驴友结伴进山迷路，历经重重困难终得救，但被饿出了心理阴影

"This out of all will remain— They have lived and have tossed: So much of the game will be gain, Though the gold of the dice has been lost.”

“只有这终会保留——他们历经磨难和困苦：这游戏中的经历都将是收获，尽管赌博的本钱已丢。”

THEY limped painfully down the bank, and once the foremost of the two men staggered among the rough-strewn rocks. They were tired and weak, and their faces had the drawn expression of patience which comes of hardship long endured. They were heavily burdened with blanket packs which were strapped to their shoulders. Head-straps, passing across the forehead, helped support these packs. Each man carried a rifle. They walked in a stooped posture, the shoulders well forward, the head still farther forward, the eyes bent upon the ground.

他们两个人一瘸一拐，费力地走下河沿，走在前面的那个人一度在乱石中打了个趔趄。他们又累又虚弱，脸上流露出憔悴而又坚毅的表情，这是长期经受苦难的结果。他们的肩上捆着毛毯裹成的沉重包袱。勒在额前的皮带帮忙撑着这些包袱。每人都扛着一支来复枪。他们弯腰前行，肩膀前倾，脑袋更加前倾，眼睛专注地盯着地面。

"I wish we had just about two of them cartridges that's layin' in that cache of ourn," said the second man.

“我真希望我们藏在那个隐秘处的子弹有两三发在手边就好了。”走在后面的人说道。

His voice was utterly and drearily expressionless. He spoke without enthusiasm; and the first man, limping into the milky stream that foamed over the rocks, vouchsafed no reply.

他的声音阴沉沉的，毫无感情。他毫无兴致地说着；走在前面的人一瘸一拐地走向白茫茫的小溪，没有回应，溪水流过岩石，激起片片白沫。

The other man followed at his heels. They did not remove their foot-gear, though the water was icy cold—so cold that their ankles ached and their feet went numb. In places the water dashed against their knees, and both men staggered for footing.

另一人紧跟其后。他们没有脱去鞋袜，然而河水冰冷——冻得他们脚腕发痛，双脚麻木。在有些地方，溪水冲到他们的膝盖时，他们两个人都摇摇晃晃，很难站稳。

The man who followed slipped on a smooth boulder, nearly fell, but recovered himself with a violent effort, at the same time uttering a sharp exclamation of pain. He seemed faint and dizzy and put out his free hand while he reeled, as though seeking support against the air. When he had steadied himself he stepped forward, but reeled again and nearly fell. Then he stood still and looked at the other man, who had never turned his head.

跟过来的这个人在一个光滑的大石头上滑了一下，差点摔倒，但他狠命站住了，同时发出了一声痛苦的尖叫。他看上去头晕目眩，一边摇晃，一边伸出那只空着的手，仿佛想从空气中寻找支撑。当他终于站定后，又向前走去，但是又晃了一下，险些跌倒。于是他一动不动地站着，看着那个头都不回的人。

The man stood still for fully a minute, as though debating with himself. Then he called out:

他足足站了一分钟，好像在和自己做着斗争。然后他叫喊起来：

"I say, Bill, I've sprained my ankle.”

“我说，比尔，我扭伤脚腕了。”

Bill staggered on through the milky water. He did not look around. The man watched him go, and though his face was expressionless as ever, his eyes were like the eyes of a wounded deer.

比尔在白茫茫的溪水中摇摇晃晃地前行。他没有转过头来看。后面的这个人看着比尔前行，尽管他像往常一样面无表情，但是他的眼睛流露出如受伤的鹿一般的神情。

The other man limped up the farther bank and continued straight on without looking back. The man in the stream watched him. His lips trembled a little, so that the rough thatch of brown hair which covered them was visibly agitated. His tongue even strayed out to moisten them.

比尔一瘸一拐地走上了对岸，仍头也不回地径直向前走。站在小溪里的这个人看着他。他的嘴唇微微抖动了一下，那撮遮住嘴巴的浓密而粗糙的棕色胡子也跟着很明显地抖动起来。他还伸出舌头舔了舔嘴唇。

"Bill!" he cried out.

“比尔！”他大声叫喊着。

It was the pleading cry of a strong man in distress, but Bill's head did not turn. The man watched him go, limping grotesquely and lurching forward with stammering gait up the slow slope toward the soft sky-line of the low-lying hill. He watched him go till he passed over the crest and disappeared. Then he turned his gaze and slowly took in the circle of the world that remained to him now that Bill was gone.

这是一个坚强的人在痛苦中的恳切呼唤，但是比尔仍然没有回头。这个人看着比尔古怪地一瘸一拐着向前走，摇摇晃晃地慢慢登上一个缓坡，然后朝着低矮的小山上那隐隐约约的地平线走去。他一直看着他走过山顶，消失得无影无踪。他这才将目光移开，慢慢望向比尔消失后所留下的一片世界。

Near the horizon the sun was smouldering dimly, almost obscured by formless mists and vapors, which gave an impression of mass and density without outline or tangibility. The man pulled out his watch, the while resting his weight on one leg. It was four o'clock, and as the season was near the last of July or first of August,—he did not know the precise date within a week or two,—he knew that the sun roughly marked the northwest. He looked to the south and knew that somewhere beyond those bleak hills lay the Great Bear Lake; also, he knew that in that direction the Arctic Circle cut its forbidding way across the Canadian Barrens. This stream in which he stood was a feeder to the Coppermine River, which in turn flowed north and emptied into Coronation Gulf and the Arctic Ocean. He had never been there, but he had seen it, once, on a Hudson Bay Company chart.

靠近地平线的地方，太阳在微弱地燃烧着，几乎被无形的雾霭和水汽笼罩住，给人一种没有边际、无法捉摸的庞大而厚重的印象。这个人掏出手表，把重心放在一条腿上站着。此时是四点钟，但是在这种七月底或八月初的季节里——这一两个星期他也无法弄清楚具体的日期了——他知道太阳大致处于西北方向。他朝南边看去，知道那些荒凉的小山后面就是大熊湖；他也知道在那个方向，北极圈的禁区界线穿过了加拿大的瘠地冻原地带。他站立的这条小溪是科珀曼河的一条支流。科珀曼河北上先流经科罗内申湾，然后汇入北冰洋。他从未去过那个地方，但是他曾在哈得孙湾公司的地图上见过它。

Again his gaze completed the circle of the world about him. It was not a heartening spectacle. Everywhere was soft sky-line. The hills were all low-lying. There were no trees, no shrubs, no grasses—naught but a tremendous and terrible desolation that sent fear swiftly dawning into his eyes.

他又审视了一遍他所置身的这一片世界。这不是令人振奋的景象。处处可见隐约的地平线。所有的小山都很低矮。没有树，没有灌木丛，没有草坪——什么都没有，唯有巨大而可怕的荒凉。这一切立刻使他的双眼流露出惊恐的神色。

"Bill!" he whispered, once and twice; "Bill!"

“比尔！”　他轻轻地叫着，一声又一声地叫着，“比尔！”

He cowered in the midst of the milky water, as though the vastness were pressing in upon him with overwhelming force, brutally crushing him with its complacent awfulness. He began to shake as with an ague-fit, till the gun fell from his hand with a splash. This served to rouse him. He fought with his fear and pulled himself together, groping in the water and recovering the weapon. He hitched his pack farther over on his left shoulder, so as to take a portion of its weight from off the injured ankle. Then he proceeded, slowly and carefully, wincing with pain, to the bank.

他蜷缩在白茫茫的小溪中，仿佛这种无边的巨大正在以一种不可抗拒的力量挤压着他，用其得意的威严残酷地击垮他。他开始像疟疾发作一样一阵颤抖，直到枪从手中滑落，溅起一片水花。这正好惊醒了他。他克服了恐惧，恢复了镇定，在水中摸索着找到了枪。他将包袱向左肩挪了挪，以减轻受伤脚腕的一部分负担。然后他缓慢而谨慎地继续走向河岸，因为疼痛而显得畏畏缩缩。

He did not stop. With a desperation that was madness, unmindful of the pain, he hurried up the slope to the crest of the hill over which his comrade had disappeared—more grotesque and comical by far than that limping, jerking comrade. But at the crest he saw a shallow valley, empty of life. He fought with his fear again, overcame it, hitched the pack still farther over on his left shoulder, and lurched on down the slope.

他没有停下。他发疯一般拼着命，不顾疼痛，沿着斜坡匆匆登上他同伴刚刚消失的山顶——样子比他一瘸一拐的古怪同伴更加怪异可笑。但是在山顶，他看到了一个毫无生气的浅谷。他再次与恐惧斗争，并克服了它，然后把包袱往左肩又挪了一下，蹒跚着走下斜坡。

The bottom of the valley was soggy with water, which the thick moss held, spongelike, close to the surface. This water squirted out from under his feet at every step, and each time he lifted a foot the action culminated in a sucking sound as the wet moss reluctantly released its grip. He picked his way from muskeg to muskeg, and followed the other man's footsteps along and across the rocky ledges which thrust like islets through the sea of moss.

谷底一片潮湿，厚厚的苔藓像海绵一样紧紧贴着潮湿的地面。每走一步，水就从他的脚下喷溅出来。每次他抬起一只脚，苔藓就会发出吮吸声，仿佛湿润的苔藓不愿意放开他一样。他小心翼翼地穿过一片又一片的沼泽地，顺着比尔的脚印往前走，跨过大片苔藓里如小岛般突起的岩石。

Though alone, he was not lost. Farther on he knew he would come to where dead spruce and fir, very small and weazened, bordered the shore of a little lake, the TITCHIN-NICHILIE, in the tongue of the country, the "land of little sticks." And into that lake flowed a small stream, the water of which was not milky. There was rush-grass on that stream—this he remembered well—but no timber, and he would follow it till its first trickle ceased at a divide. He would cross this divide to the first trickle of another stream, flowing to the west, which he would follow until it emptied into the river Dease, and here he would find a cache under an upturned canoe and piled over with many rocks. And in this cache would be ammunition for his empty gun, fish-hooks and lines, a small net—all the utilities for the killing and snaring of food. Also, he would find flour,—not much,—a piece of bacon, and some beans.

