雷尔,一直到了戴伊和盐水区。波罗特带着许多信件;如果还有什么东西比这些信件更紧迫的话,他就会早把它们也带来得;况且旅途的自豪一直都吸引着他;他更要创下一个年度记录……等等,这几样就是他来此的目的。一周的休息使狗们恢复了体力,他们又整装待发了。他们在这个地区所走过的路被后来的旅行者们踩的结实了,更进一步,警方已在这里的两三个地方给狗和人们贮藏了食物。这样,他们的旅行就变的轻松多了。
     他们要到六十英里桩号去。第一天先跑五十英里,第二天就看见他们大呼小叫地上了尤康通往派尔的路上了。可是这样精彩的奔跑并非没有大的麻烦和懊恼。在费兰柯斯看来,由巴克制造的阴险的叛变毁灭了整个休戚相关的狗队,巴克已不再是一只在路上跳跃的狗了。受到自己行为鼓舞的巴克一次又一次的捣鬼使得整个狗队不断地陷进各种各样的小麻烦中。斯佩茨作为领头狗不再令别的狗害怕了,对它原有的畏惧不再有了;相反,却产生了对它权威的挑战。派克有天晚上从斯佩茨那里抢走了一条鱼,在巴克的保护下吞了下去。又一天晚上,塔布和乔跟斯佩茨争斗,斯佩茨被迫地放弃了对它们的惩罚。更有甚者,比利,一直都是好性子,现在也不耐烦了,叫起来也不象过去那样低三下四了。而巴克若不吼叫,毛发不威严地竖起来,就从不走近斯佩茨。实际上,它的行为更接近于恐吓和欺侮,它已经能在斯佩茨的鼻子尖下大摇大摆地走来走去了。
     这种对纪律和规则破坏的同时也影响了狗队中狗与狗之间彼此的关系。它们之间的争吵越来越多,到了宿营地,那简直就成了怒号争斗的疯狗院。只有戴夫和索尔来克斯没有改变多少,虽然它们也被那些没完没了的争斗弄得易怒易燥。费兰克斯野蛮地怒骂着、沮咒着,徒劳无用地跺着脚、踩着雪,气得直撕自己的头发。他的鞭子一直都在狗群中响着,但这只能起到很小的作用。只要他一转身,狗们的争吵就马上开始。他用鞭子支持着斯佩茨,巴克却支持着其他的狗。费兰柯斯知道这都是巴克在后面捣鬼,而巴克也知道费兰柯斯知道了这一点。但巴克太聪明了,从没有被残忍的抓住,它在挽绳和套具中忠实地劳作着,它已使这种劳作变成了一件愉快的事。而对它来说,使它的队友们陷进争斗,使旅途变成一团乱麻则更是一种更大的狡猾而阴险的愉快。
     在泰肯山口地区,一天晚饭后,塔布一脚踩出了一只雪鞋兔(一种北美洲兔),它赶忙去追,追了一阵却追丢了,不一会儿整个狗队都大喊了起来。一百码以外是一个西北警察的营地,有五十余只狗,这些狗个个强壮 ,它们也加入到了对雪鞋兔的追击中。那只兔子跑下了河道,拐进了小河弯,又越上了一条坚固的冰床。它轻快地在雪面上奔跑着,而狗们却吃力地在雪堆里跋涉。巴克领着这支有六十余只个个彪悍的狗所组成的狗队,弯着腰,一只接一只地,向前冲着。但它抓不住这只雪鞋兔。它弯着腰跑在雪道上,热情地大叫着。它灿烂的身体在雪中闪着光,一步一步地跳着。在苍白的月光下,那只雪鞋兔像一只雾中幽白的鬼魂 ,一闪一闪地,在前面奔着、跳着。
     所有那些被时代所唤起的古老、原始的本能,现在正驱使着成千上万的人们 离开喧嚣的城市,到森林和平原里去 ,用化学方法所推进的铅弹去杀死话着的东西。而对体热和鲜血的欲望,对活活生物杀死的快乐,这一切巴克也同样具有。只有这些——这样的欲望和欢乐才是无限的渊博。它跑在这群狗的前面, 追得那只野物精疲力尽。它要用它的牙齿杀死这一块活着的、欢奔乱跳的肉,它要用这只雪鞋兔温暖的热血来洗浴它的口、鼻和双眼。
     有一种消魂而忘形的东西能使生活的热度达到顶点,生活在此之上再也不能升华了,这就是对生活似是而非的讨论。当一个人最大限度地活着,这种消魂忘形的东西就来了。这种消魂忘形的东西,这种活生生的健忘,能使艺术家醒悟,使他陷入热情而不能自拔;能使士兵醒悟,战争的疯狂在被侵占的土地上拒绝饶恕;这也能使巴克醒悟,它领着这只狗队,唱着似狼的歌,紧追着猎物。那猎物活生生地在月光下飞快地向前奔跑着。巴克出自本能地唱着歌,它的这部分本能,比它返回到时光内核里的它本身还要深刻。它被生活中这种峰涌而来的险峻之浪控制着。这种潮水般的浪,使它每块独立的肌肉、每个关节、每个包着关节活动着的键子肉,各自都完全地欢快了起来,完全地发红、发热,完全地奔放、猖獗。这一切都在运动中表现了出来。巴克在星光下欢欢喜喜地飞奔着,越过了那些不能动弹的死去了的面孔。
     可是,斯佩茨却很冷静而有算计,它甚至现在还是处在它最至高无上的自我陶醉的情绪之中。它离开了狗队,穿过了一条狭小的土地。那里的小河流里,有一个长长的弯子。巴克不知道这个地点,当它饶过这个弯子时,那只像雾中鬼魂似的兔子还在它前面飞奔着。它还看见了另一只更大的雾中鬼魂从渐渐逼近的河岸上过来了,这个大的鬼魂立刻接近了兔子的路线。这是斯佩茨。兔子不能再后退了。斯佩茨的白牙咬住了兔子的后背,兔子在空中尖声地像 一个被打伤的人似的喊叫着。听到这种叫喊,这种对生命的呼唤,你一下子就能感觉出从生命的顶点跌了下来,掉进了死亡的谷地。随着巴克接踵而止的群狗们高声地唱起了欢乐的地狱之歌。
