the red one(红色的那人)-第17章
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killed a wounded moose that weighed over half a ton。 Making his camp
beside it on a spruce…bottom； he was prepared to last out the winter； unless
a searching party found him or his scurvy grew worse。
But at the end of two weeks there had been no sign of search； while his
scurvy had undeniably grown worse。 Against his fire； banked from outer
cold by a shelter…wall of spruce…boughs； he crouched long hours in sleep
and long hours in waking。 But the waking hours grew less； becoming
semi…waking or half…dreaming hours as the process of hibernation worked
their way with him。 Slowly the sparkle point of consciousness and
identity that was John Tarwater sank； deeper and deeper； into the
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profounds of his being that had been compounded ere man was man； and
while he was becoming man； when he； first of all animals； regarded
himself with an introspective eye and laid the beginnings of morality in
foundations of nightmare peopled by the monsters of his own ethic…
thwarted desires。
Like a man in fever； waking to intervals of consciousness； so Old
Tarwater awoke； cooked his moose…meat； and fed the fire； but more and
more time he spent in his torpor； unaware of what was day…dream and
what was sleep…dream in the content of his unconsciousness。 And here； in
the unforgetable crypts of man's unwritten history； unthinkable and
unrealizable； like passages of nightmare or impossible adventures of
lunacy； he encountered the monsters created of man's first morality that
ever since have vexed him into the spinning of fantasies to elude them or
do battle with them。
In short； weighted by his seventy years； in the vast and silent
loneliness of the North； Old Tarwater； as in the delirium of drug or
anaesthetic； recovered within himself； the infantile mind of the child…man
of the early world。 It was in the dusk of Death's fluttery wings that
Tarwater thus crouched； and； like his remote forebear； the child…man； went
to myth…making； and sun…heroizing； himself hero…maker and the hero in
quest of the immemorable treasure difficult of attainment。
Either must he attain the treasure … for so ran the inexorable logic of
the shadow…land of the unconscious … or else sink into the all…devouring
sea； the blackness eater of the light that swallowed to extinction the sun
each night 。 。 。 the sun that arose ever in rebirth next morning in the east；
and that had become to man man's first symbol of immortality through
rebirth。 All this； in the deeps of his unconsciousness （the shadowy
western land of descending light）； was the near dusk of Death down into
which he slowly ebbed。
But how to escape this monster of the dark that from within him
slowly swallowed him？ Too deep…sunk was he to dream of escape or feel
the prod of desire to escape。 For him reality had ceased。 Nor from within
the darkened chamber of himself could reality recrudesce。 His years
were too heavy upon him； the debility of disease and the lethargy and
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torpor of the silence and the cold were too profound。 Only from without
could reality impact upon him and reawake within him an awareness of
reality。 Otherwise he would ooze down through the shadow…realm of the
unconscious into the all… darkness of extinction。
But it came； the smash of reality from without； crashing upon his ear
drums in a loud； explosive snort。 For twenty days； in a temperature that
had never risen above fifty below； no breath of wind had blown movement；
no slightest sound had broken the silence。 Like the smoker on the opium
couch refocusing his eyes from the spacious walls of dream to the narrow
confines of the mean little room； so Old Tarwater stared vague…eyed
before him across his dying fire； at a huge moose that stared at him in
startlement； dragging a wounded leg； manifesting all signs of extreme
exhaustion； it； too； had been straying blindly in the shadow…land； and had
wakened to reality only just ere it stepped into Tarwater's fire。
He feebly slipped the large fur mitten lined with thickness of wool
from his right hand。 Upon trial he found the trigger finger too numb for
movement。 Carefully； slowly； through long minutes； he worked the bare
hand inside his blankets； up under his fur PARKA； through the chest
openings of his shirts； and into the slightly warm hollow of his left arm…pit。
Long minutes passed ere the finger could move； when； with equal
slowness of caution； he gathered his rifle to his shoulder and drew bead
upon the great animal across the fire。
