lost face(丢失的脸)-第7章
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〃How did you make out？ How're the boys？ What became of Bill
Smithers？ Is Del Bishop still with Pierce？ Did he sell my dogs？ How
did Sulphur Bottom show up？ You're looking fine。 What steamer did
you come out on？〃
To all of which Churchill gave answer； till half an hour had gone by
and the first lull in the conversation had arrived。
〃Hadn't you better take a look at it？〃 he suggested； nodding his head at
the gripsack
〃Oh； it's all right；〃 Bondell answered。 〃Did Mitchell's dump turn out
as much as he expected？〃
〃I think you'd better look at it；〃 Churchill insisted。 〃When I deliver a
thing； I want to be satisfied that it's all right。 There's always the chance
that somebody might have got into it when I was asleep； or something。〃
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〃It's nothing important； old man；〃 Bondell answered； with a laugh。
〃Nothing important；〃 Churchill echoed in a faint； small voice。 Then
he spoke with decision： 〃Louis； what's in that bag？ I want to know。〃
Louis looked at him curiously； then left the room and returned with a
bunch of keys。 He inserted his hand and drew out a heavy Colt's revolver。
Next came out a few boxes of ammunition for the revolver and several
boxes of Winchester cartridges。
Churchill took the gripsack and looked into it。 Then he turned it
upside down and shook it gently。
〃The gun's all rusted；〃 Bondell said。 〃Must have been out in the
rain。〃
〃Yes；〃 Churchill answered。 〃Too bad it got wet。 I guess I was a bit
careless。〃
He got up and went outside。 Ten minutes later Louis Bondell went
out and found him on the steps； sitting down； elbows on knees and chin on
hands； gazing steadfastly out into the darkness。
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TO BUILD A FIRE
Day had broken cold and grey； exceedingly cold and grey； when the
man turned aside from the main Yukon trail and climbed the high earth…
bank； where a dim and little…travelled trail led eastward through the fat
spruce timberland。 It was a steep bank； and he paused for breath at the
top； excusing the act to himself by looking at his watch。 It was nine
o'clock。 There was no sun nor hint of sun； though there was not a cloud
in the sky。 It was a clear day； and yet there seemed an intangible pall
over the face of things； a subtle gloom that made the day dark； and that
was due to the absence of sun。 This fact did not worry the man。 He
was used to the lack of sun。 It had been days since he had seen the sun；
and he knew that a few more days must pass before that cheerful orb； due
south； would just peep above the sky… line and dip immediately from view。
The man flung a look back along the way he had come。 The Yukon
lay a mile wide and hidden under three feet of ice。 On top of this ice
were as many feet of snow。 It was all pure white； rolling in gentle
undulations where the ice…jams of the freeze…up had formed。 North and
south； as far as his eye could see； it was unbroken white； save for a dark
hair…line that curved and twisted from around the spruce… covered island to
the south； and that curved and twisted away into the north； where it
disappeared behind another spruce…covered island。 This dark hair…line was
the trailthe main trailthat led south five hundred miles to the Chilcoot
Pass； Dyea； and salt water； and that led north seventy miles to Dawson；
and still on to the north a thousand miles to Nulato； and finally to St。
Michael on Bering Sea； a thousand miles and half a thousand more。
But all thisthe mysterious； far…reaching hairline trail； the absence of
sun from the sky； the tremendous cold； and the strangeness and weirdness
of it allmade no impression on the man。 It was not because he was long
used to it。 He was a new…comer in the land； a chechaquo； and this was
his first winter。 The trouble with him was that he was without
imagination。 He was quick and alert in the things of life； but only in the
things； and not in the significances。 Fifty degrees below zero meant eighty
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odd degrees of frost。 Such fact impressed him as being cold and
uncomfortable； and that was all。 It did not lead him to meditate upon his
frailty as a creature of temperature； and upon man's frailty in general； able
only to live within certain narrow limits of heat and cold； and from there
on it did not lead him to the conjectural field of immortality and man's
place in the universe。 Fifty degrees below zero stood for a bite of frost