     巴克没有喊,它没有阻止自己,而是跑向斯佩茨,和它肩并肩地站在了一起,它是如此困难地错过了那只兔子的吼咙。它和斯佩茨滚在一起、相互撕咬着,掀起了一阵雪粉。斯佩茨好不容易站稳了四肢,仿佛没有被推翻在地。它冲向巴克的前胸,跳得越来越近了。斯佩茨两次将它那像捕捉机钢爪子似的牙齿紧紧地咬在一起,它退后一步以便站得稳一些,瘦瘦的仰起的嘴唇扭动着、咆哮着。
     白牙一闪,巴克就知道了一切,决战的时刻已经到了,这是要死亡的时刻。它们转着圈,咆哮着,耳朵竖了起来,渴望着要看到自己的胜利。这种情景巴克太熟悉了。它仿佛把一切都想起来了——白皑皑的森林、白皑皑的大地、惨白的月光、毛骨悚然的战斗。越过皑皑的白雪,就是可怕的死一般的寂静。空气中最细小的萧萧声都没有了——什么都不移动了,树叶也不哆嗦了。群狗们显见的呼吸声在霜冻的空气中渐渐飘起,它们在给雪鞋兔稍做了点动作后就围了过来。这些狗们都还是些没怎么驯化好的狼,它们此刻已排成了一个心目中的圈。它们也很沉默,它们的目光闪着亮,它们的气息正慢慢地向前移来。这些对巴克已经不新鲜了,已经不陌生了,这都是那些古老年月的情景了。这种情景从古至今仿佛一直如此,一直都没有变。
     斯佩茨是一个富有经验的战士。穿过北冰洋,从斯佩茨伯格越过加拿大和巴瑞斯,它一直都用所有狗们的方式和态度,保持着自己的尊严,成功地控制着其他的狗。
     斯佩茨的愤怒是厉害的愤怒,但它决不盲目愤怒。在撕裂和毁灭的欲望中,它从不忘记它的敌人也有撕裂一切的愿望。它从不冲锋,直到它准备好了要接受冲锋。它也从不进攻,直到它第一次防御这种进攻。
     巴克徒劳地拼死将它的牙齿咬进斯佩茨的脖子。但是不管在哪里,它的牙咬住了软一些的肉体,哪里它都会碰见同样坚硬的斯佩茨的牙。牙撞击着牙,嘴唇被撕破了,流着血。巴克不能攻破它敌人的防线。这时它兴奋了起来,用旋风般的冲锋包围住了斯佩茨。
     一次又一次地,它试图咬住斯佩茨那雪白的喉咙。那里,生命的气泡浸在表皮上。一次又一次地斯佩茨都进行了躲闪,它都跑开了去。巴克又冲锋了,还是要冲向那个喉咙。突然,它稍做停顿,把头偏向另一边。它要用它的肩膀去撞斯佩茨的肩膀,它要把它撞到、撞翻。但是,巴克肩膀的每次撞击都被斯佩茨轻轻地跳开而落了空。
     斯佩茨没有被撞到,可巴克却流着血,使劲地喘着气。战斗正变得不顾一切。所有的白色、所有的寂静、所有凶狠的圈子都在等待着,等待着去吃掉那不管是哪一条不能坚持下来的狗。这时巴克变得越来越迂回,而斯佩茨却越来越爱冲锋,它一直使巴克站不稳四肢。巴克一有不支,六十余条狗的圈子就惊跳起来。但它使自己几乎在半空中就又支持住了,使狗们的圈子一次又一次地退了下去。狗们也就一次又一次地等待着。
     但是,巴克有一种伟大的品质——想象。它靠本能作战,但它还能靠头脑作战。这一次它向前冲着,做出个样子,继续用刚才那种撞肩膀的老办法。但在最后那一刻,它却低下头扫掉了下面的雪粉,牙齿接近了斯佩茨的左前腿。咯吱咯吱咬碎骨头的声音传了过来,白色的斯佩茨用三条腿面对着它。巴克缠住了斯佩茨,试图把它撞到。然后它又重复刚才的鬼计咬住了它的右腿。斯佩茨忍住巨大的疼痛,不管怎样地孤立无援,它都疯狂地挣扎着。它看见了那个围着它的沉默的狗圈、看见了那些闪光的眼睛、看见了那些懒洋洋地垂下来的舌头。银色清澈的气息飘了过来,飘了过来……渐渐地飘向了它,就像过去同样呼吸的气息飘向它的敌手一样,只不过这一次它是一只被击败的狗。
     它是没有什么希望了。巴克是不会改变的。怜悯、慈悲是为那些更文雅一些的地方、环境预备的。巴克调动起了所有的策略,准备做最后的冲击。狗们所组成的圈子已经很紧了,它已能感觉到这些强健的家伙们在它两侧的呼吸声了,它已能完全看见它们了。巴克越过斯佩茨,看了看两边,半蹲着准备跳跃。狗们的目光都盯在它身上,稍有不慎都能引起失败。每只动物都不动了,仿佛变成了石头,只有斯佩茨浑身打着颤,毛发直竖,前后摇摆着,恐怖地威吓着 、咆哮着、嗥叫着,仿佛死亡就在眼前。这时巴克跳了起来,它的肩终于断然地碰到了斯佩茨的肩。狗们黑色的圈子终于变成了一个点,在流动的雪夜的月光下,斯佩茨从视野中消失了。
     巴克站在那里看着。这位成功的战士,这位超群优秀的原始兽,它进行了它的杀戮,它发现这样做很好,很好..


