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那些小石雷鸟只不过刚激起了他的胃口。他拖着受伤的脚腕，笨拙地一瘸一拐地跳着追赶，有时边向母石雷鸟扔石头边大声呵斥；有时会一直闷声不响，一瘸一拐地跳着朝前追，摔倒了就勇敢而耐心地爬起来，快要眩晕时，他就用手揉揉眼睛。
The chase led him across swampy ground in the bottom of the valley，and he came upon footprints in the soggy moss. They were not his own—he could see that. They must be Bill's. But he could not stop，for the mother ptarmigan was running on. He would catch her first，then he would return and investigate. He exhausted the mother ptarmigan；but he exhausted himself. She lay panting on her side. He lay panting on his side，a dozen feet away，unable to crawl to her. And as he recovered she recovered，fluttering out of reach as his hungry hand went out to her. The chase was resumed. Night settled down and she escaped. He stumbled from weakness and pitched head foremost on his face，cutting his cheek，his pack upon his back. He did not move for a long while；then he rolled over on his side，wound his watch，and lay there until morning.
他一直追到谷底的沼泽地，发现了潮湿的苔藓上的脚印。这些不是他的——他看得出来。这一定是比尔的脚印。但是他不能停下来，因为母石雷鸟还在继续飞。他要先抓住它，再回来仔细查看。母石雷鸟被追得筋疲力竭，他也累坏了。她侧歪在一边喘着气。他也歪在一边喘着气，离石雷鸟只有十来英尺远，但是没有力气爬过去。等他恢复力气后，石雷鸟也恢复了，当他将饥饿之手再次伸向它时，它又振翅飞到他够不到的地方。追逐又继续了。夜幕降临，母石雷鸟逃脱了。他很虚弱，绊了一跤，头向前栽倒在地上，划破了脸，包袱压在他的背上。很久他都一动不动；然后他翻身侧躺着，给手表上了发条，并在那儿一直躺到第二天早晨。
Another day of fog. Half of his last blanket had gone into foot—wrappings. He failed to pick up Bill's trail. It did not matter. His hunger was driving him too compellingly—only—only he wondered if Bill，too，were lost. By midday the irk of his pack became too oppressive. Again he divided the gold，this time merely spilling half of it on the ground. In the afternoon he threw the rest of it away，there remaining to him only the half—blanket，the tin bucket，and the rifle.
又是雾蒙蒙的一天。他剩下的那条毯子已经有一半被用来包脚了。他无法找到比尔的脚印了。这不重要。饥饿再次令他无法抗拒——可是——可是他还是想知道比尔是不是也迷路了。到中午时，沉重的包袱让他越来越难以忍受了。他又将金子分了分，这次只把一半倒在了地上。下午，他又将剩下的金子也扔掉了，只留下半条毯子、马口铁桶和来复枪。
An hallucination began to trouble him. He felt confident that one cartridge remained to him. It was in the chamber of the rifle and he had overlooked it. On the other hand，he knew all the time that the chamber was empty. But the hallucination persisted. He fought it off for hours，then threw his rifle open and was confronted with emptiness. The disappointment was as bitter as though he had really expected to find the cartridge.
他开始产生幻觉。他觉得肯定还有一粒子弹可以用。子弹就在枪膛里，只是他一直忘了。另一方面，他始终知道枪膛是空的。然而幻觉持续着。好几个小时，他都想击退这种幻觉，于是他干脆打开枪膛，看到的是空无一物。这种失望令他感到痛苦，仿佛他自己原本期待能找到子弹似的。
He plodded on for half an hour，when the hallucination arose again. Again he fought it，and still it persisted，till for very relief he opened his rifle to unconvince himself. At times his mind wandered farther afield，and he plodded on，a mere automaton，strange conceits and whimsicalities gnawing at his brain like worms. But these excursions out of the real were of brief duration，for ever the pangs of the hunger—bite called him back. He was jerked back abruptly once from such an excursion by a sight that caused him nearly to faint. He reeled and swayed，doddering like a drunken man to keep from falling. Before him stood a horse. A horse！He could not believe his eyes. A thick mist was in them，intershot with sparkling points of light. He rubbed his eyes savagely to clear his vision，and beheld，not a horse，but a great brown bear. The animal was studying him with bellicose curiosity.
