the complete writings-3-第3章

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


　story　in　it；　since　it　is　almost　as　easy　for　a　stranger　to　get　lost　in　the　Adirondacks　as　in　Boston。　　I　merely　desire　to　say　that　my　unimportant　adventure　is　not　narrated　in　answer　to　the　popular　demand；　and　I　do　not　wish　to　be　held　responsible　for　its　variation　from　the　typical　character　of　such　experiences。

We　had　been　in　camp　a　week；　on　the　Upper　Au　Sable　Lake。　　This　is　a　gememerald　or　turquoise　as　the　light　changes　itset　in　the　virgin　forest。　　It　is　not　a　large　body　of　water；　is　irregular　in　form；　and　about　a　mile　and　a　half　in　length；　but　in　the　sweep　of　its　wooded　shores；　and　the　lovely　contour　of　the　lofty　mountains　that　guard　it；　the　lake　is　probably　the　most　charming　in　America。　　Why　the　young　ladies　and　gentlemen　who　camp　there　occasionally　vex　the　days　and　nights　with　hooting；　and　singing　sentimental　songs；　is　a　mystery　even　to　the　laughing　loon。

I　left　my　companions　there　one　Saturday　morning；　to　return　to　Keene　Valley；　intending　to　fish　down　the　Au　Sable　River。　　The　Upper　Lake　discharges　itself　into　the　Lower　by　a　brook　which　winds　through　a　mile　and　a　half　of　swamp　and　woods。　　Out　of　the　north　end　of　the　Lower　Lake；　which　is　a　huge　sink　in　the　mountains；　and　mirrors　the　savage　precipices；　the　Au　Sable　breaks　its　rocky　barriers；　and　flows　through　a　wild　gorge；　several　miles；　to　the　valley　below。　　Between　the　Lower　Lake　and　the　settlements　is　an　extensive　forest；　traversed　by　a　cart…path；　admirably　constructed　of　loose　stones；　roots　of　trees；　decayed　logs；　slippery　rocks；　and　mud。　　The　gorge　of　the　river　forms　its　western　boundary。　　I　followed　this　caricature　of　a　road　a　mile　or　more；　then　gave　my　luggage　to　the　guide　to　carry　home；　and　struck　off　through　the　forest；　by　compass；　to　the　river。　　I　promised　myself　an　exciting　scramble　down　this　little…frequented　canyon；　and　a　creel　full　of　trout。　　There　was　no　difficulty　in　finding　the　river；　or　in　descending　the　steep　precipice　to　its　bed：　getting　into　a　scrape　is　usually　the　easiest　part　of　it。　　The　river　is　strewn　with　bowlders；　big　and　little；　through　which　the　amber　water　rushes　with　an　unceasing　thunderous　roar；　now　plunging　down　in　white　falls；　then　swirling　round　in　dark　pools。　　The　day；　already　past　meridian；　was　delightful；　at　least；　the　blue　strip　of　it　I　could　see　overhead。

Better　pools　and　rapids　for　trout　never　were；　I　thought；　as　I　concealed　myself　behind　a　bowlder；　and　made　the　first　cast。　　There　is　nothing　like　the　thrill　of　expectation　over　the　first　throw　in　unfamiliar　waters。　　Fishing　is　like　gambling；　in　that　failure　only　excites　hope　of　a　fortunate　throw　next　time。　　There　was　no　rise　to　the　〃leader〃　on　the　first　cast；　nor　on　the　twenty…first；　and　I　cautiously　worked　my　way　down　stream；　throwing　right　and　left。　　When　I　had　gone　half　a　mile；　my　opinion　of　the　character　of　the　pools　was　unchanged：　never　were　there　such　places　for　trout；　but　the　trout　were　out　of　their　places。　　Perhaps　they　didn't　care　for　the　fly：　some　trout　seem　to　be　so　unsophisticated　as　to　prefer　the　worm。　　I　replaced　the　fly　with　a　baited　hook：　the　worm　squirmed；　the　waters　rushed　and　roared；　a　cloud　sailed　across　the　blue：　no　trout　rose　to　the　lonesome　opportunity。　　There　is　a　certain　companionship　in　the　presence　of　trout；　especially　when　you　can　feel　them　flopping　in　your　fish　basket；　but　it　became　evident　that　there　were　no　trout　in　this　wilderness；　and　a　sense　of　isolation　for　the　first　time　came　over　me。　There　was　no　living　thing　near。　　The　river　had　by　this　time　entered　a　deeper　gorge；　walls　of　rocks　rose　perpendicularly　on　either　side；　picturesque　rocks；　painted　many　colors　by　the　oxide　of　iron。　　It　was　not　possible　to　climb　out　of　the　gorge；　it　was　impossible　to　find　a　way　by　the　side　of　the　river；　and　getting　down　the　bed；　over　the　falls；　and　through　the　flumes；　was　not　easy；　and　consumed　time。