执素衣

ZxID:13389413


等级: 内阁元老
举报 只看该作者 沙发   发表于: 2013-10-08 0


CHAPTER 2

THE LAW OF CLUB AND FANG


Buck's first day on the Yea beach was like a nightmare. Every hour was filled with shock and surprise. He had been suddenly jerked from the heart of civilization and flung into the heart of things primordial. No lazy, sun-kissed life was this, with nothing to do but loaf and be bored. Here was neither peace, nor rest, nor a moment's safety. All was confusion and action, and every moment life and limb were in peril. There was imperative need to be constantly alert; for these dogs and men were not town dogs and men. They were savages, all of them, who knew no law but the law of club and fang.
He had never seen dogs fight as these wolfish creatures fought, and his first experience taught him an unforgettable lesson. it is true, it was a vicarious experience, else he would not have lived to profit by it. Curly was the victim. They were camped near the log store, where she, in her friendly way, made advances to a husky dog the size of a full-grown wolf, though not half so large as she. There was no warning, only a leap in like a flash, a metallic clip of teeth, a leap out equally swift, and Curly's face was ripped open from eye to jaw.
It was the wolf manner of fighting, to strike and leap away; but there was more to it than this. Thirty or forty huskies ran to the spot and surrounded the combatants in an intent and silent circle. Buck did not comprehend that silent intentness, nor the eager way with which they were licking their chops. Curly rushed her antagonist, who struck again and leaped aside. He met her next rush with his chest, in a peculiar fashion that tumbled her off her feet. She never regained them. This was what the onlooking huskies had waited for. They closed in upon her, snarling and yelping, and she was buried, screaming with agony, beneath the bristling mass of bodies.
So sudden was it, and so unexpected, that Buck was taken aback. He saw Spitz run out his scarlet tongue in a way he had of laughing; and he saw Francois, swinging an axe, spring into the mess of dogs. Three men with clubs were helping him to scatter them. It did not take long. Two minutes from the time Curly went down, the last of her assailants were clubbed off. But she lay there limp and lifeless in the bloody, trampled snow, almost literally torn to pieces, the swart half-breed standing over her and cursing horribly. The scene often came back to Buck to trouble him in his sleep. So that was the way. No fair play. Once down, that was the end of you. Well, he would see to it that he never went down. Spitz ran out his tongue and laughed again, and from that moment Buck hated him with a bitter and deathless hatred.
Before he had recovered from the shock caused by the tragic passing of Curly, he received another shock. Francois fastened upon him an arrangement of straps and buckles. It was a harness, such as he had seen the grooms put on the horses at home. And as he had seen horses work, so he was set to work, hauling Francois on a sled to the forest that fringed the valley, and returning with a load of firewood. Though his dignity was sorely hurt by thus being made a draught animal, he was too wise to rebel. He buckled down with a will and did his best, though it was all new and strange. Francois was stern, demanding instant obedience, and by virtue of his whip receiving instant obedience; while Dave, who was an experienced wheeler, nipped Buck's hindquarters whenever he was in error. Spitz was the leader, likewise experienced, and while he could not always get at Buck, he growled sharp reproof now and again, or cunningly threw his weight in the traces to jerk Buck into the way he should go. Buck learned easily, and under the combined tuition of his two mates and Francois made remarkable progress. Ere they returned to camp he knew enough to stop at "ho," to go ahead at "mush," to swing wide on the bends, and to keep clear of the wheeler when the loaded sled shot downhill at their heels.
"Three very good dogs," Francois told Perrault. "Dat Buck, him pull like hell. I teach him quick as anything."
By afternoon, Perrault, who was in a hurry to be on the trail with his dispatches, returned with two more dogs. "Billee" and "Joe" he called them, two brothers, and true huskies both. Sons of the one mother though they were, they were different as day and night. Billee's one fault was his excessive good nature, while Joe was the very opposite, sour and introspective, with a perpetual snarl and a malignant eye. Buck received them in comradely fashion, Dave ignored them, while Spitz proceeded to thrash first one and then the other. Billee wagged his tail appeasingly, turned to run when he saw that appeasement was of no avail, and cried (still appeasingly) when Spitz's sharp teeth scored his flank. But no matter how Spitz circled, Joe whirled around on his heels to face him, mane bristling, ears laid back, lips writhing and snarling, jaws clipping together as fast as he could snap, and eyes diabolically gleaming--the incarnation of belligerent fear. So terrible was his appearance that Spitz was forced to forego disciplining him; but to cover his own discomfiture he turned upon the inoffensive and wailing Billee and drove him to the confines of the camp.
By evening Perrault secured another dog, an old husky, long and lean and gaunt, with a battle-scarred face and a single eye which flashed a warning of prowess that commanded respect. He was called Sol-leks, which means the Angry One. Like Dave, he asked nothing, gave nothing, expected nothing: and when he marched slowly and deliberately into their midst, even Spitz left him alone. he had one peculiarity which Buck was unlucky enough to discover. He did not like to be approached on his blind side. Of this offense Buck was unwittingly guilty, and the first knowledge he had of his indiscretion was when Sol-leks whirled upon him and slashed his shoulder to the bone for three inches up and down. Forever after Buck avoided his blind side, and to the last of their comradeship had no more trouble.a His only apparent ambition, like Dave's, was to be left alone; though, as Buck was afterward to learn, each of them possessed one other and even more vital ambition.
That night Buck faced the great problem of sleeping. The tent, illumined by a candle, glowed warmly in the midst of the white plain; and when he, as a matter of course, entered it, both Perrault and Francois bombarded him with curses and cooking utensils, till he recovered from his consternation and fled ignominiously into the outer cold. A chill wind was blowing that nipped him sharply and bit with especial venom into his wounded shoulder. He lay down on the snow and attempted to sleep, but the frost soon drove him shivering to his feet. Miserable and disconsolate, he wandered about among the many tents, only to find that one place was as cold as another. Here and there savage dogs rushed upon him, but he bristled his neck-hair and snarled (for he was learning fast) and they let him go his way unmolested.
