the mountains(山脉)-第20节
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you will take into account； a very few of the many which lend the deer
countries strange thrills of delight over new knowledge gained； over crafty
expedients invented or well utilized； over the satisfactory matching of
your reason； your instinct； your subtlety and skill against the reason；
instinct； subtlety； and skill of one of the wariest of large wild animals。
Perversely enough the times when you did NOT see deer are more apt
to remain vivid in your memory than the times when you did。 I can still
see distinctly sundry wide jump…marks where the animal I was tracking
had evidently caught sight of me and lit out before I came up to him。
Equally； sundry little thin disappearing clouds of dust； cracklings of brush；
growing ever more distant； the tops of bushes waving to the steady
passage of something remaining persistently concealed；these are the
chief ingredients often repeated which make up deer…stalking memory。
When I think of seeing deer； these things automatically rise。
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THE MOUNTAINS
A few of the deer actually seen do； however； stand out clearly from the
many。 When I was a very small boy possessed of a 32…20 rifle and large
ambitions； I followed the advantage my father's footsteps made me in the
deep snow of an unused logging…road。 His attention was focused on
some very interesting fresh tracks。 I； being a small boy； cared not at all
for tracks； and so saw a big doe emerge from the bushes not ten yards
away； lope leisurely across the road； and disappear； wagging earnestly her
tail。 When I had recovered my breath I vehemently demanded the sense
of fooling with tracks when there were real live deer to be had。 My
father examined me。
〃Well； why didn't you shoot her？〃 he inquired dryly。
I hadn't thought of that。
In the spring of 1900 I was at the head of the Piant River waiting for
the log…drive to start。 One morning； happening to walk over a slashing of
many years before in which had grown a strong thicket of white popples； I
jumped a band of nine deer。 I shall never forget the bewildering
impression made by the glancing； dodging； bouncing white of those nine
snowy tails and rumps。
But most wonderful of all was a great buck； of I should be afraid to
say how many points； that stood silhouetted on the extreme end of a ridge
high above our camp。 The time was just after twilight； and as we
watched； the sky lightened behind him in prophecy of the moon。
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THE MOUNTAINS
XI
ON TENDERFEET
The tenderfoot is a queer beast。 He makes more trouble than ants at a
picnic； more work than a trespassing goat； he never sees anything； knows
where anything is； remembers accurately your instructions； follows them
if remembered； or is able to handle without awkwardness his large and
pathetic hands and feet； he is always lost； always falling off or into things；
always in difficulties； his articles of necessity are constantly being burned
up or washed away or mislaid； he looks at you beamingly through great
innocent eyes in the most chuckle…headed of manners； he exasperates you
to within an inch of explosion；and yet you love him。
I am referring now to the real tenderfoot； the fellow who cannot learn；
who is incapable ever of adjusting himself to the demands of the wild life。
Sometimes a man is merely green； inexperienced。 But give him a chance
and he soon picks up the game。 That is your greenhorn； not your
tenderfoot。 Down near Monache meadows we came across an individual
leading an old pack…mare up the trail。 The first thing； he asked us to tell
him where he was。 We did so。 Then we noticed that he carried his gun
muzzle…up in his hip…pocket； which seemed to be a nice way to shoot a
hole in your hand； but a poor way to make your weapon accessible。 He
unpacked near us； and promptly turned the mare into a bog…hole because
it looked green。 Then he stood around the rest of the evening and
talked deprecating talk of a garrulous nature。
〃Which way did you come？〃 asked Wes。
The stranger gave us a hazy account of misnamed canons； by which
we gathered that he had come directly over the rough divide below us。
〃But if you wanted to get to Monache； why didn't you go around to the
eastward through that pass； there； and save yourself all the climb？ It
must have been pretty rough through there。〃
〃Yes； perhaps so；〃 he hesitated。 〃StillI got lots of timeI can take
all summer； if I want to and I'd rather stick to a straight linethen you
know where you AREif you get off the straight line； you're likely to get
lost； you know。〃
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THE MOUNTAINS
We knew well enough what ailed him； of course。 He was a
tenderfoot； of the sort that always； to its dying day； unhobbles its horses
before putting their halters on。 Yet that man for thirty…two years had
lived almost constantly in the wild countries。 He had traveled more
miles with a pack…train than we shall ever dream of traveling； and hardly
could we mention a famous camp of the last quarter century that he had
not blundered into。 Moreover he proved by the indirections of his
misinformation that he had really been there and was not making ghost
stories in order to impress us。 Yet if the Lord spares him thirty…two years
more； at the end of that time he will probably still be carrying his gun
upside down； turning his horse into a bog…hole； and blundering through the
country by main strength and awkwardness。 He was a beautiful type of
the tenderfoot。
The redeeming point of the tenderfoot is his humbleness of spirit and
his extreme good nature。 He exasperates you with his fool performances
to the point of dancing cursing wild crying rage； and then accepts your
well； reproofsso meekly that you come off the boil as though some one
had removed you from the fire； and you feel like a low…browed thug。
Suppose your particular tenderfoot to be named Algernon。 Suppose
him to have packed his horse looselythey always doso that the pack has
slipped； the horse has bucked over three square miles of assorted
mountains； and the rest of the train is scattered over identically that area。
You have run your saddle…horse to a lather heading the outfit。 You have
sworn and dodged and scrambled and yelled； even fired your six…shooter；
to turn them and bunch them。 In the mean time Algernon has either sat
his horse like a park policeman in his leisure hours； or has ambled directly
into your path of pursuit on an average of five times a minute。 Then the
trouble dies from the landscape and the baby bewilderment from his eyes。
You slip from your winded horse and address Algernon with elaborate
courtesy。
〃My dear fellow；〃 you remark； 〃did you not see that the thing for you
to do was to head them down by the bottom of that little gulch there？
Don't you really think ANYBODY would have seen it？ What in hades
do you think I wanted to run my horse all through those boulders for？
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THE MOUNTAINS
Do you think I want to get him lame 'way up here in the hills？ I don't
mind telling a man a thing once； but to tell it to him fifty…eight times and
then have it do no good Have you the faintest recollection of my
instructing you to turn the bight OVER instead of UNDER when you
throw that pack…hitch？ If you'd remember that； we shouldn't have had all
this trouble。〃
〃You didn't tell me to head them by the little gulch；〃 babbles Algernon。
Thi