Was　that　thunder？　　Very　likely。　　But　thunder　showers　are　always　brewing　in　these　mountain　fortresses；　and　it　did　not　occur　to　me　that　there　was　anything　personal　in　it。　　Very　soon；　however；　the　hole　in　the　sky　closed　in；　and　the　rain　dashed　down。　　It　seemed　a　providential　time　to　eat　my　luncheon；　and　I　took　shelter　under　a　scraggy　pine　that　had　rooted　itself　in　the　edge　of　the　rocky　slope。　The　shower　soon　passed；　and　I　continued　my　journey；　creeping　over　the　slippery　rocks；　and　continuing　to　show　my　confidence　in　the　unresponsive　trout。　　The　way　grew　wilder　and　more　grewsome。　　The　thunder　began　again；　rolling　along　over　the　tops　of　the　mountains；　and　reverberating　in　sharp　concussions　in　the　gorge：　the　lightning　also　darted　down　into　the　darkening　passage；　and　then　the　rain。　Every　enlightened　being；　even　if　he　is　in　a　fisherman's　dress　of　shirt　and　pantaloons；　hates　to　get　wet；　and　I　ignominiously　crept　under　the　edge　of　a　sloping　bowlder。　　It　was　all　very　well　at　first；　until　streams　of　water　began　to　crawl　along　the　face　of　the　rock；　and　trickle　down　the　back　of　my　neck。　　This　was　refined　misery；　unheroic　and　humiliating；　as　suffering　always　is　when　unaccompanied　by　resignation。

A　longer　time　than　I　knew　was　consumed　in　this　and　repeated　efforts　to　wait　for　the　slackening　and　renewing　storm　to　pass　away。　　In　the　intervals　of　calm　I　still　fished；　and　even　descended　to　what　a　sportsman　considers　incredible　baseness：　I　put　a　〃sinker〃　on　my　line。　It　is　the　practice　of　the　country　folk；　whose　only　object　is　to　get　fish；　to　use　a　good　deal　of　bait；　sink　the　hook　to　the　bottom　of　the　pools；　and　wait　the　slow　appetite　of　the　summer　trout。　　I　tried　this　also。　　I　might　as　well　have　fished　in　a　pork　barrel。　　It　is　true　that　in　one　deep；　black；　round　pool　I　lured　a　small　trout　from　the　bottom；　and　deposited　him　in　the　creel；　but　it　was　an　accident。　　Though　I　sat　there　in　the　awful　silence　（the　roar　of　water　and　thunder　only　emphasized　the　stillness）　full　half　an　hour；　I　was　not　encouraged　by　another　nibble。　　Hope；　however；　did　not　die：　I　always　expected　to　find　the　trout　in　the　next　flume；　and　so　I　toiled　slowly　on；　unconscious　of　the　passing　time。　　At　each　turn　of　the　stream　I　expected　to　see　the　end；　and　at　each　turn　I　saw　a　long；　narrow　stretch　of　rocks　and　foaming　water。　　Climbing　out　of　the　ravine　was；　in　most　places；　simply　impossible；　and　I　began　to　look　with　interest　for　a　slide；　where　bushes　rooted　in　the　scant　earth　would　enable　me　to　scale　the　precipice。　　I　did　not　doubt　that　I　was　nearly　through　the　gorge。　　I　could　at　length　see　the　huge　form　of　the　Giant　of　the　Valley；　scarred　with　avalanches；　at　the　end　of　the　vista；　and　it　seemed　not　far　off。　　But　it　kept　its　distance；　as　only　a　mountain　can；　while　I　stumbled　and　slid　down　the　rocky　way。　　The　rain　had　now　set　in　with　persistence；　and　suddenly　I　became　aware　that　it　was　growing　dark；　and　I　said　to　myself；　〃If　you　don't　wish　to　spend　the　night　in　this　horrible　chasm；　you'd　better　escape　speedily。〃　Fortunately　I　reached　a　place　where　the　face　of　the　precipice　was　bushgrown；　and　with　considerable　labor　scrambled　up　it。

Having　no　doubt　that　I　was　within　half　a　mile；　perhaps　within　a　few　rods；　of　the　house　above　the　entrance　of　the　gorge；　and　that；　in　any　event；　I　should　fall　into　the　cart…path　in　a　few　minutes；　I　struck　boldly　into　the　forest；　congratulating　myself　on　having　escaped　out　of　the　river。　　So　sure　was　I　of　my　whereabouts　that　I　did　not　note　the　bend　of　the　river；　nor　look　at　my　compass。　　The　one　trout　in　my　basket　was　no　burden；　and　I　stepped　lightly　out。

The　forest　was　of　hard…wood；　and　open；　except　for　a　thick　undergrowth　of　moose…bush。　　It　was　raining；in　fact；　it　had　been　raining；　more　or　less；　for　a　month；and　the　woods　were　soaked。　　This　moose…bush　is　most　annoying　stuff　to　travel　through　in　a　rain；　for　the　broad　leaves　slap　one　in　the　face；　and　sop　him　with　wet。　　The　way　grew　every　moment　more　dingy。　　The　heavy　clouds　above　the　thick　foliage　brought　night　on　prematurely。　　It　was　decidedly　premature　to　a　near…sighted　man；　whose　glasses　the　rain　rendered　useless：　such　a　person　ought　to　be　at　home　early。　　On　leaving　the　river　bank　I　had　borne　to　the　left；　so　as　to　be　sure　to　strike　either　the　clearing　or　the　road；　and　not　wander　off　into　the　measureless　forest。　　I　confidently　pursued　this　course；　and　went　gayly　on　by　the　left　flank。　　That　I　did　not　come　to　any　opening　or　path　only　showed　that　I　had　sl