Finally an idea came to him. He would return and see how his own teammates were making out. To his astonishment, they had disappeared. Again he wandered about through the great camp, looking for them, and again he returned. Were they in the tent? No, that could not be, else he would not have been driven out. Then where could they possibly be? With drooping tail and shivering body, very forlorn indeed, he aimlessly circled the tent. Suddenly the snow gave way beneath his fore legs and he sank down. Something wriggled under his feet. He sprang back, bristling and snarling, fearful of the unseen and unknown. But a friendly little yelp reassured him, and he went back to investigate. A whiff of warm air ascended to his nostrils, and there, curled up under the snow in a snug ball, lay Billee. He whined placatingly, squirmed and wriggled to show his good will and intentions, and even ventured, as a bribe for peace, to lick Buck's face with his warm wet tongue.
Another lesson. So that was the way they did it, eh? Buck confidently selected a spot, and with much fuss and wasted effort proceeded to dig a hole for himself. In a trice the heat from his body filled the confined space and he was asleep. The day had been long and arduous, and he slept soundly and comfortably, though he growled and barked and wrestled with bad dreams.
Nor did he open his eyes till roused by the noises of the waking camp. At first he did not know where he was. It had snowed during the night and he was completely buried. The snow walls pressed him on every side, and a great surge of fear swept through him--the fear of the wild thing for the trap. It was a token that he was harking back through his own life to the lives of his forebears; for he was a civilized dog, an unduly civilized dog and of his own experience knew no trap and so could not of himself fear it. The muscles of his whole body contracted spasmodically and instinctively, the hair on his neck and shoulders stood on end, and with a ferocious snarl he bounded straight up into the blinding day, the snow flying about him in a flashing cloud. Ere he landed on his feet, he saw the white camp spread out before him and knew where he was and remembered all that had passed from the time he went for a stroll with Manuel to the hole he had dug for himself the night before.
A shout from Francois hailed his appearance. "What I say?" the dog-driver cried to Perrault. "Dat Buck for sure learn quick as anything."
Perrault nodded gravely. As courier for the Canadian Government, bearing important dispatches, he was anxious to secure the best dogs, and he was particularly gladdened by the possession of Buck.
Three more huskies were added to the team inside an hour, making a total of nine, and before another quarter of an hour had passed they were in harness and swinging up the trail toward the Yea Canyon. Buck was glad to be gone, and though the work was hard he found he did not particularly despise it. he was surprised at the eagerness which animated the whole team and which was communicated to him;i but still more surprising was the change wrought in Dave and Sol-leks. They were new dogs, utterly transformed by the harness. All passiveness and unconcern had dropped from them. They were alert and active, anxious that the work should go well, and fiercely irritable with whatever, by delay or confusion, retarded that work. The toil of the traces seemed the supreme expression of their being, and all that they lived for and the only thing in which they took delight.
Dave was wheeler or sled dog, pulling in front of him was Buck, then came Sol-leks; the rest of the team was strung out ahead, single file, to the leader, which position was filled by Spitz.
Buck had been purposely placed between Dave and Sol-leks so that he might receive instruction. Apt scholar that he was, they were equally apt teachers, never allowing him to linger long in error, and enforcing their teaching with their sharp teeth. Dave was fair and very wise. He never nipped Buck without cause, and he never failed to nip him when he stood in need of it. As Francois' whip backed him up, Buck found it to be cheaper to mend his ways than to retaliate. Once, during a brief halt, when he got tangled in the traces and delayed the start, both Dave and Sol-leks flew at him and administered a sound trouncing. The resulting tangle was even worse, but Buck took good care to keep the traces clear thereafter; and ere the day was done, so well had he mastered his work, his mates about ceased nagging him. Francois' whip snapped less frequently, and Perrault even honored Buck by lifting up his feet and carefully examining them.
It was a hard day's run, up the Canyon, through Sheep Camp, past the Scales and the timber line, across glaciers and snowdrifts hundreds of feet deep, and over the great Chilcoot Divide, which stands between the salt water and the fresh and guards forbiddingly the sad and lonely North. They made good time down the chain of lakes which fills the craters of extinct volcanoes, and late that night pulled into the huge camp at the head of Lake Bennett, where thousands of gold-seekers were building boats against the breakup of the ice in the spring. Buck made his hole in the snow and slept the sleep of the exhausted just, but all too early was routed out in the cold darkness and harnessed with his mates to the sled.
That day they made forty miles, the trail being packed; but the next day, and for many days to follow, they broke their own trail, worked harder, and made poorer time. As a rule, Perrault traveled ahead of the team, packing the snow with webbed shoes to make it easier for them. Francois, guiding the sled at the gee-pole, sometimes exchanged places with him, but not often. Perrault was in a hurry, and he prided himself on his knowledge of ice, which knowledge was indispensable, for the fall ice was very thin, and where there was swift water, there was no ice at all.
Day after day, for days unending, Buck toiled in the traces. Always, they broke camp in the dark, and the first gray of dawn found them hitting the trail with fresh miles reeled off behind them. And always they pitched camp after dark, eating their bit of fish, and crawling to sleep into the snow. Buck was ravenous. The pound and a half of sundried salmon, which was his ration for each day, seemed to go nowhere. He never had enough, and suffered from perpetual hunger pangs. Yet the other dogs, because they weighed less and were born to the life, received a pound only of the fish and managed to keep in good condition.
He swiftly lost the fastidiousness which had characterized his old life. A dainty eater, he found that his mates, finishing first, robbed him of his unfinished ration. There was no defending it. While he was fighting off two or three, it was disappearing down the throats of the others. To remedy this, he ate as fast as they; and, so greatly did hunger compel him, he was not above taking what did not belong to him. He watched and learned. When he saw Pike, one of the new dogs, a clever malingerer and thief, slyly steal a slice of bacon when Perrault's back was turned, he duplicated the performance the following day, getting away with the whole chunk. A great uproar was raised, but he was unsuspected; while Dub, an awkward blunderer who was always getting caught, was punished for Buck's misdeed.