尽管他只身一人，但是他没有迷路。他知道，再往前走一点就会来到一个名叫”提青尼其立“的小湖，湖边是细小而枯萎的云杉与冷杉，当地人称那儿为"小棍之地"。一条小溪汇入这片湖里，溪水并不是白茫茫的。溪水中有灯芯草——这点他记得很清楚——但是没有浮木，他将沿着这条小溪一直走，直到其源头的分水岭处。他将跨过分水岭，走到另一条向西流的小溪的源头，再沿着这条小溪走到其注入迪斯河的地方。在那里，他会在翻过来的独木舟下面找到一个堆满石头的隐秘处。在这个隐秘处，有他的空枪所需的弹药、钓鱼钩、钓鱼线和一张小鱼网——所有捕猎食物的用具。此外，他还会找到面粉——不会太多——一块熏肉，还有一些豆子。

Bill would be waiting for him there, and they would paddle away south down the Dease to the Great Bear Lake. And south across the lake they would go, ever south, till they gained the Mackenzie. And south, still south, they would go, while the winter raced vainly after them, and the ice formed in the eddies, and the days grew chill and crisp, south to some warm Hudson Bay Company post, where timber grew tall and generous and there was grub without end.

比尔会在那里等他，然后他们将一起沿着迪斯河划船南下到大熊湖。他们会去大熊湖的南边，并一直朝南，直到到达马更些河。朝南，他们会一直向南走，这样冬天就追不上他们的脚步。即使湍流结冰，天气日益寒冷而干燥，他们也会朝南一直走到温暖的哈得孙湾公司的贸易站。那里有茂盛的参天大树，有取之不尽的食物。

These were the thoughts of the man as he strove onward. But hard as he strove with his body, he strove equally hard with his mind, trying to think that Bill had not deserted him, that Bill would surely wait for him at the cache. He was compelled to think this thought, or else there would not be any use to strive, and he would have lain down and died. And as the dim ball of the sun sank slowly into the northwest he covered every inch—and many times—of his and Bill's flight south before the downcoming winter. And he conned the grub of the cache and the grub of the Hudson Bay Company post over and over again. He had not eaten for two days; for a far longer time he had not had all he wanted to eat. Often he stooped and picked pale muskeg berries, put them into his mouth, and chewed and swallowed them. A muskeg berry is a bit of seed enclosed in a bit of water. In the mouth the water melts away and the seed chews sharp and bitter. The man knew there was no nourishment in the berries, but he chewed them patiently with a hope greater than knowledge and defying experience.

这个人边挣扎向前，边这样想着。但正如他的身体在艰难前行一般，他脑子也同样在挣扎着，努力想着比尔没有抛弃他，比尔一定会在那个隐秘处等他。他不得不这样想，不然他就用不着这么拼命，早就躺下来一命呜呼了。随着光线暗淡的、球形一样的太阳在西北方下沉，他反复多次地回想着冬天之前，他和比尔南方之行的每一寸路。他反复地想着隐秘处和哈得孙湾公司的贸易站的食物。他已经两天没有进食了；而至于自己想吃的食物，就更久没有吃到了。经常，他猫着腰在沼泽地上捡一些灰白色的沼地浆果，把它们塞到嘴里，嚼几下就吞进肚里。这种浆果只是一小粒带点浆汁的种子。浆汁入口即化，种子嚼起来的味道很冲，很苦。他知道这种浆果没有营养，但他心中怀有强烈的求生愿望，这愿望使他不顾常识和经验，耐心地咀嚼着浆果。

At nine o'clock he stubbed his toe on a rocky ledge, and from sheer weariness and weakness staggered and fell. He lay for some time, without movement, on his side. Then he slipped out of the pack-straps and clumsily dragged himself into a sitting posture. It was not yet dark, and in the lingering twilight he groped about among the rocks for shreds of dry moss. When he had gathered a heap he built a fire,—a smouldering, smudgy fire,—and put a tin pot of water on to boil.

九点钟时，他的脚趾踢到了一块突起的岩石，加上他的身体极度疲劳和虚弱，他踉跄着跌倒了。他一动不动，侧着身体躺了一会。然后，他卸下系在身上的包袱，笨拙地拖着自己坐了起来。天还没有完全黑，借着流连的暮色，他摸索着寻找泥岩间的干苔藓片。等找到一堆（干苔藓）后，他生起了火——缓慢燃烧、没有火苗却冒着浓烟的火——他还在火上放了一马口铁罐的水烧着。

He unwrapped his pack and the first thing he did was to count his matches. There were sixty-seven. He counted them three times to make sure. He divided them into several portions, wrapping them in oil paper, disposing of one bunch in his empty tobacco pouch, of another bunch in the inside band of his battered hat, of a third bunch under his shirt on the chest. This accomplished, a panic came upon him, and he unwrapped them all and counted them again. There were still sixty-seven.

他解开包袱后的第一件事就是数他的火柴。总共是六十七根。他一连数了三遍，以确保准确无误。他将火柴分成了几份，用油纸包起来，将一份放进他的空烟袋中，一份放进他磨损了的帽沿中，还有一份放在衬衫里贴着胸口的地方。做完这一切后，他突然感到恐慌，于是又打开所有的油纸包，数了一遍火柴。还是六十七根。

He dried his wet foot-gear by the fire. The moccasins were in soggy shreds. The blanket socks were worn through in places, and his feet were raw and bleeding. His ankle was throbbing, and he gave it an examination. It had swollen to the size of his knee. He tore a long strip from one of his two blankets and bound the ankle tightly. He tore other strips and bound them about his feet to serve for both moccasins and socks. Then he drank the pot of water, steaming hot, wound his watch, and crawled between his blankets.

他将潮湿的鞋袜放在火边烘干。鹿皮鞋已经成了湿透的破布条。毡袜磨出了很多洞，他的脚也擦破了皮，流着血。脚腕也阵阵抽痛着，于是他仔细查看了一下。脚腕肿胀得和膝盖差不多粗了。他从两条毯子中的一条上撕下一根带子，死死绑住脚腕。他又撕下一些带子裹住脚，以代替鹿皮鞋和短袜。然后他喝下那壶热气腾腾的水，上好手表的发条，爬进两条毯子之间。

He slept like a dead man. The brief darkness around midnight came and went. The sun arose in the northeast—at least the day dawned in that quarter, for the sun was hidden by gray clouds.

他睡得像个死人一样。午夜短暂的黑暗来了又走。太阳从东北方升起——至少那里露出了些曙光，因为太阳被乌云遮住了。

At six o'clock he awoke, quietly lying on his back. He gazed straight up into the gray sky and knew that he was hungry. As he rolled over on his elbow he was startled by a loud snort, and saw a bull caribou regarding him with alert curiosity. The animal was not mere than fifty feet away, and instantly into the man's mind leaped the vision and the savor of a caribou steak sizzling and frying over a fire. Mechanically he reached for the empty gun, drew a bead, and pulled the trigger. The bull snorted and leaped away, his hoofs rattling and clattering as he fled across the ledges.

六点钟他醒了，静静地仰面躺着。他直直地盯着灰色的天空，知道自己饿了。当他撑着胳膊肘翻身时，一声大大的喘息惊动了他。他看到一头雄驯鹿正警惕而又好奇地注视着自己。这个动物距离他不过五十英尺远，他的脑海里立刻跳出鹿肉排在火上烤得咝咝作响的画面，还想到鹿肉的滋味。他机械地摸到没有弹药的枪，瞄准，扣下扳机。雄驯鹿哼哼着跑开了，蹄子奔过泥岩时发出嘚嘚的撞击声。

The man cursed and flung the empty gun from him. He groaned aloud as he started to drag himself to his feet. It was a slow and arduous task.

这个人咒骂着，扔掉空枪。他一边试着拖着身子站起来，一边大声地呻吟着。这是件既缓慢又费力的事情。

His joints were like rusty hinges. They worked harshly in their sockets, with much friction, and each bending or unbending was accomplished only through a sheer exertion of will. When he finally gained his feet, another minute or so was consumed in straightening up, so that he could stand erect as a man should stand.

他的关节就像生锈的铰链。关节在骨臼里艰难地运作着，难以灵活自如，一屈一伸都要完全凭借意志力才能办到。等他终于站住时，他又花了大约一分钟直起腰来，让自己能像人一样挺直地站着。

He crawled up a small knoll and surveyed the prospect. There were no trees, no bushes, nothing but a gray sea of moss scarcely diversified by gray rocks, gray lakelets, and gray streamlets. The sky was gray. There was no sun nor hint of sun. He had no idea of north, and he had forgotten the way he had come to this spot the night before. But he was not lost. He knew that. Soon he would come to the land of the little sticks. He felt that it lay off to the left somewhere, not far—possibly just over the next low hill.

他爬上一座小山，查看了一下前方的情况。没有树，没有灌木丛，什么都没有，只有满地灰色的苔藓，地上零星散布着一些灰色的泥岩，还有几个灰色的小湖和几条灰色的小溪。天空灰蒙蒙的。看不到太阳，也看不到太阳的影子。他不知道哪里是北方，也忘记了昨晚是走哪条路来这里的。但是他并没有迷路。他清楚这一点。他很快就会到达那片小棍之地。他感觉它就在靠左的某个地方，不远了——可能越过下一座小山就到了。

He went back to put his pack into shape for travelling. He assured himself of the existence of his three separate parcels of matches, though he did not stop to count them. But he did linger, debating, over a squat moose-hide sack. It was not large. He could hide it under his two hands. He knew that it weighed fifteen pounds,—as much as all the rest of the pack,—and it worried him. He finally set it to one side and proceeded to roll the pack. He paused to gaze at the squat moose-hide sack. He picked it up hastily with a defiant glance about him, as though the desolation were trying to rob him of it; and when he rose to his feet to stagger on into the day, it was included in the pack on his back.

