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野性的呼唤
|
7、呼唤之声
3
/
22
The
months
came
and
went
,
and
back
and
forth
they
twisted
through
the
uncharted
vastness
,
where
no
men
were
and
yet
where
men
had
been
if
the
Lost
Cabin
were
true
.
They
went
across
divides
in
summer
blizzards
,
shivered
under
the
midnight
sun
on
naked
mountains
between
the
timber
line
and
the
eternal
snows
,
dropped
into
summer
valleys
amid
swarming
gnats
and
flies
,
and
in
the
shadows
of
glaciers
picked
strawberries
and
flowers
as
ripe
and
fair
as
any
the
Southland
could
boast
.
In
the
fall
of
the
year
they
penetrated
a
weird
lake
country
,
sad
and
silent
,
where
wildfowl
had
been
,
but
where
then
there
was
no
life
nor
sign
of
life
––
only
the
blowing
of
chill
winds
,
the
forming
of
ice
in
sheltered
places
,
and
the
melancholy
rippling
of
waves
on
lonely
beaches
.
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And
through
another
winter
they
wandered
on
the
obliterated
trails
of
men
who
had
gone
before
.
Once
,
they
came
upon
a
path
blazed
through
the
forest
,
an
ancient
path
,
and
the
Lost
Cabin
seemed
very
near
.
But
the
path
began
nowhere
and
ended
nowhere
,
and
it
remained
mystery
,
as
the
man
who
made
it
and
the
reason
he
made
it
remained
mystery
.
Another
time
they
chanced
upon
the
time
–
graven
wreckage
of
a
hunting
lodge
,
and
amid
the
shreds
of
rotted
blankets
John
Thornton
found
a
long
–
barrelled
flint
–
lock
.
He
knew
it
for
a
Hudson
Bay
Company
gun
of
the
young
days
in
the
Northwest
,
when
such
a
gun
was
worth
its
height
in
beaver
skins
packed
flat
,
And
that
was
all
––
no
hint
as
to
the
man
who
in
an
early
day
had
reared
the
lodge
and
left
the
gun
among
the
blankets
.
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野性的呼唤
|
7、呼唤之声
3
/
22
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