This first theft marked Buck as fit to survive in the hostile Northland environment. It marked his adaptability, his capacity to adjust himself to changing conditions, the lack of which would have meant swift and terrible death. It marked, further, the decay or going to pieces of his moral nature, a vain thing and a handicap in the ruthless struggle for existence. It was all well enough in the Southland, under the law of love and fellowship, to respect private property and personal feeling; but in the Northland, under the law of club and fang, whoso took such things into account was a fool, and in so far as he observed them he would fail to prosper.
Not that Buck reasoned it out. He was fit, that was all, and unconsciously he accommodated himself to the new mode of life. All his days, no matter what the odds, he had never run from a fight. But the club of the man in the red sweater had beaten into him a more fundamental and primitive code. Civilized, he could have died for a moral consideration, say the defense of Judge Miller's riding whip; but the completeness of his decivilization was now evidenced by his ability to flee from the defense of a moral consideration and so save his hide. He did not steal for joy of it, but because of the clamor of his stomach. He did not rob openly, but stole secretly and cunningly, out of respect for club and fang. In short, the things he did were done because it was easier to do them than not to do them.
His development (or retrogression) was rapid. His muscles became hard as iron, and he grew callous to all ordinary pain. He achieved an internal as well as external economy. He could eat anything, no matter how loathsome or indigestible; and, once eaten, the juices of his stomach extracted the last least particle of nutriment; and his blood carried it to the farthest reaches of his body, building it into the toughest and stoutest of tissues. Sight and scent became remarkably keen, while his hearing developed such acuteness that in his sleep he heard the faintest sound and knew whether it heralded peace or peril. He learned to bite the ice out with his teeth when it collected between his toes; and when he was thirsty and there was a thick scum of ice over the water hole, he would break it by rearing and striking it with stiff fore legs. His most conspicuous trait was an ability to scent the wind and forecast it a night in advance. No matter how breathless the air when he dug his nest by tree or bank, the wind that later blew inevitably found him to leeward, sheltered and snug.