他回去整理好包袱，准备前行了。他确认了一遍那三包火柴都还在，不过并没有停下来去数。但他还是犹豫了一下，想着那个扁而厚实的鹿皮袋。它不算大。他用双手就可以将它遮盖起来。他知道袋子重十五磅——几乎和包袱里的其他东西一样重——因此他很犯难。最终他将袋子放在了一边，开始卷包袱。过了一会，他又停下来，盯着这个厚实的鹿皮袋。很快他捡起袋子，恶狠狠地看了周围一圈，仿佛这片荒凉正试图抢走袋子似的；他将袋子装入背上的包袱里，才站起身，摇摇晃晃地开始了一天的行程。

He bore away to the left, stopping now and again to eat muskeg berries. His ankle had stiffened, his limp was more pronounced, but the pain of it was as nothing compared with the pain of his stomach. The hunger pangs were sharp. They gnawed and gnawed until he could not keep his mind steady on the course he must pursue to gain the land of little sticks. The muskeg berries did not allay this gnawing, while they made his tongue and the roof of his mouth sore with their irritating bite.

他转向左边走去，时不时停下来吃点浆果。他的脚腕已经僵硬，走起路来也就更显得一瘸一拐的，但是这种痛苦比起他的饥饿之苦算不上什么。这种饥饿之苦异常强烈。饥饿之苦一直折磨着他，令他无法专注于去走那条通往小棍之地的必经之路。沼地浆果并没有缓解这种折磨，反而让他的舌头和上腭饱受刺激，火辣辣地疼。

He came upon a valley where rock ptarmigan rose on whirring wings from the ledges and muskegs. Ker—ker—ker was the cry they made. He threw stones at them, but could not hit them. He placed his pack on the ground and stalked them as a cat stalks a sparrow. The sharp rocks cut through his pants' legs till his knees left a trail of blood; but the hurt was lost in the hurt of his hunger. He squirmed over the wet moss, saturating his clothes and chilling his body; but he was not aware of it, so great was his fever for food. And always the ptarmigan rose, whirring, before him, till their ker—ker—ker became a mock to him, and he cursed them and cried aloud at them with their own cry.

他来到一个山谷，许多石雷鸟扑打着翅膀从泥岩和沼泽地上惊起。它们发出阵阵“咯——咯——咯”的叫声。他向它们掷石头，但是一只也没有击中。他把包袱放在地上，像猫抓麻雀一样蹑手蹑脚地朝石雷鸟走去。锋利的石头刺破了他的裤腿，膝盖流出的血在地面上形成一道血痕；但是饥饿之苦让他忽略了这种疼痛。他在潮湿的苔藓上慢慢爬着，衣服湿透了，身体冻得冰凉；但是这些他都没有意识到，因为他极度地渴望吃东西。石雷鸟时不时地在他面前飞起，盘旋，到后来它们发出的“咯——咯——咯”的叫声在他看来简直变成了一种嘲笑。他咒骂着它们，大声吼着，这声音和石雷鸟的叫声混成一片。

Once he crawled upon one that must have been asleep. He did not see it till it shot up in his face from its rocky nook. He made a clutch as startled as was the rise of the ptarmigan, and there remained in his hand three tail-feathers. As he watched its flight he hated it, as though it had done him some terrible wrong. Then he returned and shouldered his pack.

他一度爬到一只石雷鸟旁边，而这只石雷鸟很可能是睡着了。开始他并没有看见这只鸟，直到它从岩石的隐秘处飞起，直冲向他的脸。在这只鸟受惊飞起的同时，他也惊慌地伸手一抓，手里只抓住了它三根尾羽。当他看着鸟飞走时，他顿生恨意，仿佛这鸟做了很对不起他的事，令他受到了极大的委屈。然后他回去背起包袱。

As the day wore along he came into valleys or swales where game was more plentiful. A band of caribou passed by, twenty and odd animals, tantalizingly within rifle range. He felt a wild desire to run after them, a certitude that he could run them down. A black fox came toward him, carrying a ptarmigan in his mouth. The man shouted. It was a fearful cry, but the fox, leaping away in fright, did not drop the ptarmigan.

这一天就快要过去了，他来到了猎物较多的山谷，或者说沼泽地带。一群驯鹿走了过来，大约有二十多头，就在来复枪可以射中的范围内，相当诱人。他有种强烈的欲望去追逐它们，也相信自己一定能追到。一只黑色的狐狸叼着一只石雷鸟朝他走了过来。他大叫一声。这是一声令人惧怕的叫喊，狐狸受到惊吓逃跑了，但是并没有丢下石雷鸟。

Late in the afternoon he followed a stream, milky with lime, which ran through sparse patches of rush-grass. Grasping these rushes firmly near the root, he pulled up what resembled a young onion-sprout no larger than a shingle-nail. It was tender, and his teeth sank into it with a crunch that promised deliciously of food. But its fibers were tough. It was composed of stringy filaments saturated with water, like the berries, and devoid of nourishment. He threw off his pack and went into the rush-grass on hands and knees, crunching and munching, like some bovine creature.

傍晚时，他顺着一条因夹杂着石灰而显得白茫茫的小溪行进，溪水正好流经几片稀稀拉拉的灯芯草草地。他用力抓住灯芯草的根部，拔起一种类似嫩洋葱芽的、像木瓦钉大小的东西。这东西很嫩，他深深一口咬下去，发出嘎吱嘎吱的声音，仿佛味道不错。但是它的纤维很硬。它是由一根根含有水分的纤维丝构成的，就像浆果一样，毫无营养。他扔下包袱，四肢伏在地上爬进灯芯草地里，像牛一样嘎吱嘎吱地猛吃着。

He was very weary and often wished to rest—to lie down and sleep; but he was continually driven on—not so much by his desire to gain the land of little sticks as by his hunger. He searched little ponds for frogs and dug up the earth with his nails for worms, though he knew in spite that neither frogs nor worms existed so far north.

他很疲倦，总想歇一下——躺下来睡个觉，但是他又不断地被驱使着前进——不是被到达小棍之地的欲望，而是被饥饿的感觉驱使着。他在小水坑里寻找青蛙，又用指甲刨土找虫子，虽然他知道，在这么北的地方是没有青蛙和小虫的。

He looked into every pool of water vainly, until, as the long twilight came on, he discovered a solitary fish, the size of a minnow, in such a pool. He plunged his arm in up to the shoulder, but it eluded him. He reached for it with both hands and stirred up the milky mud at the bottom. In his excitement he fell in, wetting himself to the waist. Then the water was too muddy to admit of his seeing the fish, and he was compelled to wait until the sediment had settled.

他仔细地查看每一个小水坑，但一无所获，直到漫漫暮色降临，他才在一个水坑里发现了仅有的一条鲦鱼大小的鱼。他将手臂伸进水中，一直到水快没过肩头，但是鱼还是逃跑了。他双手去抓鱼，搅起了水底混浊的泥浆。他太激动了，掉到了水里，半身湿透。当时水太浑浊了，他没有办法看清鱼，只好等着泥浆沉淀下来。

The pursuit was renewed, till the water was again muddied. But he could not wait.

他重新开始抓鱼，可是不一会水又浑浊了。但是他不能再等了。

He unstrapped the tin bucket and began to bale the pool. He baled wildly at first, splashing himself and flinging the water so short a distance that it ran back into the pool. He worked more carefully, striving to be cool, though his heart was pounding against his chest and his hands were trembling. At the end of half an hour the pool was nearly dry. Not a cupful of water remained. And there was no fish. He found a hidden crevice among the stones through which it had escaped to the adjoining and larger pool—a pool which he could not empty in a night and a day. Had he known of the crevice, he could have closed it with a rock at the beginning and the fish would have been his.

他解下马口铁桶，开始舀坑里的水。起初，他疯狂地舀着，溅得自己一身水。而水只被倒到很近的地方，所以又回流到坑中。于是他更加耐心地舀着，努力让自己冷静下来，尽管他的心在胸腔里跳得很快，双手一直颤抖。半小时后坑里的水差不多被舀干了，只剩下不到一杯水了。可是没有鱼。他发现了石头间的缝隙，鱼儿从这儿逃到了邻近更大的水坑——一个他一天一夜也无法舀干的水坑。如果早知道有这个缝隙，他一开始就会拿石头堵住，现在鱼儿就是他的了。

Thus he thought, and crumpled up and sank down upon the wet earth. At first he cried softly to himself, then he cried loudly to the pitiless desolation that ringed him around; and for a long time after he was shaken by great dry sobs.

他这样想着，瘫倒在了潮湿的地上。他先是轻声地哭着，后来竟对着四周无情的荒凉嚎啕大哭起来，再后来又颤抖着大声抽噎了很久。

He built a fire and warmed himself by drinking quarts of hot water, and made camp on a rocky ledge in the same fashion he had the night before. The last thing he did was to see that his matches were dry and to wind his watch. The blankets were wet and clammy. His ankle pulsed with pain. But he knew only that he was hungry, and through his restless sleep he dreamed of feasts and banquets and of food served and spread in all imaginable ways.