At the shot； of the two shadow…wanderers； the one reeled downward to
the dark and the other reeled upward to the light； swaying drunkenly on
his scurvy…ravaged legs； shivering with nervousness and cold； rubbing
swimming eyes with shaking fingers； and staring at the real world all
about him that had returned to him with such sickening suddenness。 He
shook himself together； and realized that for long； how long he did not
know； he had bedded in the arms of Death。 He spat； with definite
intention； heard the spittle crackle in the frost； and judged it must be below
and far below sixty below。 In truth； that day at Fort Yukon； the spirit
thermometer registered seventy…five degrees below zero； which； since
freezing… point is thirty…two above； was equivalent to one hundred and
seven degrees of frost。
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Slowly Tarwater's brain reasoned to action。 Here； in the vast alone；
dwelt Death。 Here had come two wounded moose。 With the clearing of
the sky after the great cold came on； he had located his bearings； and he
knew that both wounded moose had trailed to him from the east。
Therefore； in the east； were men … whites or Indians he could not tell； but
at any rate men who might stand by him in his need and help moor him to
reality above the sea of dark。
He moved slowly； but he moved in reality； girding himself with rifle；
ammunition； matches； and a pack of twenty pounds of moose… meat。
Then； an Argus rejuvenated； albeit lame of both legs and tottery； he turned
his back on the perilous west and limped into the sun…arising； re…birthing
east。 。 。 。
Days later … how many days later he was never to know … dreaming
dreams and seeing visions； cackling his old gold…chant of Forty… Nine； like
one drowning and swimming feebly to keep his consciousness above the
engulfing dark； he came out upon the snow… slope to a canyon and saw
below smoke rising and men who ceased from work to gaze at him。 He
tottered down the hill to them； still singing； and when he ceased from lack
of breath they called him variously： Santa Claus； Old Christmas；
Whiskers； the Last of the Mohicans； and Father Christmas。 And when he
stood among them he stood very still； without speech； while great tears
welled out of his eyes。 He cried silently； a long time； till； as if suddenly
bethinking himself； he sat down in the snow with much creaking and
crackling of his joints； and from this low vantage point toppled sidewise
and fainted calmly and easily away。
In less than a week Old Tarwater was up and limping about the
housework of the cabin； cooking and dish…washing for the five men of the
creek。 Genuine sourdoughs （pioneers） they were； tough and hard…bitten；
who had been buried so deeply inside the Circle that they did not know
there was a Klondike Strike。 The news he brought them was their first
word of it。 They lived on an almost straight… meat diet of moose； caribou；
and smoked salmon； eked out with wild berries and somewhat succulent
wild roots they had stocked up with in the summer。 They had forgotten
the taste of coffee； made fire with a burning glass； carried live fire…sticks
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with them wherever they travelled； and in their pipes smoked dry leaves
that bit the tongue and were pungent to the nostrils。
Three years before； they had prospected from the head…reaches of the
Koyokuk northward and clear across to the mouth of the Mackenzie on the
Arctic Ocean。 Here； on the whaleships； they had beheld their last white
men and equipped themselves with the last white man's grub； consisting
principally of salt and smoking tobacco。 Striking south and west on the
long traverse to the junction of the Yukon and Porcupine at Fort Yukon；
they had found gold on this creek and remained over to work the ground。
They hailed the advent of Tarwater with joy； never tired of listening to
his tales of Forty…Nine； and rechristened him Old Hero。 Also； with tea
made from spruce needles； with concoctions brewed from the inner willow
bark； and with sour and bitter roots and bulbs from the ground； they dosed
his scurvy out of him； so that he ceased limping and began to lay on flesh
over his bony framework。 Further； they saw no reason at all why he
should not gather a rich treasure of gold from the ground。
〃Don't know about all of three hundred thousand；〃 they told him one
morning； at breakfast； ere they departed to their work； 〃but how'd a
hundred thousand do； Old Hero？ That's what we figure a claim is worth；
the ground being badly spotted； and we've already staked your loc