他拖着沉重的步伐又走了半个小时，这时幻觉又出现了。他再次与幻觉展开斗争，但是它仍萦绕着他，为了摆脱幻觉，他再次打开枪膛以让自己不要相信。有时候，他的思绪会游荡得更远些。他一边像个机器人一样迈着沉重的步子，一边任由怪诞的念头和天马行空的狂想像虫子一样不断啮噬着他的大脑。但是这些非现实的思维旅行都是极短暂的，因为他不断地被饥饿之苦拉回现实。有一次，他突然从幻觉中惊醒过来，看到了几乎令他昏厥的东西。他像喝醉酒似的左右摇晃着以避免跌倒。他面前站着一匹马。一匹马！他简直不敢相信自己的眼睛。眼睛里有一层浓浓的雾，夹杂着星星点点的光。他使劲地揉揉眼睛使自己看清楚，原来看到的并不是马，而是一头棕色的大熊。这头熊正用挑衅的眼神好奇地打量着他。
The man had brought his gun halfway to his shoulder before he realized. He lowered it and drew his hunting—knife from its beaded sheath at his hip. Before him was meat and life. He ran his thumb along the edge of his knife. It was sharp. The point was sharp. He would fling himself upon the bear and kill it. But his heart began its warning thump，thump，thump. Then followed the wild upward leap and tattoo of flutters，the pressing as of an iron band about his forehead，the creeping of the dizziness into his brain.
他已经把枪快举到肩上了，才意识到枪里没有子弹。他放下枪，从屁股后的镶珠刀鞘里抽出他的猎刀。在他面前的是肉和生命。他用大拇指试了试刀刃。刀刃很锋利。刀尖也很锋利。他本来是想扑到熊身上，杀死它的。但是他的心脏又开始了警告性的怦、怦、怦的跳动。紧接而来的是心脏向上猛跳和一阵阵的搏动，额头上也像是被铁箍捆紧了似的，脑袋也渐渐感到眩晕。
His desperate courage was evicted by a great surge of fear. In his weakness，what if the animal attacked him？He drew himself up to his most imposing stature，gripping the knife and staring hard at the bear. The bear advanced clumsily a couple of steps，reared up，and gave vent to a tentative growl. If the man ran，he would run after him；but the man did not run. He was animated now with the courage of fear. He，too，growled，savagely，terribly，voicing the fear that is to life germane and that lies twisted about life's deepest roots.
他不顾一切的勇气被涌起的一阵恐惧驱散了。他很虚弱，如果这头熊攻击他，他该怎么办呢？他挺起身子，摆出最威风的姿势，同时紧握猎刀，死死地盯着这头熊。熊笨拙地向前走了几步，后腿直立起来，发出试探性的咆哮。如果这个人跑的话，它就会追；但是这个人并没有跑。现在，因恐惧而产生的勇气使他振作起来。他也凶狠可怕地咆哮起来，喊出了那种生死攸关的、与生命之根紧密相连的恐惧。
The bear edged away to one side，growling menacingly，himself appalled by this mysterious creature that appeared upright and unafraid. But the man did not move. He stood like a statue till the danger was past，when he yielded to a fit of trembling and sank down into the wet moss.
熊慢慢挪到一边，威胁似的咆哮着，似乎被这个挺得笔直、无所畏惧的神秘动物吓到了。但是这个人一动不动。他像个雕塑一样站着，直到危险结束，这时他才猛地一阵颤抖，瘫倒在潮湿的苔藓上。前半部分到此结束。
He pulled himself together and went on，afraid now in a new way. It was not the fear that he should die passively from lack of food，but that he should be destroyed violently before starvation had exhausted the last particle of the endeavor in him that made toward surviving. There were the wolves. Back and forth across the desolation drifted their howls，weaving the very air into a fabric of menace that was so tangible that he found himself，arms in the air，pressing it back from him as it might be the walls of a wind—blown tent.