他生起一堆火，喝了些热水暖和身子，并打算像前一天晚上一样，在一块岩石上露宿。他最后还检查了一下他的火柴是否是干的，并给手表上了发条。毯子又湿又黏。他的脚腕疼痛地抽动着。但是他只知道他很饿，睡梦中也无法安眠，他梦到了各种宴会与酒席，以及以各种想得到的方式供应和摆放的食品。

He awoke chilled and sick. There was no sun. The gray of earth and sky had become deeper, more profound. A raw wind was blowing, and the first flurries of snow were whitening the hilltops. The air about him thickened and grew white while he made a fire and boiled more water. It was wet snow, half rain, and the flakes were large and soggy. At first they melted as soon as they came in contact with the earth, but ever more fell, covering the ground, putting out the fire, spoiling his supply of moss-fuel.

他醒了，感到又寒冷又难受。没有太阳。大地和天空变得越来越灰暗，越来越昏沉。寒风凛冽地刮着，初下的白雪染白了山顶。当他生起火，又煮了壶开水后，他周围的空气越来越浓，形成了白茫茫的一片。这是雨夹雪，一半是雨一半是雪，一片片雪花大而黏湿。刚开始，它们落地即化，但是随着更多雪花飘落，它们开始覆盖大地，熄灭了火堆，淋湿了作燃料用的苔藓。

This was a signal for him to strap on his pack and stumble onward, he knew not where. He was not concerned with the land of little sticks, nor with Bill and the cache under the upturned canoe by the river Dease. He was mastered by the verb "to eat." He was hunger-mad. He took no heed of the course he pursued, so long as that course led him through the swale bottoms. He felt his way through the wet snow to the watery muskeg berries, and went by feel as he pulled up the rush-grass by the roots. But it was tasteless stuff and did not satisfy. He found a weed that tasted sour and he ate all he could find of it, which was not much, for it was a creeping growth, easily hidden under the several inches of snow.

这说明他要背上包袱，继续跌跌撞撞地前行了，但是他不知道要去哪里。他不在乎小棍之地，也不在乎比尔和迪斯河旁翻过来的独木舟下的隐秘处了。他被“吃“这个词控制着。他快饿疯了。他顾不上留心自己走的是哪条路，只要能离开这片沼泽洼地就好。他摸索着走在雨雪地上，来到长着有水分的浆果的地方，他一边连根拔起灯芯草，一边凭感觉摸索着前进。但是灯芯草毫无味道，也无法填饱肚子。他发现了一种味道酸酸的野草，并吃下他能找到的所有这种草，不过并没有多少，因为这种草是蔓生植物，很容易被几英寸深的积雪覆盖。

He had no fire that night, nor hot water, and crawled under his blanket to sleep the broken hunger-sleep. The snow turned into a cold rain. He awakened many times to feel it falling on his upturned face. Day came—a gray day and no sun. It had ceased raining. The keenness of his hunger had departed. Sensibility, as far as concerned the yearning for food, had been exhausted. There was a dull, heavy ache in his stomach, but it did not bother him so much. He was more rational, and once more he was chiefly interested in the land of little sticks and the cache by the river Dease.

那天晚上他没有火堆，也没有热水，只能蜷缩在毯子下面睡，并时常饿醒。不久，雪变成了冰冷的雨。雨淋在他仰着的脸上，把他冻醒了很多次。天亮了——灰蒙蒙的天上仍见不到太阳。雨停了。他强烈的饥饿感也消失了。他已经没有想吃东西的感觉了。他的胃里有种隐隐作痛的感觉，但是他并不觉得特别难受。他更加清醒了，再一次只想着小棍之地和迪斯河旁的隐秘处。

He ripped the remnant of one of his blankets into strips and bound his bleeding feet. Also, he recinched the injured ankle and prepared himself for a day of travel. When he came to his pack, he paused long over the squat moose-hide sack, but in the end it went with him.

他将那条撕过的毯子剩下的部分撕成一根根带子，裹住正在流血的双脚。他再次裹紧脚腕，准备开始一天的行程。当他走到包袱那儿时，又挣扎了很久要不要带那个厚实的鹿皮袋，最终他还是带上了它。

The snow had melted under the rain, and only the hilltops showed white. The sun came out, and he succeeded in locating the points of the compass, though he knew now that he was lost. Perhaps, in his previous days' wanderings, he had edged away too far to the left. He now bore off to the right to counteract the possible deviation from his true course.

雪已经被雨水冲化了，只有山顶还白茫茫一片。太阳出来了，他能确定罗盘上的方位点了，虽然现在他知道自己已经迷路了。或许，在前些日子的游荡中，他一直向左走得太远了。现在他向右走，以消除可能的偏差，回到正确的路上。

Though the hunger pangs were no longer so exquisite, he realized that he was weak. He was compelled to pause for frequent rests, when he attacked the muskeg berries and rush-grass patches. His tongue felt dry and large, as though covered with a fine hairy growth, and it tasted bitter in his mouth. His heart gave him a great deal of trouble. When he had travelled a few minutes it would begin a remorseless thump, thump, thump, and then leap up and away in a painful flutter of beats that choked him and made him go faint and dizzy.

尽管饥饿之苦已不再那么剧烈，但是他意识到自己已经很虚弱了。当他摘沼地浆果，或拔几片灯芯草时，经常不得不停下来休息一下。他的舌头干涩而肿胀，就像被一层细细的毛状物包住了一样，嘴里感到苦涩。他的心脏给他带来不少麻烦。他走几分钟，心脏就怦、怦、怦猛烈地跳，紧接而来的是一种痛苦的、上下起伏的剧烈跳动，令他窒息、衰弱而眩晕。

In the middle of the day he found two minnows in a large pool. It was impossible to bale it, but he was calmer now and managed to catch them in his tin bucket. They were no longer than his little finger, but he was not particularly hungry. The dull ache in his stomach had been growing duller and fainter. It seemed almost that his stomach was dozing. He ate the fish raw, masticating with painstaking care, for the eating was an act of pure reason. While he had no desire to eat, he knew that he must eat to live.

中午的时候，他在一个大水坑里发现了两条鲦鱼。舀干水坑是不可能的，但是他现在清醒多了，想方设法用他的马口铁桶来抓住它们。它们只有他的小手指那么长，但是他现在不是特别饿了。胃里的隐痛已经变得越来越微弱，快要感觉不到了。他的胃几乎像是在休眠。他吃掉生鱼肉，全神贯注地用力咀嚼着，因为吃鱼纯粹只是出于理智了。他并不想吃，但是他知道，要活着他必须得吃。

In the evening he caught three more minnows, eating two and saving the third for breakfast. The sun had dried stray shreds of moss, and he was able to warm himself with hot water. He had not covered more than ten miles that day; and the next day, travelling whenever his heart permitted him, he covered no more than five miles. But his stomach did not give him the slightest uneasiness. It had gone to sleep. He was in a strange country, too, and the caribou were growing more plentiful, also the wolves. Often their yelps drifted across the desolation, and once he saw three of them slinking away before his path.

傍晚时，他又抓到了三条鲦鱼，吃掉两条，留下一条当早餐。太阳晒干了稀稀拉拉的几片苔藓，他能烧热水暖和自己了。那天他走的路不超过十英里；第二天，只要他的心脏允许，他就一直走，走的路程还没有五英里。但是他丝毫没有感觉到胃不舒服。它已经休眠了。他走到了一个陌生的地带，驯鹿和狼也越来越多。它们的嚎叫经常响彻整个荒原，有一次，他还看见三只狼在他前面出没。

Another night; and in the morning, being more rational, he untied the leather string that fastened the squat moose-hide sack. From its open mouth poured a yellow stream of coarse gold-dust and nuggets. He roughly divided the gold in halves, caching one half on a prominent ledge, wrapped in a piece of blanket, and returning the other half to the sack. He also began to use strips of the one remaining blanket for his feet. He still clung to his gun, for there were cartridges in that cache by the river Dease.

又过了一晚。到了早上，由于比较清醒，他解开系住厚实的鹿皮袋的皮绳。从鹿皮袋的开口处倒出一股金灿灿的、粗糙的金沙和金块。他将这些金子分成差不多的两半，一半用毯子裹起来藏在突起的岩石上，另一半装入袋子中。他也开始从剩下的一条毯子上撕下布条，来裹住他的双脚。他仍然拿着枪，因为在迪斯河旁的隐秘处有子弹。

This was a day of fog, and this day hunger awoke in him again. He was very weak and was afflicted with a giddiness which at times blinded him. It was no uncommon thing now for him to stumble and fall; and stumbling once, he fell squarely into a ptarmigan nest. There were four newly hatched chicks, a day old—little specks of pulsating life no more than a mouthful; and he ate them ravenously, thrusting them alive into his mouth and crunching them like egg-shells between his teeth. The mother ptarmigan beat about him with great outcry. He used his gun as a club with which to knock her over, but she dodged out of reach. He threw stones at her and with one chance shot broke a wing. Then she fluttered away, running, trailing the broken wing, with him in pursuit.

这一天雾蒙蒙的，他再次感到了饥饿。他很虚弱，感到眩晕，有时甚至晕得看不见东西。现在，跌倒对他来说已不是什么稀罕事了；有一次他还正好摔倒在石雷鸟窝上。四只刚孵出一天的小石雷鸟——生气勃勃的小不点加起来还不够吃一口；他贪婪地吃着，直接将活生生的鸟塞到嘴里，并嘎吱嘎吱地像是在嚼蛋壳似的嚼了起来。母石雷鸟围着他一边扑打一边急促地大叫。他拿枪当棍子来打母石雷鸟，但它都避开了。他向它扔石头，一次正好打伤了它的一只翅膀。于是它拖着受伤的翅膀飞走了，他继续追赶着。

The little chicks had no more than whetted his appetite. He hopped and bobbed clumsily along on his injured ankle, throwing stones and screaming hoarsely at times; at other times hopping and bobbing silently along, picking himself up grimly and patiently when he fell, or rubbing his eyes with his hand when the giddiness threatened to overpower him.