that hurt and that must be guarded against by the use of mittens； ear…flaps；
warm moccasins； and thick socks。 Fifty degrees below zero was to him
just precisely fifty degrees below zero。 That there should be anything
more to it than that was a thought that never entered his head。
As he turned to go on； he spat speculatively。 There was a sharp；
explosive crackle that startled him。 He spat again。 And again； in the air；
before it could fall to the snow； the spittle crackled。 He knew that at fifty
below spittle crackled on the snow； but this spittle had crackled in the air。
Undoubtedly it was colder than fifty belowhow much colder he did not
know。 But the temperature did not matter。 He was bound for the old
claim on the left fork of Henderson Creek； where the boys were already。
They had come over across the divide from the Indian Creek country；
while he had come the roundabout way to take a look at the possibilities of
getting out logs in the spring from the islands in the Yukon。 He would be
in to camp by six o'clock； a bit after dark； it was true； but the boys would
be there； a fire would be going； and a hot supper would be ready。 As for
lunch； he pressed his hand against the protruding bundle under his jacket。
It was also under his shirt； wrapped up in a handkerchief and lying against
the naked skin。 It was the only way to keep the biscuits from freezing。
He smiled agreeably to himself as he thought of those biscuits； each cut
open and sopped in bacon grease； and each enclosing a generous slice of
fried bacon。
He plunged in among the big spruce trees。 The trail was faint。 A
foot of snow had fallen since the last sled had passed over； and he was
glad he was without a sled； travelling light。 In fact； he carried nothing
but the lunch wrapped in the handkerchief。 He was surprised； however；
at the cold。 It certainly was cold； he concluded； as he rubbed his numbed
nose and cheek…bones with his mittened hand。 He was a warm…
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whiskered man； but the hair on his face did not protect the high cheek…
bones and the eager nose that thrust itself aggressively into the frosty air。
At the man's heels trotted a dog； a big native husky； the proper wolf…
dog； grey…coated and without any visible or temperamental difference
from its brother； the wild wolf。 The animal was depressed by the
tremendous cold。 It knew that it was no time for travelling。 Its instinct
told it a truer tale than was told to the man by the man's judgment。 In
reality； it was not merely colder than fifty below zero； it was colder than
sixty below； than seventy below。 It was seventy…five below zero。 Since
the freezing…point is thirty…two above zero； it meant that one hundred and
seven degrees of frost obtained。 The dog did not know anything about
thermometers。 Possibly in its brain there was no sharp consciousness of a
condition of very cold such as was in the man's brain。 But the brute had
its instinct。 It experienced a vague but menacing apprehension that
subdued it and made it slink along at the man's heels； and that made it
question eagerly every unwonted movement of the man as if expecting
him to go into camp or to seek shelter somewhere and build a fire。 The
dog had learned fire； and it wanted fire； or else to burrow under the snow
and cuddle its warmth away from the air。
The frozen moisture of its breathing had settled on its fur in a fine
powder of frost； and especially were its jowls； muzzle； and eyelashes
whitened by its crystalled breath。 The man's red beard and moustache
were likewise frosted； but more solidly； the deposit taking the form of ice
and increasing with every warm； moist breath he exhaled。 Also； the man
was chewing tobacco； and the muzzle of ice held his lips so rigidly that he
was unable to clear his chin when he expelled the juice。 The result was
that a crystal beard of the colour and solidity of amber was increasing its
length on his chin。 If he fell down it would shatter itself； like glass； into
brittle fragments。 But he did not mind the appendage。 It was the penalty
all tobacco… chewers paid in that country； and he had been out before in
two cold snaps。 They had not been so cold as this； he knew； but by the
spirit thermometer at Sixty Mile he knew they had been registered at fifty
below and at fifty…five。
He held on through the level stretch of woods for several miles；
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crossed a wide flat of nigger…heads； and dropped down a bank to the
frozen bed of a small stream。 This was Henderson Creek；