他又振作起来，继续前行。现在他有了新的恐惧。他不是害怕被活活饿死，而是担心在饥饿耗掉自己最后一点求生的努力之前，自己就已经被凶残地杀死了。这儿有狼群。狼嗥声在整个荒原回荡，与空气交织成一张极具威胁性的网。这个网是如此真实，以至于他发现自己不自觉地举起了双手，把它向后推，好像这网是被风刮紧了的帐篷壁。
Now and again the wolves，in packs of two and three，crossed his path. But they sheered clear of him. They were not in sufficient numbers，and besides they were hunting the caribou，which did not battle，while this strange creature that walked erect might scratch and bite.
时不时就会有狼出没，它们三三两两地穿过他走的这条路。但是这些狼都避开他。它们的数量不多，而且它们要找的是不会搏斗的驯鹿，而这个直立行走的怪物却可能会又抓又咬的。
In the late afternoon he came upon scattered bones where the wolves had made a kill. The debris had been a caribou calf an hour before，squawking and running and very much alive. He contemplated the bones，clean—picked and polished，pink with the cell—life in them which had not yet died. Could it possibly be that he might be that ere the day was done！Such was life，eh？A vain and fleeting thing. It was only life that pained. There was no hurt in death. To die was to sleep. It meant cessation，rest. Then why was he not content to die？
傍晚时，他发现散在地上的骨头；狼肯定在这儿咬死过动物。这些残骸一个小时以前还是又叫又跑、非常活泼的小驯鹿。他盯着这些被啃得干净而发亮的骨头仔细看，看到骨头中未死的细胞仍泛着粉红色。天黑之前，他会不会也变成这样！这就是生命吗，嗯？一种虚无缥缈而又转瞬即逝的东西。只有活着，才会有痛苦。在死亡里，没有伤害。死就是睡觉。它意味着终结、安息。那么，他为什么不愿去死呢？
But he did not moralize long. He was squatting in the moss，a bone in his mouth，sucking at the shreds of life that still dyed it faintly pink. The sweet meaty taste，thin and elusive almost as a memory，maddened him. He closed his jaws on the bones and crunched. Sometimes it was the bone that broke，sometimes his teeth. Then he crushed the bones between rocks，pounded them to a pulp，and swallowed them. He pounded his fingers，too，in his haste，and yet found a moment in which to feel surprise at the fact that his fingers did not hurt much when caught under the descending rock.
不过他很快就不再想这些大道理了。他蹲在苔藓地上，嘴里衔着一根骨头，吸吮着那些使骨头依然泛红的残余生命组织。甜甜的肉香几乎像回忆一样模糊而无法捉摸，令他疯狂。他紧紧咬着骨头，嘎吱嘎吱地嚼。有时咬碎的是骨头，有时咬碎的是自己的牙。然后他用石块碾碎骨头，把骨头捣成酱，再吞下去。由于心急，他还砸到了自己的手指，但这一刻让他感到惊奇的是，手指在被下落的石头砸到时，自己竟不觉得疼。
Came frightful days of snow and rain. He did not know when he made camp，when he broke camp. He travelled in the night as much as in the day. He rested wherever he fell，crawled on whenever the dying life in him flickered up and burned less dimly. He，as a man，no longer strove. It was the life in him，unwilling to die，that drove him on. He did not suffer. His nerves had become blunted，numb，while his mind was filled with weird visions and delicious dreams.
随后几天都是可怕的雨雪天气。他不知道何时该露宿，何时该整装出发。他日夜兼程。在哪儿摔倒，他就在哪儿休息。只要奄奄一息的生命火花闪烁起来，开始微微燃烧，他就继续缓慢前行。他，作为一个普通人，已不再抗争了。是内在的生命逼着他前进，是它不愿意死。他不再感到痛苦。他的神经已经变得迟钝、麻木，但他的脑海里却充满了不可思议的幻想和美好的梦境。
But ever he sucked and chewed on the crushed bones of the caribou calf，the least remnants of which he had gathered up and carried with him. He crossed no more hills or divides，but automatically followed a large stream which flowed through a wide and shallow valley. He did not see this stream nor this valley. He saw nothing save visions. Soul and body walked or crawled side by side，yet apart，so slender was the thread that bound them.