那些小石雷鸟只不过刚激起了他的胃口。他拖着受伤的脚腕，笨拙地一瘸一拐地跳着追赶，有时边向母石雷鸟扔石头边大声呵斥；有时会一直闷声不响，一瘸一拐地跳着朝前追，摔倒了就勇敢而耐心地爬起来，快要眩晕时，他就用手揉揉眼睛。

The chase led him across swampy ground in the bottom of the valley, and he came upon footprints in the soggy moss. They were not his own—he could see that. They must be Bill's. But he could not stop, for the mother ptarmigan was running on. He would catch her first, then he would return and investigate. He exhausted the mother ptarmigan; but he exhausted himself. She lay panting on her side. He lay panting on his side, a dozen feet away, unable to crawl to her. And as he recovered she recovered, fluttering out of reach as his hungry hand went out to her. The chase was resumed. Night settled down and she escaped. He stumbled from weakness and pitched head foremost on his face, cutting his cheek, his pack upon his back. He did not move for a long while; then he rolled over on his side, wound his watch, and lay there until morning.

他一直追到谷底的沼泽地，发现了潮湿的苔藓上的脚印。这些不是他的——他看得出来。这一定是比尔的脚印。但是他不能停下来，因为母石雷鸟还在继续飞。他要先抓住它，再回来仔细查看。母石雷鸟被追得筋疲力竭，他也累坏了。她侧歪在一边喘着气。他也歪在一边喘着气，离石雷鸟只有十来英尺远，但是没有力气爬过去。等他恢复力气后，石雷鸟也恢复了，当他将饥饿之手再次伸向它时，它又振翅飞到他够不到的地方。追逐又继续了。夜幕降临，母石雷鸟逃脱了。他很虚弱，绊了一跤，头向前栽倒在地上，划破了脸，包袱压在他的背上。很久他都一动不动；然后他翻身侧躺着，给手表上了发条，并在那儿一直躺到第二天早晨。

Another day of fog. Half of his last blanket had gone into foot-wrappings. He failed to pick up Bill's trail. It did not matter. His hunger was driving him too compellingly—only—only he wondered if Bill, too, were lost. By midday the irk of his pack became too oppressive. Again he divided the gold, this time merely spilling half of it on the ground. In the afternoon he threw the rest of it away, there remaining to him only the half-blanket, the tin bucket, and the rifle.

又是雾蒙蒙的一天。他剩下的那条毯子已经有一半被用来包脚了。他无法找到比尔的脚印了。这不重要。饥饿再次令他无法抗拒——可是——可是他还是想知道比尔是不是也迷路了。到中午时，沉重的包袱让他越来越难以忍受了。他又将金子分了分，这次只把一半倒在了地上。下午，他又将剩下的金子也扔掉了，只留下半条毯子、马口铁桶和来复枪。

An hallucination began to trouble him. He felt confident that one cartridge remained to him. It was in the chamber of the rifle and he had overlooked it. On the other hand, he knew all the time that the chamber was empty. But the hallucination persisted. He fought it off for hours, then threw his rifle open and was confronted with emptiness. The disappointment was as bitter as though he had really expected to find the cartridge.

他开始产生幻觉。他觉得肯定还有一粒子弹可以用。子弹就在枪膛里，只是他一直忘了。另一方面，他始终知道枪膛是空的。然而幻觉持续着。好几个小时，他都想击退这种幻觉，于是他干脆打开枪膛，看到的是空无一物。这种失望令他感到痛苦，仿佛他自己原本期待能找到子弹似的。

He plodded on for half an hour, when the hallucination arose again. Again he fought it, and still it persisted, till for very relief he opened his rifle to unconvince himself. At times his mind wandered farther afield, and he plodded on, a mere automaton, strange conceits and whimsicalities gnawing at his brain like worms. But these excursions out of the real were of brief duration, for ever the pangs of the hunger-bite called him back. He was jerked back abruptly once from such an excursion by a sight that caused him nearly to faint. He reeled and swayed, doddering like a drunken man to keep from falling. Before him stood a horse. A horse! He could not believe his eyes. A thick mist was in them, intershot with sparkling points of light. He rubbed his eyes savagely to clear his vision, and beheld, not a horse, but a great brown bear. The animal was studying him with bellicose curiosity.

他拖着沉重的步伐又走了半个小时，这时幻觉又出现了。他再次与幻觉展开斗争，但是它仍萦绕着他，为了摆脱幻觉，他再次打开枪膛以让自己不要相信。有时候，他的思绪会游荡得更远些。他一边像个机器人一样迈着沉重的步子，一边任由怪诞的念头和天马行空的狂想像虫子一样不断啮噬着他的大脑。但是这些非现实的思维旅行都是极短暂的，因为他不断地被饥饿之苦拉回现实。有一次，他突然从幻觉中惊醒过来，看到了几乎令他昏厥的东西。他像喝醉酒似的左右摇晃着以避免跌倒。他面前站着一匹马。一匹马！他简直不敢相信自己的眼睛。眼睛里有一层浓浓的雾，夹杂着星星点点的光。他使劲地揉揉眼睛使自己看清楚，原来看到的并不是马，而是一头棕色的大熊。这头熊正用挑衅的眼神好奇地打量着他。

The man had brought his gun halfway to his shoulder before he realized. He lowered it and drew his hunting-knife from its beaded sheath at his hip. Before him was meat and life. He ran his thumb along the edge of his knife. It was sharp. The point was sharp. He would fling himself upon the bear and kill it. But his heart began its warning thump, thump, thump. Then followed the wild upward leap and tattoo of flutters, the pressing as of an iron band about his forehead, the creeping of the dizziness into his brain.

他已经把枪快举到肩上了，才意识到枪里没有子弹。他放下枪，从屁股后的镶珠刀鞘里抽出他的猎刀。在他面前的是肉和生命。他用大拇指试了试刀刃。刀刃很锋利。刀尖也很锋利。他本来是想扑到熊身上，杀死它的。但是他的心脏又开始了警告性的怦、怦、怦的跳动。紧接而来的是心脏向上猛跳和一阵阵的搏动，额头上也像是被铁箍捆紧了似的，脑袋也渐渐感到眩晕。

His desperate courage was evicted by a great surge of fear. In his weakness, what if the animal attacked him? He drew himself up to his most imposing stature, gripping the knife and staring hard at the bear. The bear advanced clumsily a couple of steps, reared up, and gave vent to a tentative growl. If the man ran, he would run after him; but the man did not run. He was animated now with the courage of fear. He, too, growled, savagely, terribly, voicing the fear that is to life germane and that lies twisted about life's deepest roots.

他不顾一切的勇气被涌起的一阵恐惧驱散了。他很虚弱，如果这头熊攻击他，他该怎么办呢？他挺起身子，摆出最威风的姿势，同时紧握猎刀，死死地盯着这头熊。熊笨拙地向前走了几步，后腿直立起来，发出试探性的咆哮。如果这个人跑的话，它就会追；但是这个人并没有跑。现在，因恐惧而产生的勇气使他振作起来。他也凶狠可怕地咆哮起来，喊出了那种生死攸关的、与生命之根紧密相连的恐惧。

The bear edged away to one side, growling menacingly, himself appalled by this mysterious creature that appeared upright and unafraid. But the man did not move. He stood like a statue till the danger was past, when he yielded to a fit of trembling and sank down into the wet moss.

熊慢慢挪到一边，威胁似的咆哮着，似乎被这个挺得笔直、无所畏惧的神秘动物吓到了。但是这个人一动不动。他像个雕塑一样站着，直到危险结束，这时他才猛地一阵颤抖，瘫倒在潮湿的苔藓上。前半部分到此结束。

He pulled himself together and went on, afraid now in a new way. It was not the fear that he should die passively from lack of food, but that he should be destroyed violently before starvation had exhausted the last particle of the endeavor in him that made toward surviving. There were the wolves. Back and forth across the desolation drifted their howls, weaving the very air into a fabric of menace that was so tangible that he found himself, arms in the air, pressing it back from him as it might be the walls of a wind-blown tent.

他又振作起来，继续前行。现在他有了新的恐惧。他不是害怕被活活饿死，而是担心在饥饿耗掉自己最后一点求生的努力之前，自己就已经被凶残地杀死了。这儿有狼群。狼嗥声在整个荒原回荡，与空气交织成一张极具威胁性的网。这个网是如此真实，以至于他发现自己不自觉地举起了双手，把它向后推，好像这网是被风刮紧了的帐篷壁。

Now and again the wolves, in packs of two and three, crossed his path. But they sheered clear of him. They were not in sufficient numbers, and besides they were hunting the caribou, which did not battle, while this strange creature that walked erect might scratch and bite.

时不时就会有狼出没，它们三三两两地穿过他走的这条路。但是这些狼都避开他。它们的数量不多，而且它们要找的是不会搏斗的驯鹿，而这个直立行走的怪物却可能会又抓又咬的。

In the late afternoon he came upon scattered bones where the wolves had made a kill. The debris had been a caribou calf an hour before, squawking and running and very much alive. He contemplated the bones, clean-picked and polished, pink with the cell-life in them which had not yet died. Could it possibly be that he might be that ere the day was done! Such was life, eh? A vain and fleeting thing. It was only life that pained. There was no hurt in death. To die was to sleep. It meant cessation, rest. Then why was he not content to die?

