Love of Life1

热爱生命

"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得得的撞击声。

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.