但他还是吮吸并咀嚼着小驯鹿的碎骨头，这是他收集并随身携带的一点残余。他不再翻山越岭，而是机械地顺着一条大溪流而行，这条溪流流经一片宽广的浅谷。他没有看到溪流，也没有看到峡谷。除了幻象，他什么也没有看到。他没有看到溪流，也没有看到峡谷。除了幻象，他什么也没有看到。他的灵魂和躯体并肩向前走，向前爬，但是它们却是彼此分离的，联系它们的纽带已十分纤弱。
He awoke in his right mind，lying on his back on a rocky ledge. The sun was shining bright and warm. Afar off he heard the squawking of caribou calves. He was aware of vague memories of rain and wind and snow，but whether he had been beaten by the storm for two days or two weeks he did not know.
他醒来时，头脑清醒，仰卧在一块岩石上。太阳发出明亮而温暖的光芒。他听见远处小驯鹿的叫声。他依稀记得曾经有过冷雨、寒风和大雪，但是他到底被暴风雨吹打了两天还是两个星期，他已经记不得了。
For some time he lay without movement，the genial sunshine pouring upon him and saturating his miserable body with its warmth. A fine day，he thought. Perhaps he could manage to locate himself. By a painful effort he rolled over on his side. Below him flowed a wide and sluggish river. Its unfamiliarity puzzled him. Slowly he followed it with his eyes，winding in wide sweeps among the bleak，bare hills，bleaker and barer and lower—lying than any hills he had yet encountered. Slowly，deliberately，without excitement or more than the most casual interest，he followed the course of the strange stream toward the sky—line and saw it emptying into a bright and shining sea. He was still unexcited. Most unusual，he thought，a vision or a mirage—more likely a vision，a trick of his disordered mind. He was confirmed in this by sight of a ship lying at anchor in the midst of the shining sea. He closed his eyes for a while，then opened them. Strange how the vision persisted！Yet not strange. He knew there were no seas or ships in the heart of the barren lands，just as he had known there was no cartridge in the empty rifle.
他一动不动地躺了好一阵子。温暖的阳光洒在他身上，让那饱受磨难的身体沐浴在阳光的暖意中。是个好天气，他想。或许，他能够确定自己的位置。他吃力地翻过身来侧躺着。下面是一条缓缓流动的大河。这条河很陌生，让他困惑不已。他的目光缓缓地跟随着河流望去。只见它蜿蜒流过一段宽广的河道，河两岸的小山荒芜光秃，比以往见过的任何小山还要荒芜、光秃、低矮。他慢慢地、从容地顺着这条陌生的河流望向天边，没有激动之情，或者顶多是带着一种偶然的兴致。他看到河流汇入波光粼粼的大海。但他还是不激动。非常奇怪，他想，也许是幻象或是海市蜃楼——更有可能是幻象，是他错乱的神经捣的鬼。看到一艘船抛锚停泊在波光粼粼的大海中，他更相信这是幻象了。他闭了会眼睛，再睁开。奇怪的是，这种幻象竟依然存在！不过也不奇怪。他知道在这贫瘠土地的中心地带，是没有大海或者船只的，就像他知道他的空枪里没有子弹一样。
He heard a snuffle behind him—a half—choking gasp or cough. Very slowly，because of his exceeding weakness and stiffness，he rolled over on his other side. He could see nothing near at hand，but he waited patiently. Again came the snuffle and cough，and outlined between two jagged rocks not a score of feet away he made out the gray head of a wolf. The sharp ears were not pricked so sharply as he had seen them on other wolves；the eyes were bleared and bloodshot，the head seemed to droop limply and forlornly. The animal blinked continually in the sunshine. It seemed sick. As he looked，it snuffled and coughed again.