傍晚时，他发现散在地上的骨头；狼肯定在这儿咬死过动物。这些残骸一个小时以前还是又叫又跑、非常活泼的小驯鹿。他盯着这些被啃得干净而发亮的骨头仔细看，看到骨头中未死的细胞仍泛着粉红色。天黑之前，他会不会也变成这样！这就是生命吗，嗯？一种虚无缥缈而又转瞬即逝的东西。只有活着，才会有痛苦。在死亡里，没有伤害。死就是睡觉。它意味着终结、安息。那么，他为什么不愿去死呢？

But he did not moralize long. He was squatting in the moss, a bone in his mouth, sucking at the shreds of life that still dyed it faintly pink. The sweet meaty taste, thin and elusive almost as a memory, maddened him. He closed his jaws on the bones and crunched. Sometimes it was the bone that broke, sometimes his teeth. Then he crushed the bones between rocks, pounded them to a pulp, and swallowed them. He pounded his fingers, too, in his haste, and yet found a moment in which to feel surprise at the fact that his fingers did not hurt much when caught under the descending rock.

不过他很快就不再想这些大道理了。他蹲在苔藓地上，嘴里衔着一根骨头，吸吮着那些使骨头依然泛红的残余生命组织。甜甜的肉香几乎像回忆一样模糊而无法捉摸，令他疯狂。他紧紧咬着骨头，嘎吱嘎吱地嚼。有时咬碎的是骨头，有时咬碎的是自己的牙。然后他用石块碾碎骨头，把骨头捣成酱，再吞下去。由于心急，他还砸到了自己的手指，但这一刻让他感到惊奇的是，手指在被下落的石头砸到时，自己竟不觉得疼。

Came frightful days of snow and rain. He did not know when he made camp, when he broke camp. He travelled in the night as much as in the day. He rested wherever he fell, crawled on whenever the dying life in him flickered up and burned less dimly. He, as a man, no longer strove. It was the life in him, unwilling to die, that drove him on. He did not suffer. His nerves had become blunted, numb, while his mind was filled with weird visions and delicious dreams.

随后几天都是可怕的雨雪天气。他不知道何时该露宿，何时该整装出发。他日夜兼程。在哪儿摔倒，他就在哪儿休息。只要奄奄一息的生命火花闪烁起来，开始微微燃烧，他就继续缓慢前行。他，作为一个普通人，已不再抗争了。是内在的生命逼着他前进，是它不愿意死。他不再感到痛苦。他的神经已经变得迟钝、麻木，但他的脑海里却充满了不可思议的幻想和美好的梦境。

But ever he sucked and chewed on the crushed bones of the caribou calf, the least remnants of which he had gathered up and carried with him. He crossed no more hills or divides, but automatically followed a large stream which flowed through a wide and shallow valley. He did not see this stream nor this valley. He saw nothing save visions. Soul and body walked or crawled side by side, yet apart, so slender was the thread that bound them.

但他还是吮吸并咀嚼着小驯鹿的碎骨头，这是他收集并随身携带的一点残余。他不再翻山越岭，而是机械地顺着一条大溪流而行，这条溪流流经一片宽广的浅谷。他没有看到溪流，也没有看到峡谷。除了幻象，他什么也没有看到。他没有看到溪流，也没有看到峡谷。除了幻象，他什么也没有看到。他的灵魂和躯体并肩向前走，向前爬，但是它们却是彼此分离的，联系它们的纽带已十分纤弱。

He awoke in his right mind, lying on his back on a rocky ledge. The sun was shining bright and warm. Afar off he heard the squawking of caribou calves. He was aware of vague memories of rain and wind and snow, but whether he had been beaten by the storm for two days or two weeks he did not know.

他醒来时，头脑清醒，仰卧在一块岩石上。太阳发出明亮而温暖的光芒。他听见远处小驯鹿的叫声。他依稀记得曾经有过冷雨、寒风和大雪，但是他到底被暴风雨吹打了两天还是两个星期，他已经记不得了。

For some time he lay without movement, the genial sunshine pouring upon him and saturating his miserable body with its warmth. A fine day, he thought. Perhaps he could manage to locate himself. By a painful effort he rolled over on his side. Below him flowed a wide and sluggish river. Its unfamiliarity puzzled him. Slowly he followed it with his eyes, winding in wide sweeps among the bleak, bare hills, bleaker and barer and lower-lying than any hills he had yet encountered. Slowly, deliberately, without excitement or more than the most casual interest, he followed the course of the strange stream toward the sky-line and saw it emptying into a bright and shining sea. He was still unexcited. Most unusual, he thought, a vision or a mirage—more likely a vision, a trick of his disordered mind. He was confirmed in this by sight of a ship lying at anchor in the midst of the shining sea. He closed his eyes for a while, then opened them. Strange how the vision persisted! Yet not strange. He knew there were no seas or ships in the heart of the barren lands, just as he had known there was no cartridge in the empty rifle.

他一动不动地躺了好一阵子。温暖的阳光洒在他身上，让那饱受磨难的身体沐浴在阳光的暖意中。是个好天气，他想。或许，他能够确定自己的位置。他吃力地翻过身来侧躺着。下面是一条缓缓流动的大河。这条河很陌生，让他困惑不已。他的目光缓缓地跟随着河流望去。只见它蜿蜒流过一段宽广的河道，河两岸的小山荒芜光秃，比以往见过的任何小山还要荒芜、光秃、低矮。他慢慢地、从容地顺着这条陌生的河流望向天边，没有激动之情，或者顶多是带着一种偶然的兴致。他看到河流汇入波光粼粼的大海。但他还是不激动。非常奇怪，他想，也许是幻象或是海市蜃楼——更有可能是幻象，是他错乱的神经捣的鬼。看到一艘船抛锚停泊在波光粼粼的大海中，他更相信这是幻象了。他闭了会眼睛，再睁开。奇怪的是，这种幻象竟依然存在！不过也不奇怪。他知道在这贫瘠土地的中心地带，是没有大海或者船只的，就像他知道他的空枪里没有子弹一样。

He heard a snuffle behind him—a half-choking gasp or cough. Very slowly, because of his exceeding weakness and stiffness, he rolled over on his other side. He could see nothing near at hand, but he waited patiently. Again came the snuffle and cough, and outlined between two jagged rocks not a score of feet away he made out the gray head of a wolf. The sharp ears were not pricked so sharply as he had seen them on other wolves; the eyes were bleared and bloodshot, the head seemed to droop limply and forlornly. The animal blinked continually in the sunshine. It seemed sick. As he looked, it snuffled and coughed again.

他听到身后一阵抽鼻子的声音——像是喘不出气或是咳嗽的声音。因为极度虚弱和僵硬，他非常缓慢地翻了个身，换到另一侧躺着了。他看不到四周有什么东西，但是他耐心地等待着。再一次传来抽鼻子的声音和咳嗽声，他模模糊糊地看到一只灰狼的头，就在离他不到二十英尺远，两块凹凸不平的岩石之间。那双尖耳朵并没有像他以前见过的其他狼的耳朵一样竖得笔直；它的眼睛暗淡无神、充满血丝，脑袋似乎无力而愁闷地耷着。这只动物在太阳光下不停地眨巴着眼睛。它像是病了。当他看它时，它又发出了吸鼻子和咳嗽的声音。

This, at least, was real, he thought, and turned on the other side so that he might see the reality of the world which had been veiled from him before by the vision. But the sea still shone in the distance and the ship was plainly discernible. Was it reality, after all? He closed his eyes for a long while and thought, and then it came to him. He had been making north by east, away from the Dease Divide and into the Coppermine Valley. This wide and sluggish river was the Coppermine. That shining sea was the Arctic Ocean. That ship was a whaler, strayed east, far east, from the mouth of the Mackenzie, and it was lying at anchor in Coronation Gulf. He remembered the Hudson Bay Company chart he had seen long ago, and it was all clear and reasonable to him.

他想，至少这还算是真的，于是转过身又换了一边侧躺着，以便能看清楚之前被幻象所蒙住的真实世界。但是远处的大海仍旧波光粼粼，那艘船依然清晰可见。莫非那是真的？他闭上眼睛，想了很久，终于想明白了。他一直往北偏东的方向走，离开了迪斯分水岭，来到了科珀曼峡谷。这条宽阔而缓慢流淌的河流就是科珀曼河。那波光粼粼的大海就是北冰洋。那船是一艘捕鲸船，本来的目的地是马更些河河口，可由于行驶方向偏东了，太偏东了，现在船抛锚停泊在科罗内申湾。他想起了很久以前看到过的那张哈得孙湾公司的地图，现在的一切对他来说都明朗合理起来。

He sat up and turned his attention to immediate affairs. He had worn through the blanket-wrappings, and his feet were shapeless lumps of raw meat. His last blanket was gone. Rifle and knife were both missing. He had lost his hat somewhere, with the bunch of matches in the band, but the matches against his chest were safe and dry inside the tobacco pouch and oil paper. He looked at his watch. It marked eleven o'clock and was still running. Evidently he had kept it wound.

他坐了起来，开始注意到眼下的事情。他磨破了裹在脚上的毯子，双脚已经不成样子，脚上全是磨烂后露出的伤口。最后一条毯子也被撕完了。来复枪和猎刀也不见了。他弄丢了帽子，卷在帽沿里的火柴也一并丢了，幸好胸前那用油纸包好的火柴还完好无损地躺在烟袋里，还是干的。他看了看表。十一点了，表还在走。显然他一直都记得给表上发条。

He was calm and collected. Though extremely weak, he had no sensation of pain. He was not hungry. The thought of food was not even pleasant to him, and whatever he did was done by his reason alone. He ripped off his pants' legs to the knees and bound them about his feet. Somehow he had succeeded in retaining the tin bucket. He would have some hot water before he began what he foresaw was to be a terrible journey to the ship.

他镇定而沉着。尽管极度虚弱，他并不感到痛苦。他不饿了。甚至想到食物也不会让他兴奋，他所做的一切只是出于理智。他扯掉膝盖以下的裤腿，裹住双脚。不管怎样，他把马口铁桶给保住了。他可以先喝些热水，再开始朝船那儿走，他预感这将是一次可怕的历程。

His movements were slow. He shook as with a palsy. When he started to collect dry moss, he found he could not rise to his feet. He tried again and again, then contented himself with crawling about on hands and knees. Once he crawled near to the sick wolf. The animal dragged itself reluctantly out of his way, licking its chops with a tongue which seemed hardly to have the strength to curl. The man noticed that the tongue was not the customary healthy red. It was a yellowish brown and seemed coated with a rough and half-dry mucus.