And not only did he learn by experience, but instincts long dead became alive again. The domesticated generations fell from him. In vague ways he remembered back to the youth of the breed, to the time the wild dogs ranged in packs through the primeval forest and killed their meat as they ran it down. It was no task for him to learn to fight with cut and slash and the quick wolf snap. In this manner had fought forgotten ancestors. They quickened the old life within him, and the old tricks which they had stamped into the heredity of the breed were his tricks. They came to him without effort or discovery, as though they had been his always. And when, on the still cold nights, he pointed his nose at a star and howled long and wolf-like, it was his ancestors, dead and dust, pointing nose at star and howling down through the centuries and through him. And his cadences were their cadences, the cadences which voiced their woe and what to them was the meaning of the stillness, and the cold, and dark.
Thus, as token of what a puppet thing life is, the ancient song surged through him and he came into his own again; and he came because men had found a yellow metal in the North, and because Manuel was a gardener's helper whose wages did not lap over the needs of his wife and divers small copies of himself.



第二章 大棒和狗牙的法律

  
     巴克在戴伊海滨的第一天就像一场恶梦,每个小时都充满着震惊和激动,它从文明的心脏地区一下子跳到了原始荒漠的旋涡之中。这里没有懒惰、这里阳光灿烂,但这里除了闲荡和被讨厌外再也没有什么正经事可做。这里没有和平、没有休息、没有片刻的安全,一切都混乱不堪,都需要行动。在这里,每分钟生命和肢体都处在危险之中,都有一种强烈的需要,要时刻不断地保持机敏。因为这里的狗们和人们不是城里的狗们和人们,他们都是些野蛮的狗和野蛮的人,都是些不知法律为何物,只认大棒和狗牙的人们和狗们。
它从没见过狗和狗之间的战斗会像那些只有具备狼性的东西们之间的战斗那样地惨烈。它的第一次这样的经历就教给了它永不会忘记的一课。现在看起来这都是真的,但当时的认识却并非如此,别的什么经历都将不会像这次经历可以从中得到教诲。这次经历的牺牲者是柯利。
     它们在木材场附近宿营,在那里柯利用友好的方式和一只身材丰满如狼的壮狗接近。那狗的身材不及柯利的一半。没有任何预兆,只是像闪电一样地一跳,一付似金属夹子一般的狗牙只那么一闪,柯利的脸上就从眼部到下鄂被撕开了一个大口子。这是只有狼才会有的作战方式。
     还有比这更凶的,三四十只壮狗奔跑过来围住了正在作战的这两只狗,深怀敌意地、默默地把它们围成了一个圈。巴克一点都不了解它们这种热切的击败对手的方式。柯利冲向了它的敌手,那狗跳了起来躲向一边。柯里第二次又向它的胸脯冲去,那狗一个漂亮的翻滚,又使柯利扑了空。但柯利却再也没有把脚落在地上。这正是等在旁边的那些壮狗们所期待的,它们一下子围了过来,嚎着、吼着…柯利被埋葬了,它愤怒而凄惨地尖叫着、在那些毛发竖起、有着强键体魄的狗们的下面……
     就是那么快、就是那么出人意料,以至于巴克都退后了一步。它看到斯佩茨用它那特有的方式伸出深红色的舌头笑着,它看到费兰柯斯挥着一把斧头跳进了乱轰轰的狗群中,三个拿大棒的男子也过来帮助他,他们驱散了那些狗。这没用多少时间,最多两分钟,柯利就倒下了。它的最后的一批凶手被大棒轰走了,柯利却躺在了那里,它的腿断了,无声无息的生命之驱浸泡在血泊之中,殷红的鲜血渗透了皑皑大地,它的驱体用不着想象已被撕成了碎片。黑皮肤的混血儿站在柯利的尸体旁边愤怒地咒骂着。这个场景经常在巴克的睡梦中显现。这就是生活,没有什么公平可说。一旦倒下了,那就是你的末日。对,巴克可以去看这个场景,但巴克决不能倒下。
     斯佩茨吐出舌头又笑了,从这一刻起巴克就恨上了它,带着痛苦,带着不死的仇恨。
柯利的残死对它的打击还没有过去,巴克又糟受了另一次打击:费兰柯斯用皮带和扣子把它牢牢地捆绑了起来。这是一套枷锁,这种枷锁它见过。在南方的家里,那些鹅们就是这样被绑在马背上的。
     就像它曾见到过的马是怎样干活儿的一样,巴克也被派上了这种活儿:用小雪撬拉着费兰柯斯去远在山谷边的森林里,回来时拉着一雪橇木头。它的骄傲的自尊虽说被当做了一般的“动物特遣队”所驱使了而受到了伤害,但它还是很聪明的没有反抗,它用一种意志力弯下腰去尽力奔跑。这种工作对它来说完全是崭新的、陌生的,而费兰柯斯又是严厉的、苛刻的,他随时都要求忠顺和听话。鞭子的优越性就是能不间断地收到这种忠顺和听话。戴夫是一个富有经验的雪橇掌舵者,无论巴克何时有了过失,它都只是轻轻咬一下它的后背。斯佩茨是狗队的队长,也很有经验。它总是不能理解巴克,它尖声咆哮着、时不时地责备着,或者狡猾地、自以为是地把巴克拉回到它想让它在的路上。巴克很容易就学会了这一点,在付了一定的代价后,它联络了另两名伙伴,使得费兰柯斯取得了辉煌的成就。节日前夜返回营地时,巴克已经很明白了:“号 、号”就是停,“马时 、马时”就是向前冲,拐弯时要绕个大圈子,而当负重的小雪撬滑下山坡紧跟在它们的后爪子时,一定要使掌舵的狗视野很清楚。
