iam fleming.for your eyes only-第13章
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ner and a short sleep and then diluted the walnut stain and washed himself all over with the stuff even to the roots of his hair。 He came out looking like a Red Indian with blue…grey eyes。 Just before midnight he quietly opened the side door into the automobile bay； got into the Plymouth and drove off on the last lap south to Frelighsburg。
The man at the all…night garage was not as sleepy as Colonel Johns had said he would be。
〃Goin' huntin'； mister？〃
You can get far in North America with laconic grunts。 Huh； hun and hi！ in their various modulations； together with sure； guess so； that so？ and nuts！ will meet almost any contingency。
Bond； slinging the strap of his rifle over his shoulder； said 〃Hun。〃
〃Man got a fine beaver over by Highgate Springs Saturday。〃
Bond said indifferently 〃That so？〃； paid for two nights and walked out of the garage。 He had stopped on the far side of the town； and now he only had to follow the highway for a hundred yards before he found the dirt track running off into the woods on his right。 After half an hour the track petered out at a broken…down farmhouse。 A chained dog set up a frenzied barking； but no light showed in the farmhouse and Bond skirted it and at once found the path by the stream。 He was to follow this for three miles。 He lengthened his stride to get away from the dog。 When the barking stopped there was silence； the deep velvet silence of woods on a still night。 It was a warm night with a full yellow moon that threw enough light down through the thick spruce for Bond to follow the path without difficulty。 The springy； cushioned soles of the climbing boots were wonderful to walk on； and Bond got his second wind and knew he was making good time。 At around four o'clock the trees began to thin and he was soon walking through open fields with the scattered lights of Franklin on his right。 He crossed a secondary； tarred road； and now there was a wider track through the woods and on his right the pale glitter of a lake。 By five o'clock he had crossed the black rivers of US highways 108 and 120。 On the latter was a sign saying ENOSBURG FALLS 1 MI。 Now he was on the last lap … a small hunting trail that climbed steeply。 Well away from the highway； he stopped and shifted his rifle and knapsack round； had a cigarette and burned the sketch…map。 Already there was a faint paling in the sky and small noises in the forest … the harsh； melancholy cry of a bird he did not know and the rustlings of small animals。 Bond visualised the house deep down in the little valley on the other side of the mountain ahead of him。 He saw the blank curtained windows； the crumpled sleeping faces of the four men； the dew on the lawn and the widening rings of the early rise on the gunmetal surface of the lake。 And here； on the other side of the mountain； was the executioner ing up through the trees。 Bond closed his mind to the picture； trod the remains of his cigarette into the ground and got going。
Was this a hill or a mountain？ At what height does a hill bee a mountain？ Why don't they manufacture something out of the silver bark of birch trees？ It looks so useful and valuable。 The best things in America are chipmunks； and oyster stew。 In the evening darkness doesn't really fall； it rises。 When you sit on top of a mountain and watch the sun go down behind the mountain opposite； the darkness rises up to you out of the valley。 Will the birds one day lose their fear of man？ It must be centuries since man has killed a small bird for food in these woods； yet they are still afraid。 Who was this Ethan Allen who manded the Green Mountain Boys of Vermont？ Now； in American motels； they advertise Ethan Allen furniture as an attraction。 Why？ Did he make furniture？ Army boots should have rubber soles like these。
With these and other random thoughts Bond steadily climbed upwards and obstinately pushed away from him the thought of the four faces asleep on the white pillows。
The round peak was below the tree…line and Bond could see nothing of the valley below。 He rested and then chose an oak tree； and climbed up and out along a thick bough。 Now he could see everything … the endless vista of the Green Mountains stretching in every direction as far as he could see； away to the east the golden ball of the sun just ing up in glory； and below； two thousand feet down a long easy slope of treetops broken once by a wide band of meadow； through a thin veil of mist； the lake； the lawns and the house。
Bond lay along the branch and watched the band of pale early morning sunshine creeping down into the valley。 It took a quarter of an hour to reach the lake； and then seemed to flood at once over the glittering lawn and over the wet slate tiles of the roofs。 Then the mist went quickly from the lake and the target area； washed and bright and new； lay waiting like an empty stage。
Bond slipped the telescopic sight out of his pocket and went over the scene inch by inch。 Then he examined the sloping ground below him and estimated ranges。 From the edge of the meadow； which would be his only open field of fire unless he went down through the last belt of trees to the edge of the lake； it would be about five hundred yards to the terrace and the patio； and about three hundred to the diving…board and the edge of the lake。 What did these people do with their time？ What was their routine？ Did they ever bathe？ It was still warm enough。 Well； there was all day。 If by the end of it they had not e down to the lake； he would just have to take his chance at the patio and five hundred yards。 But it would not be a good chance with a strange rifle。 Ought he to get on down straight away to the edge of the meadow？ It was a wide meadow； perhaps five hundred yards of going without cover。 It would be as well to get that behind him before the house awoke。 What time did these people get up in the morning？
As if to answer him； a white blind rolled up in one of the smaller windows to the left of the main block。 Bond could distinctly hear the final snap of the spring roller。 Echo Lake！ Of course。 Did the echo work both ways？ Would he have to be careful of breaking branches and twigs？ Probably not。 The sounds in the valley would bounce upwards off the surface of the water。 But there must be no chances taken。
A thin column of smoke began to trickle up straight into the air from one of the left…hand chimneys。 Bond thought of the bacon and eggs that would soon be frying。 And the hot coffee。 He eased himself back along the branch and down to the ground。 He would have something to eat； smoke his last safe cigarette and get on down to the firing point。
The bread stuck in Bond's throat。 Tension was building up in him。 In his imagination he could already hear the deep bark of the Savage。 He could see the black bullet lazily； like a slow flying bee； homing down into the valley towards a square of pink skin。 There was a light smack as it hit。 The skin dented； broke and then closed up again leaving a small hole with bruised edges。 The bullet ploughed on； unhurriedly； towards the pulsing heart … the tissues； the bloodvessels； parting obediently to let it through。 Who was this man he was going to do this to？ What had he ever done to Bond？ Bond looked thoughtfully down at his trigger finger。 He crooked it slowly； feeling in his imagination the cool curve of metal。 Almost automatically； his left hand reached out for the flask。 He held it to his lips and tilted his head back。 The coffee and whisky burned a small fire down his throat。 He put the top back on the flask and waited for the warmth of the whisky to reach his stomach。 Then he got slowly to his feet； stretched and yawned deeply and picked up the rifle and slung it over his shoulder。 He looked round carefully to mark the place when he came back up the hill and started slowly off down through the trees。
Now there was no trail and he had to pick his way slowly； watching the ground for dead branches。 The trees were more mixed。 Among the spruce and silver birch there was an occasional oak and beech and sycamore and； here and there； the blazing Bengal fire of a maple in autumn dress。 Under the trees was a sparse undergrowth of their saplings and much dead wood from old hurricanes。 Bond went carefully down； his f