他挪得很慢。他像中风了一样哆嗦着。当他准备去收集干苔藓时，竟发现自己无法站起来了。他一次又一次地尝试，最后只得无可奈何地借着手和膝盖爬行前进。他一度爬着靠近了那只病狼。狼只好拖着身体不情愿地避开，用那条似乎没有力气卷起来的舌头舔了嘴巴一圈。他发现狼舌头的颜色并非通常的那种健康的红色。舌头微微泛着棕黄，似乎被一层粗糙且半干的黏膜包着。

After he had drunk a quart of hot water the man found he was able to stand, and even to walk as well as a dying man might be supposed to walk. Every minute or so he was compelled to rest. His steps were feeble and uncertain, just as the wolf's that trailed him were feeble and uncertain; and that night, when the shining sea was blotted out by blackness, he knew he was nearer to it by no more than four miles.

他喝完一些热水后，发现自己可以站起来走了，甚至能像想象中奄奄一息的人那样走路了。几乎每走一两分钟，他就要休息一下。他走起路来软弱无力、摇摇晃晃，就像那头跟踪他的狼一样不稳和虚弱；那天晚上，当波光粼粼的大海被黑暗笼罩时，他知道他只朝大海走了不过四英里远。

Throughout the night he heard the cough of the sick wolf, and now and then the squawking of the caribou calves. There was life all around him, but it was strong life, very much alive and well, and he knew the sick wolf clung to the sick man's trail in the hope that the man would die first. In the morning, on opening his eyes, he beheld it regarding him with a wistful and hungry stare. It stood crouched, with tail between its legs, like a miserable and woe-begone dog. It shivered in the chill morning wind, and grinned dispiritedly when the man spoke to it in a voice that achieved no more than a hoarse whisper.

整晚他都听到病狼的咳嗽声，偶尔也听到小驯鹿的叫声。围绕他的都是生命，但是那生命是强壮的、健康的、富有生气的。他也知道这只病狼一路紧跟着他，一心期待着人能先死。早上，他一睁开眼，就看到狼正盯着他，眼神中流露出无限的渴望和期盼。狼夹着尾巴蜷缩在地上，像一只异常悲惨不幸的狗。它在早晨的寒风中瑟瑟发抖。当这个人用类似沙哑的耳语冲它嘶喊时，它就沮丧地龇牙咧嘴。

The sun rose brightly, and all morning the man tottered and fell toward the ship on the shining sea. The weather was perfect. It was the brief Indian Summer of the high latitudes. It might last a week. Tomorrow or next day it might be gone.

太阳灿烂地升起，整个早上，他都步履蹒跚，朝着波光粼粼的大海里那艘船走去。天气非常好。这真是高纬度地方转瞬即逝的小阳春。这种天气也许会持续一个星期。也许随后一两天就会结束。

In the afternoon the man came upon a trail. It was of another man, who did not walk, but who dragged himself on all fours. The man thought it might be Bill, but he thought in a dull, uninterested way. He had no curiosity. In fact, sensation and emotion had left him. He was no longer susceptible to pain. Stomach and nerves had gone to sleep. Yet the life that was in him drove him on. He was very weary, but it refused to die. It was because it refused to die that he still ate muskeg berries and minnows, drank his hot water, and kept a wary eye on the sick wolf.

下午这人看到了一些痕迹。这是另一个人的痕迹，不过不是双脚步行，而是用四肢爬行留下的。他觉得这个人也许是比尔，不过他也只是隐约淡漠地那么一想。他并不好奇。实际上，他已经没有知觉和感情了。他也觉察不到痛苦。他的胃和神经已经睡着了。可是内在的生命仍在驱使他前进。他已疲惫不堪，但是内在的生命却拒绝死去。正是因为它拒绝死亡，他才靠沼泽地里的浆果、小鲦鱼和热水来维生，并时刻警惕着那只病狼。

He followed the trail of the other man who dragged himself along, and soon came to the end of it—a few fresh-picked bones where the soggy moss was marked by the foot-pads of many wolves. He saw a squat moose-hide sack, mate to his own, which had been torn by sharp teeth. He picked it up, though its weight was almost too much for his feeble fingers. Bill had carried it to the last. Ha! ha! He would have the laugh on Bill. He would survive and carry it to the ship in the shining sea. His mirth was hoarse and ghastly, like a raven's croak, and the sick wolf joined him, howling lugubriously. The man ceased suddenly. How could he have the laugh on Bill if that were Bill; if those bones, so pinky-white and clean, were Bill?

他跟随着另一个人向前爬行的痕迹，不久就走到了痕迹的尽头——见到一些刚被啃光的骨头，这儿潮湿的苔藓上还留有狼群的脚印。他看到一个自己也有的那种厚实的鹿皮袋，不过袋子已经被锋利的牙齿撕裂了。袋子很重，他无力的双手很难提动，但他最终还是提了起来。这是比尔到最后一刻都随身携带的东西。哈！哈！他要嘲笑比尔。他要活下去，把袋子带到波光粼粼的大海里那艘船上去。他沙哑的笑声让人觉得可怕，像乌鸦嘎嘎的叫声，而那只病狼也跟他一起发出哀嚎声。突然，这人停住了。如果这些白里泛红、被啃光的骸骨是比尔的话；如果它们真是比尔的，他怎么能嘲笑他呢？

He turned away. Well, Bill had deserted him; but he would not take the gold, nor would he suck Bill's bones. Bill would have, though, had it been the other way around, he mused as he staggered on. He came to a pool of water. Stooping over in quest of minnows, he jerked his head back as though he had been stung. He had caught sight of his reflected face. So horrible was it that sensibility awoke long enough to be shocked. There were three minnows in the pool, which was too large to drain; and after several ineffectual attempts to catch them in the tin bucket he forbore. He was afraid, because of his great weakness, that he might fall in and drown. It was for this reason that he did not trust himself to the river astride one of the many drift-logs which lined its sand-spits. That day he decreased the distance between him and the ship by three miles; the next day by two—for he was crawling now as Bill had crawled; and the end of the fifth day found the ship still seven miles away and him unable to make even a mile a day. Still the Indian Summer held on, and he continued to crawl and faint, turn and turn about; and ever the sick wolf coughed and wheezed at his heels. His knees had become raw meat like his feet, and though he padded them with the shirt from his back it was a red track he left behind him on the moss and stones. Once, glancing back, he saw the wolf licking hungrily his bleeding trail, and he saw sharply what his own end might be—unless—unless he could get the wolf. Then began as grim a tragedy of existence as was ever played—a sick man that crawled, a sick wolf that limped, two creatures dragging their dying carcasses across the desolation and hunting each other's lives.

他转身离开了。是的，比尔是抛弃了他；但是他不会拿走比尔的金子，也不会去吮吸他的骨头。不过，换作比尔遇到这种情况，也许他会那样做。他一边暗自想着这些，一边摇摇晃晃地向前走。他来到一个水坑旁。弯腰寻找小鲦鱼时，他突然抬起头，像是被什么戳到了。原来他是瞥见了自己倒映在水中的脸。那张脸如此可怕，以至于他突然恢复了知觉，惊愕了好一阵。水坑里有三条小鲦鱼，但是水坑太大，水没办法舀干；他就用马口铁桶去抓，但几次努力未果之后，他放弃了。由于身体极度虚弱，他很怕自己会跌进水里淹死。也正是这个原因，使他不敢跨上那些与河流的沙嘴平行漂流的圆木，顺着河流前行。那一天，他往船的方向靠近了三英里；第二天又靠近了两英里——因为他现在是像比尔一样爬着前进；到第五天末的时候，他发现自己离船还有七英里，而他连一英里也挪不动了。还是小阳春天气，他不断地爬着前行，也不断地晕倒，辗转不停；而那只病狼始终跟在他的后面，不停地咳嗽，呼哧呼哧地喘气。他的膝盖也像脚一样皮开肉绽，流着血。尽管他已经从身上撕下衬衫垫在膝盖下，但所经之处的苔藓和岩石上还是留下了斑斑血迹。有一次，他转过头去，看见狼正如饥似渴地舔着他留下的血迹，他清楚地看到了自己可能的结局——除非——除非他杀死这只狼。于是，像所有上演过的残酷的求生悲剧一样，他们之间也开始了这样的悲剧——一个虚弱的人爬着，一只病狼跛行跟着，两条生命都拖着垂死的躯体在荒原中穿行，互相觊觎着彼此的生命。

Had it been a well wolf, it would not have mattered so much to the man; but the thought of going to feed the maw of that loathsome and all but dead thing was repugnant to him. He was finicky. His mind had begun to wander again, and to be perplexed by hallucinations, while his lucid intervals grew rarer and shorter.

如果这是一只健康的狼，他不会太计较；但是一想到自己将成为这只令人厌恶的、奄奄一息的狼的美食时，他就觉得恶心。他是很苛求讲究的。他的脑子又开始恍惚，又开始出现令他迷惑的幻象，他越来越难以保持头脑的清醒。

He was awakened once from a faint by a wheeze close in his ear. The wolf leaped lamely back, losing its footing and falling in its weakness. It was ludicrous, but he was not amused. Nor was he even afraid. He was too far gone for that. But his mind was for the moment clear, and he lay and considered. The ship was no more than four miles away. He could see it quite distinctly when he rubbed the mists out of his eyes, and he could see the white sail of a small boat cutting the water of the shining sea. But he could never crawl those four miles. He knew that, and was very calm in the knowledge. He knew that he could not crawl half a mile. And yet he wanted to live. It was unreasonable that he should die after all he had undergone. Fate asked too much of him. And, dying, he declined to die. It was stark madness, perhaps, but in the very grip of Death he defied Death and refused to die.

