the mountains(山脉)-第17节
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！
months； then steals away to give place to the next。 Whither they go you
have not known until you have traveled the high mountains。 Summer
lives in the valley； that you know。 Then a little higher you are in the
spring… time； even in August。 Melting patches of snow linger under the
heavy firs； the earth is soggy with half…absorbed snow…water； trickling
with exotic little rills that do not belong； grasses of the year before float
like drowned hair in pellucid pools with an air of permanence； except for
the one fact； fresh green things are sprouting bravely； through bare
branches trickles a shower of bursting buds； larger at the top； as though the
Sower had in passing scattered them from above。 Birds of extraordinary
cheerfulness sing merrily to new and doubtful flowers。 The air tastes
cold； but the sun is warm。 The great spring humming and promise is in
the air。 And a few thousand feet higher you wallow over the surface of
drifts while a winter wind searches your bones。 I used to think that Santa
Claus dwelt at the North Pole。 Now I am convinced that he has a
workshop somewhere among the great mountains where dwell the Seasons；
and that his reindeer paw for grazing in the alpine meadows below the
highest peaks。
Here the birds migrate up and down instead of south and north。 It
must be a great saving of trouble to them； and undoubtedly those who
have discovered it maintain toward the unenlightened the same delighted
and fraternal secrecy with which you and I guard the knowledge of a good
trout…stream。 When you can migrate adequately in a single day； why
spend a month at it？
Also do I remember certain spruce woods with openings where the sun
shone through。 The shadows were very black； the sunlight very white。
As I looked back I could see the pack…horses alternately suffer eclipse and
56
… Page 57…
THE MOUNTAINS
illumination in a strange flickering manner good to behold。 The dust of
the trail eddied and billowed lazily in the sun； each mote flashing as
though with life； then abruptly as it crossed the sharp line of shade it
disappeared。
From these spruce woods； level as a floor； we came out on the rounded
shoulder of a mountain to find ourselves nearly nine thousand feet above
the sea。 Below us was a deep canon to the middle of the earth。 And
spread in a semicircle about the curve of our mountain a most magnificent
panoramic view。 First there were the plains； represented by a brown haze
of heat； then； very remote； the foot…hills； the brush…hills； the pine
mountains； the upper timber； the tremendous granite peaks； and finally the
barrier of the main crest with its glittering snow。 From the plains to that
crest was over seventy miles。 I should not dare say how far we could see
down the length of the range； nor even how distant was the other wall of
the canon over which we rode。 Certainly it was many miles； and to
reach the latter point consumed three days。
It is useless to multiply instances。 The principle is well enough
established by these。 Whatever impression of your trail you carry away
will come from the little common occurrences of every day。 That is true
of all trails； and equally so； it seems to me； of our Trail of Life sketched
at the beginning of this essay。
But the trail of the mountains means more than wonder； it means hard
work。 Unless you stick to the beaten path； where the freighters have lost
so many mules that they have finally decided to fix things up a bit； you are
due for lots of trouble。 Bad places will come to be a nightmare with you
and a topic of conversation with whomever you may meet。 We once
enjoyed the company of a prospector three days while he made up his
mind to tackle a certain bit of trail we had just descended。 Our accounts
did not encourage him。 Every morning he used to squint up at the cliff
which rose some four thousand feet above us。 〃Boys；〃 he said finally as
he started； 〃I may drop in on you later in the morning。〃 I am happy to
say he did not。
The most discouraging to the tenderfoot； but in reality the safest of all
bad trails； is the one that skirts a precipice。 Your horse possesses a
57
… Page 58…
THE MOUNTAINS
laudable desire to spare your inside leg unnecessary abrasion； so he walks
on the extreme outer edge。 If you watch the performance of the animal
ahead； you will observe that every few moments his outer hind hoof slips
off that edge； knocking little stones down into the abyss。 Then you
conclude that sundry slight jars you have been experiencing are from the
same cause。 Your peace of mind deserts you。 You stare straight ahead；
sit VERY light indeed； and perhaps turn the least bit sick。 The horse；
however； does not mind； nor will you； after a little。 There is absolutely
nothing to do but to sit steady and give your animal his head。 In a fairly
extended experience I never got off the edge but once。 Then somebody
shot a gun immediately ahead； my horse tried to turn around； slipped； and
slid backwards until he overhung the chasm。 Fortunately his hind feet
caught a tiny bush。 He gave a mighty heave； and regained the trail。
Afterwards I took a look and found that there were no more bushes for a
hundred feet either way。
Next in terror to the unaccustomed is an ascent by lacets up a very
steep side hill。 The effect is cumulative。 Each turn brings you one
stage higher； adds definitely one more unit to the test of your hardihood。
This last has not terrified you； how about the next？ or the next？ or the one
after that？ There is not the slightest danger。 You appreciate this point
after you have met head…on some old…timer。 After you have speculated
frantically how you are to pass him； he solves the problem by calmly
turning his horse off the edge and sliding to the next lacet below。 Then
you see that with a mountain horse it does not much matter whether you
get off such a trail or not。
The real bad places are quite as likely to be on the level as on the slant。
The tremendous granite slides； where the cliff has avalanched thousands
of tons of loose jagged rock…fragments across the passage； are the worst。
There your horse has to be a goat in balance。 He must pick his way from
the top of one fragment to the other； and if he slips into the interstices he
probably breaks a leg。 In some parts of the granite country are also
smooth rock aprons where footing is especially difficult； and where often a
slip on them means a toboggan chute off into space。 I know of one spot
where such an apron curves off the shoulder of the mountain。 Your horse
58
… Page 59…
THE MOUNTAINS
slides directly down it until his hoofs encounter a little crevice。
Checking at this； he turns sharp to the left and so off to the good trail again。
If he does not check at the little crevice； he slides on over the curve of the
shoulder and lands too far down to bury。
Loose rocks in numbers on a very steep and narrow trail are always an
abomination； and a numerous abomination at that。 A horse slides； skates；
slithers。 It has always seemed to me that luck must count largely in such
a place。 When the animal treads on a loose round stoneas he does
every step of the waythat stone is going to roll under him； and he is
going to catch himself as the nature of that stone and the little gods of
chance may will。 Only furthermore I have noticed that the really good
horse keeps his feet； and the poor one tu