     “真是三条好狗哇!”费兰柯斯告诉波罗特:“该死的巴克,真行!像座山一样,想让它多快就多快。”
     到中午时分,波罗特沿着派他去的地方急急忙忙地回来了,还带来了两条狗。他叫它们比利和乔。这兄弟俩都很强壮,虽是一母所生,但性格却黑白分明。比利的缺点就是它有一付过分的好性子。而乔正好相反,脾气很坏,经常都在想着什么,不断地乱吼乱叫,还有一双恶毒的眼睛。巴克同志式地接待了它们,戴夫对它们不理不睬。而斯佩茨,则先是打败了一个,接着又想战胜另一个。比利息事宁人地摇着尾巴,发现自己的忍让无济于事干脆就跑开了。可斯佩茨的利牙还是咬住了它的侧身,比利也只是叫着、忍让着。但是乔却不行,不管斯佩茨如何地转圈,乔都蹬着后腿正面对着它,跟着它一起转圈。乔毛发竖起、耳朵后扬、嘴唇翻卷着、吼叫着、上下牙交错着随时要进行嘶咬、双眼恶魔一般残忍地闪着凶光……整个身体冲满了交战前的恐怖和紧张。面对乔如此可怕的形象,斯佩茨被迫放弃了对它的惩戒。但为了掩盖自己的失败,它就又转向那个并没招惹它、一直都在旁边悲叹的比利,将它一直欺侮到营地的边缘。
     到了晚上,波罗特又弄来了一只狗。这狗看上去有点老,叫起来声音嘶哑,长长的身子贫弱而又憔悴,脸上有一快战斗留下来的伤疤,一只独眼闪着凶猛勇敢的光,一看就能引起尊敬。它叫索尔莱克斯,意思就是愤怒者。像戴夫一样,它什么也不要求、什么也不付出、什么也不期望。它慢慢行走的时候,心里老在盘算着什么,甚至连斯佩茨也不敢招惹它。它有一个怪癖,巴克不幸还没有发觉,就是它不愿别的狗走近它瞎眼的那一边。就为这个缘故,巴克无意中惹恼了它。当索尔莱克斯旋风般地扑向它,一口咬住了它肩膀上三寸深的骨头上下摆动时,巴克才为自己的轻率获得了第一次认识。从此以后,巴克就回避它瞎了眼的那一面,并一直到它们友谊的结束,再也没有发生过麻烦。索尔莱克斯唯一表面上的野心、抱负,像戴夫一样,就是单独走开。虽然,像巴克以后所学到的,它们每只狗都相对具有(也许是更加生气勃勃的)野心,但索尔莱克斯却不是这样的。
那天晚上,巴克面临着巨大的睡觉问题。帐篷被蜡烛所照亮,在可怕的旷野中闪着红光。当它很自然地像通常那样走进帐蓬时,波罗特和费兰柯斯的咒骂夹杂着一些炊食用具向它铺天盖地地仍了过来。它从惊恐中恢复后,可鄙地逃到了外面的寒冷之中。冷风刺骨地吹到了它的身上,尤其是恶毒地钻进了它受伤的肩膀里。它躺在雪堆旁试图睡觉,可是不久它就被冻得浑身发抖。怀着凄惨而郁闷的心情,它在众多的帐篷之间徘徊,只发现那些地方一个比一个更冷。到处都有野狗向它冲来,它就一直仰起脖子嗥叫,(这它学得很快)它们就不再折磨它,让它走开了。
     最后它有了主意,它要返回去看看它的队友们的情形怎么样。使它吃惊的是,它们都不见了。它又一次在这个硕大的营地里徘徊,寻找着它们。它又一次想回到帐篷,它们在帐篷里吗?不,不可能,要不它就不会被赶出来的。那么它们都在哪里呢?带着一条颓丧底垂的尾巴和一个浑身发抖的身子,巴克极度地绝望。它毫无目标地在帐蓬之间兜着圈子。突然它的前腿踩到了一个雪堆陷了下去,有什么东西在它的脚下蠕动着。巴克一跃而起,竖起毛发吼叫了起来,对脚下这个不知道是什么东西的东西十分害怕。可是对方一声友好而小声的吠叫使它又平静了下来,于是它就走过去观察,一股暖气升到了它的鼻孔。那里,圈缩在雪下舒适的厅子里的是比利。比利悲哀而和解地叫着,慢慢蠕动着,百般扭动着身子表示着它良好的愿望和意图,甚至它还想冒险贿赂和平,用它那温暖潮湿的舌头来舔巴克的脸。
     这又是一课,原来它们就是这么睡觉的。巴克十分自信地也选了一个点,故意大惊小怪地、磨磨蹭蹭地、极端费事地为自己挖了一个洞。身体的热量马上填满了那仅有的空间,它躺了下去睡着了。晚上的时间是漫长的、艰难的,它舒适地躺在那里、呼吸均匀、虽然在恶梦中它又吼又叫又乱动。
     营地里噪杂的吵闹声把它惊醒,起先它不知在什么地方。下了一夜雪,它完全被埋了起来。四周的雪墙向它挤来,汹涌澎湃的恐怖之浪很快打遍了它的全身-------这是一种对荒野之中充满了陷井和圈套的恐怖。这是一个征兆。于是,它命令它的整个生命全部贯穿到它的忍耐、坚韧之中去。因为它是一条有文明意识的狗,一条非常文明化了的狗,它的生活经历里根本没有什么陷井、圈套之类的东西。因而它自己也从不害怕什么。现在,它全身的肌肉都痉孪而本能地绷紧了起来,脖子上、肩膀上的毛发从根部立起。它冲着灰朦朦的天空凶狠而残暴地嚎叫了一声,大雪像闪光的云飞落到它的身上。在四肢踏上土地之前,它已看到眼前就是那白色的营地,意识到现在它又在这个地方了。它回忆起了和曼纽尔一起去散步,一直想到昨天晚上挖这个洞过夜为止。
     费兰柯斯的一声大喊使它回到了眼前:“我说什么来着?”这个赶狗人向波罗特喊着:“该死的巴克肯定学什么都非常快的!你看看它挖的这个洞!”
     波罗特严肃地点点头。做为加拿大政府的信使,他负担着重要的公事,他十分焦急地想要找到最可靠的狗,他尤其满意巴克的表现。
     一个钟头里狗队里又增加了几条强健的狗,使总数增加到了九只。没过多久它们就都被套上了绳索,摇摇摆摆地行进在通往戴伊卡农的路上了。巴克现在很高兴做这件活儿,虽然发现干这活很累,但它认识到实在不能小看了这活儿。它还非常吃惊地发现,它有一股使整个狗队生气勃勃的热情,这使它和其它的狗紧密地联系到了一起。更使它吃惊的是,戴夫和索尔莱克斯的工作态度也改变了。它们都是新狗,完全被绳索改造着。它们干什么都是被动的,没有关心给它们。它们很机敏,很有活力,焦急地想把活儿干好。不管什么被耽搁了、被弄乱了,它们都要凶狠地发火。它们存在的最高价值、它们生活的全部目地、以及它们所有的欢喜就是这一路上的苦役和幸劳。
     戴夫是拉雪橇并掌舵的狗,巴克在它的前面,再前面是索尔莱克斯,其余的狗都在更前面。纵队的最前是队长,斯佩茨占着这个位置。
     巴克一直希望站在戴夫和索尔莱克斯之间,以便可以接到指令,它是一只善于学习的狗。别的狗也同样,也是很善于教的教师。它们从不容许巴克走错路,总是用它们锐利的牙来教训它。戴夫很聪明、很公平,它从不无缘无辜地咬巴克。当巴克站在那里需要被咬一口时,戴夫就从不失败地来咬上它一口。而当费兰克斯的鞭子把巴克打回来,它就会发现改正自己的动作方式比报复戴夫更合算。