有一次，耳边的喘息声把他从昏迷中惊醒。这只狼立刻跛着跳了回去，由于虚弱，它摔了一跤。它跌倒的样子很滑稽，但是他并不觉得好笑。他甚至也不觉得可怕。他已经这样了，还有什么好怕的。这一刻他的脑子很清醒，他躺在那儿思考着。船只有四英里远了。他擦去眼里的薄雾就可以看清那艘船，也能看到一艘带着白帆的小船在波光粼粼的海上破浪前行。但是他再也爬不完这四英里路了。他知道这一点，知道后也还是很平静。他知道他连半英里路都爬不动了。然而他想活下去。如果他在经历了千难万苦之后还是死去了，那也太不公平了。命运对他苛求太多。虽然他奄奄一息，但是他不想死。或许，这真是个疯狂的想法，但是就算是到了死神的手里，他也要反抗，也不愿意死。

He closed his eyes and composed himself with infinite precaution. He steeled himself to keep above the suffocating languor that lapped like a rising tide through all the wells of his being. It was very like a sea, this deadly languor, that rose and rose and drowned his consciousness bit by bit. Sometimes he was all but submerged, swimming through oblivion with a faltering stroke; and again, by some strange alchemy of soul, he would find another shred of will and strike out more strongly.

他闭上眼睛，让自己镇静，但是极其谨慎。令人窒息的倦怠像涨潮一样涌向全身各处，但是他竭力使自己坚强，不被这种倦怠击垮。这种致命的倦怠就像海水，一浪高过一浪，一点点地吞噬他的意识。有时，他就快被淹没了，只能颤颤巍巍地游过无人知晓的角落；有时，借着心灵的神奇作用，他又会获得一股力量，更加奋力地向前划水。

Without movement he lay on his back, and he could hear, slowly drawing near and nearer, the wheezing intake and output of the sick wolf's breath. It drew closer, ever closer, through an infinitude of time, and he did not move. It was at his ear. The harsh dry tongue grated like sandpaper against his cheek. His hands shot out—or at least he willed them to shoot out. The fingers were curved like talons, but they closed on empty air. Swiftness and certitude require strength, and the man had not this strength.

他仰面躺着，一动不动，并且能听到病狼呼吸的喘气声慢慢朝他逼近。声音不断朝他逼近，这样持续了很久，他没有动。狼来到了他的耳边。粗糙而干燥的舌头像砂纸一样蹭着他的脸颊。他猛地伸出双手——或者至少是努力伸出双手。手指弯成爪子状，但是什么也没有抓到。要有力气才能确保又快又准，而他力气不够。

The patience of the wolf was terrible. The man's patience was no less terrible. For half a day he lay motionless, fighting off unconsciousness and waiting for the thing that was to feed upon him and upon which he wished to feed. Sometimes the languid sea rose over him and he dreamed long dreams; but ever through it all, waking and dreaming, he waited for the wheezing breath and the harsh caress of the tongue.

狼的耐心令人感到可怕。而这个人的耐心同样可怕。他一动不动地躺了半日，一直都在与昏迷进行争，也在等着那只想要吃掉他，而他也想吃掉的狼。有时，疲倦像海水一样涌来，淹没了他，他做了很长的梦；但是自始至终，不管是醒着还是在梦中，他都在等待着那喘息声和粗糙舌头的摩擦。

He did not hear the breath, and he slipped slowly from some dream to the feel of the tongue along his hand. He waited. The fangs pressed softly; the pressure increased; the wolf was exerting its last strength in an effort to sink teeth in the food for which it had waited so long. But the man had waited long, and the lacerated hand closed on the jaw. Slowly, while the wolf struggled feebly and the hand clutched feebly, the other hand crept across to a grip. Five minutes later the whole weight of the man's body was on top of the wolf. The hands had not sufficient strength to choke the wolf, but the face of the man was pressed close to the throat of the wolf and the mouth of the man was full of hair. At the end of half an hour the man was aware of a warm trickle in his throat. It was not pleasant. It was like molten lead being forced into his stomach, and it was forced by his will alone. Later the man rolled over on his back and slept.

他并没有听到喘息声，当他渐渐从梦中醒来时，只感觉有舌头在舔他的手。他等待着。狼牙轻轻地抵住他的手，且越来越用力；接着，狼竭力使出最后一丝气力，死死咬住它等待已久的食物。但是这个人等了很久，然后他用那只受伤的手抓住了狼的下颚。狼的反抗渐渐减弱，他的手也渐渐抓不牢。这时，他的另一只手缓慢地摸过来，一下子抓住了狼。五分钟以后，这个人的整个身体都压在了狼身上。他双手再也使不出多余的力气扼死狼，他只能用脸紧紧地顶住狼的喉咙，满嘴都是狼毛。半个小时以后，这个人感觉到喉咙里流进一丝暖流。味道并不好。这股液体像是被强行灌进胃里的铅液，完全是靠意志力来完成的。不久，这个人翻了个身，仰面睡了。

There were some members of a scientific expedition on the whale-ship BEDFORD. From the deck they remarked a strange object on the shore. It was moving down the beach toward the water. They were unable to classify it, and, being scientific men, they climbed into the whale-boat alongside and went ashore to see. And they saw something that was alive but which could hardly be called a man. It was blind, unconscious. It squirmed along the ground like some monstrous worm. Most of its efforts were ineffectual, but it was persistent, and it writhed and twisted and went ahead perhaps a score of feet an hour.

一些科学探险队的队员在那艘名为“贝德福德”号的捕鲸船上。他们站在甲板上，看到岸上有一个奇怪的物体。它正沿着沙滩爬向大海。他们不能确定是什么物体，身为科研人员，他们爬上了旁边的一艘捕鲸用的小船，驶到岸边，上岸查看。他们看到了某种活物，但很难称其为人。它已经瞎了，毫无知觉。它沿着地面慢慢爬着，像一条巨大的虫子。大多数时候，它的努力都是徒劳的，但它仍坚持不懈。它不断地翻滚着、扭动着前进，这样，一个小时或许可以爬二十英尺。

Three weeks afterward the man lay in a bunk on the whale-ship BEDFORD, and with tears streaming down his wasted cheeks told who he was and what he had undergone. He also babbled incoherently of his mother, of sunny Southern California, and a home among the orange groves and flowers.

三个星期后，这个人躺在“贝德福德”号的一个铺位上，告诉他们他是谁，以及他所经历的一切，眼泪顺着他那消瘦的脸颊止不住地流了下来。他还含糊不清、断断续续地说到了他的母亲，说到了阳光灿烂的南加利福尼亚，以及桔树丛和花丛簇拥着的家。

The days were not many after that when he sat at table with the scientific men and ship's officers. He gloated over the spectacle of so much food, watching it anxiously as it went into the mouths of others. With the disappearance of each mouthful an expression of deep regret came into his eyes. He was quite sane, yet he hated those men at mealtime. He was haunted by a fear that the food would not last. He inquired of the cook, the cabin-boy, the captain, concerning the food stores. They reassured him countless times; but he could not believe them, and pried cunningly about the lazarette to see with his own eyes.

不久之后，他就能与那些科研人员和船员同桌吃饭了。他如饥似渴地看着如此丰富的食物，当看到别人吃东西时，他就非常焦虑。每当别人吃完一口，他的眼神就流露出深深的遗憾。他神智很正常，但是一到吃饭时，他就会恨这些人。他总是担心食物不够。他向厨师、服务员和船长打听他们还有多少储备粮。他们多次让他宽心；但他就是不相信，还狡猾地亲自到贮藏室附近查看。

It was noticed that the man was getting fat. He grew stouter with each day. The scientific men shook their heads and theorized. They limited the man at his meals, but still his girth increased and he swelled prodigiously under his shirt.

人们注意到，这个人在发胖。每天，他都会胖一些。那些科研人员摇了摇头，并给出理论推断。他们控制了他的食量，但是他的腰仍在变粗，身体仍在发胖，衬衣被撑得满满的。

The sailors grinned. They knew. And when the scientific men set a watch on the man, they knew too. They saw him slouch forward after breakfast, and, like a mendicant, with outstretched palm, accost a sailor. The sailor grinned and passed him a fragment of sea biscuit. He clutched it avariciously, looked at it as a miser looks at gold, and thrust it into his shirt bosom. Similar were the donations from other grinning sailors.

船员们咧嘴笑了。他们明白了。当科研人员监视他时，他们也明白了。他们看到他早饭后无精打采地走着，像个乞丐一样向水手伸出手。那个水手咧嘴一笑，递给他一块压缩饼干。他贪婪地将之紧紧抓住，像守财奴瞅着金子一样地瞅着它，然后迅速将它塞到衬衣里。其他水手也笑着给他差不多的东西。

The scientific men were discreet. They let him alone. But they privily examined his bunk. It was lined with hardtack; the mattress was stuffed with hardtack; every nook and cranny was filled with hardtack. Yet he was sane. He was taking precautions against another possible famine—that was all. He would recover from it, the scientific men said; and he did, ere the BEDFORD'S anchor rumbled down in San Francisco Bay.

这些科研人员行事谨慎。他们不管他。但是他们会偷偷检查他的铺位。床铺上面摆了一排排的硬饼干；被褥里也塞满了硬饼干；到处都塞满了硬饼干。但是他神志正常。他只是在防范可能再次出现的饥荒——就是这样。他会恢复正常，科研人员说；在“贝德福德”号还没有到圣弗朗西斯科湾停泊前，他就做到了。

(The End.)

（完。）