     有一次,在一个什么建筑物都没有的停车点里,巴克缠缠绕绕地在道路上转来转去,因而耽误了出发。使它大为吃惊的是,戴夫和索尔莱克斯双双向它猛冲了过来,恶意地要咬它。结果它们把一切弄的更糟。从此,巴克就非常小心地保持着路线,那天它再也没有犯过错。它把它的那份活儿把握的那么好,以至于队友们再也不对它吹毛求疵地找错了。费兰克斯的鞭子也不那么经常地抽了,更有甚者,他还很赞赏地抬起巴克的四只脚仔仔细细地检查了一番。
     那天到卡农的路非常难走。先是穿过了牧羊场,接着绕过了标距站和木材场,又跨过了多条冰河、几个数百英尺高的雪堆,在翻过了矗立在咸水、淡水之间、严俊地保卫着凄残孤独的北方、那个巨大的叫切利的分水岭后。他们就一路愉快地下到了连绵不断的、曾是火山喷火口的湖泊区。那天晚上很晚了才好不容易到达贝涅特湖边。那里成千上万的寻金人正在建造小木船,好用来对付春天里就要断开的冰。巴克在雪堆里精疲力尽地挖了个洞,好像刚刚躺了进去,却马上又在冰天雪地的黑暗中被早早地唤醒,和狗友们又被套上了拉雪橇的绳索。
     那天他们跑了四十英里,道路都被雪填满了。第二天,以及接下来的许多天,他们一次又一次地划开路上的积雪卖力地向前奔跑。跑完规定路程的时间一次比一次少。按照常规,波罗特一直跑在队伍的前面,用他那双人工编织的靴子在前面踩着雪,以使狗队能较容易地跟着走。费兰克斯掌握驾驶杆,保持着雪橇的平衡。有时,他们两个交换着干活,可这种时候不多。波罗特干活性子急,但他对冰的知识却使他很是自豪。这种知识是不可缺少的,因为有些冰非常薄,而那些水在流动的地方根本就没有冰。
     一天又一天,没完没了地,巴克套在挽绳里苦干着。它们总是刺破黑暗,走在营地第一末灰色的晨光下。能看到它们隐没在曲曲折折的路上,留下了一串串新踩出的脚印。它们也总是天黑以后才回到营地,吃完它们的那份鱼,萎缩在雪里睡觉。巴克吃起东西来狼吞虎咽,一磅半重、被太阳晒干了的鲑鱼干是它每天的定量。可这点定量对它来说就和没吃一样,它从来都吃不饱,一直都遭受着饥饿的痛苦。可是其他的狗,一来体重轻,二来一直都是生活在这种环境里,所以即便是只吃一磅鱼也能过个好光景了。
     巴克很快改掉了挑三检四的毛病,这毛病是它在过去的生活里养成的。它发现它的队友们个个都有好胃口,个个都是美味的品尝者。它们先吃完了自己的那份,就过来抢夺它还没吃完的份额。这里没有东西可以捍卫这份份额,等它击退了这边的,那份剩鱼早被那边的队友咽到肚子里去了。为了补救,它从此就和它们吃得一样快,于是就有一种那么巨大的饥饿感压迫着它。但它却没有去吃那不属于它的东西,它观察着,研究着。
     它看见新狗派克,一个聪明的装病者和窃贼,在波罗特转身时狡猾地偷走了一片熏肉。于是第二天起,巴克也这么干,还加倍地干,它偷走了整快的肉。这可引起了轩然大波,可它并没有被怀疑。到是塔布,一条笨拙的、盲目的狗老是被抓住,为巴克的错误举动而受惩罚。
     第一次的偷窃表明:巴克在这北方的、有敌意的环境中仍然活着,这证明了它的适应性,这种适应性最大限度地调正着它的能力,以适应这种变化着的环境。缺少这种适应性将意昧着快速和可怕的死亡。这也进一步表明了:它那生来就有的、自然的、本质上的道义,那种徒有虚名但却妨碍事情的东西,在残酷的生存斗争中正一点一点地消失。这东西在南方,在爱和友谊的法律下,要赢得别人的好感和尊敬是足够了。但是在这里,在北方,在大绑和狗牙的法律下,不管是谁,要是把这些东西也当回事,那它就是个傻瓜。就它目前所观察到的,再那样去做,它就不能生存,更谈不上成功。
巴克没有理由把这些说出来。它只是要适应,这就够了。在无意识中,它适当地调整着自己,来适应这种新的生活方式。在它过去所有的日子里,不管情况是多么的紧急和不利,它从不在战斗中逃跑。但是穿红毛线衣男子的大棒给了它一个更基本、更原始的信号。
     说起文明和教化,就要说到法官磨房主马鞭的保护。那时,它能为了道德的因素去献身。可是现在,它已经不文明了,这能从它逃离道德因素的能力上得到证明。但这却挽救了它的生命,在这严寒的北方,从文明那里它得不到丝毫快乐,它的一切作为都只是为了它那吵闹和叫唤的胃。它没有公开去抢什么,而是秘密地、狡猾地去偷,这都是出于对大棒和狗牙的尊敬。一句话,它能做的它都做了,因为这样做要比不这样做容易生存得多。
它发展得(或者说堕落得)很快。它的肌肉变得像铁一样地坚硬。对一般的痛苦,它都能表现出无情。这样,它不仅获得了内部的、同时也获得了外部的经济利益。它能吃下任何能吃的东西,不管这东西有多么讨厌和恶心,也不管有多么难消化。只要它吃下这东西,它的胃液就能从这种东西中抽出最后的营养物来,哪怕是一分子、一粒子;而它的血液也就能把这些营养物输送到它身体最边远的地方,去建造一套最顽固、最凶恶、最强壮、最勇敢得体魄。它的目光、嗅觉变得异常地灵敏,它的听力发展得如此敏感,以至于在睡梦中都能听到最轻微、最模糊的声音,都能预报出这声音是和平的还是危险的。它学会了用嘴叼走聚集在它脚下的冰快;当它干渴但冰快上有一层厚厚的冰渣子时,它会用坚硬的前腿把冰渣子扒开。
它最显著的特点就是在晚上行进时,有能力嗅到风并提前预报;而当风不可避免地刮来时,不管风如何使人要憋住气,它都会在树下或岸边背风处给自己挖一个洞,舒舒服服地隐藏在那里。
它不仅只从经验里去学习,而且还从它的身体里去寻找潜能,那种过去曾经长期死去了的本能如今也活了过来。它是被一代代地驯养所传下来的狗,它模模糊糊地记得它年轻受驯养的时候。当时那些野狗们挤成了一堆、穿过原始森林、在奔跑途中杀死猎物,而它却没有任务要去学习撕呀、扯呀、像快速奔跑的狼那样猛咬呀等战斗技能,这些技能都是它的那些被它遗忘了的祖先们所采用的。这样的回忆使它加快了恢复到旧时生话的速度。那些已经深深地印在它遗传基因里的、旧式的诡计现在都成了它的诡计了,它们不费吹灰之力就又回到了它的身上,就仿佛这些东西一开始就都是它的似的。
     在这寒冷的夜晚,它抬头仰望星空,长时间狼一样地嗥叫。这种嗥叫和它那些早已经死了、变成灰烬了的祖先们的一样。祖先们也仰望星空、也嗥叫,这种嗥叫就世世代代传了下来,传到了它的身上。它嗥叫的韵律就是祖先们的韵律。这种表达悲哀和灾难的韵律,这种它们遗传下来的东西就意昧着沉默、寒冷和黑暗。
     就这样,作为一种傀儡生活的象征,古老的祖先们的歌曲像大浪一样汹涌而来,涌到了它的身上,于是它也有了自己的歌。它来到了这里,因为人们在这北方发现了一种黄色的金属,还因为作为看护法官磨房主花园的助手,曼纽尔的工资满足不了他以及妻儿老小各方面的开支。于是它就来到了这里。


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