他听到身后一阵抽鼻子的声音——像是喘不出气或是咳嗽的声音。因为极度虚弱和僵硬，他非常缓慢地翻了个身，换到另一侧躺着了。他看不到四周有什么东西，但是他耐心地等待着。再一次传来抽鼻子的声音和咳嗽声，他模模糊糊地看到一只灰狼的头，就在离他不到二十英尺远，两块凹凸不平的岩石之间。那双尖耳朵并没有像他以前见过的其他狼的耳朵一样竖得笔直；它的眼睛暗淡无神、充满血丝，脑袋似乎无力而愁闷地耷着。这只动物在太阳光下不停地眨巴着眼睛。它像是病了。当他看它时，它又发出了吸鼻子和咳嗽的声音。
This，at least，was real，he thought，and turned on the other side so that he might see the reality of the world which had been veiled from him before by the vision. But the sea still shone in the distance and the ship was plainly discernible. Was it reality，after all？He closed his eyes for a long while and thought，and then it came to him. He had been making north by east，away from the Dease Divide and into the Coppermine Valley. This wide and sluggish river was the Coppermine. That shining sea was the Arctic Ocean. That ship was a whaler，strayed east，far east，from the mouth of the Mackenzie，and it was lying at anchor in Coronation Gulf. He remembered the Hudson Bay Company chart he had seen long ago，and it was all clear and reasonable to him.
他想，至少这还算是真的，于是转过身又换了一边侧躺着，以便能看清楚之前被幻象所蒙住的真实世界。但是远处的大海仍旧波光粼粼，那艘船依然清晰可见。莫非那是真的？他闭上眼睛，想了很久，终于想明白了。他一直往北偏东的方向走，离开了迪斯分水岭，来到了科珀曼峡谷。这条宽阔而缓慢流淌的河流就是科珀曼河。那波光粼粼的大海就是北冰洋。那船是一艘捕鲸船，本来的目的地是马更些河河口，可由于行驶方向偏东了，太偏东了，现在船抛锚停泊在科罗内申湾。他想起了很久以前看到过的那张哈得孙湾公司的地图，现在的一切对他来说都明朗合理起来。
He sat up and turned his attention to immediate affairs. He had worn through the blanket—wrappings，and his feet were shapeless lumps of raw meat. His last blanket was gone. Rifle and knife were both missing. He had lost his hat somewhere，with the bunch of matches in the band，but the matches against his chest were safe and dry inside the tobacco pouch and oil paper. He looked at his watch. It marked eleven o'clock and was still running. Evidently he had kept it wound.
他坐了起来，开始注意到眼下的事情。他磨破了裹在脚上的毯子，双脚已经不成样子，脚上全是磨烂后露出的伤口。最后一条毯子也被撕完了。来复枪和猎刀也不见了。他弄丢了帽子，卷在帽沿里的火柴也一并丢了，幸好胸前那用油纸包好的火柴还完好无损地躺在烟袋里，还是干的。他看了看表。十一点了，表还在走。显然他一直都记得给表上发条。
He was calm and collected. Though extremely weak，he had no sensation of pain. He was not hungry. The thought of food was not even pleasant to him，and whatever he did was done by his reason alone. He ripped off his pants' legs to the knees and bound them about his feet. Somehow he had succeeded in retaining the tin bucket. He would have some hot water before he began what he foresaw was to be a terrible journey to the ship.
他镇定而沉着。尽管极度虚弱，他并不感到痛苦。他不饿了。甚至想到食物也不会让他兴奋，他所做的一切只是出于理智。他扯掉膝盖以下的裤腿，裹住双脚。不管怎样，他把马口铁桶给保住了。他可以先喝些热水，再开始朝船那儿走，他预感这将是一次可怕的历程。
His movements were slow. He shook as with a palsy. When he started to collect dry moss，he found he could not rise to his feet. He tried again and again，then contented himself with crawling about on hands and knees. Once he crawled near to the sick wolf. The animal dragged itself reluctantly out of his way，licking its chops with a tongue which seemed hardly to have the strength to curl. The man noticed that the tongue was not the customary healthy red. It was a yellowish brown and seemed coated with a rough and half—dry mucus.
他挪得很慢。他像中风了一样哆嗦着。当他准备去收集干苔藓时，竟发现自己无法站起来了。他一次又一次地尝试，最后只得无可奈何地借着手和膝盖爬行前进。他一度爬着靠近了那只病狼。狼只好拖着身体不情愿地避开，用那条似乎没有力气卷起来的舌头舔了嘴巴一圈。他发现狼舌头的颜色并非通常的那种健康的红色。舌头微微泛着棕黄，似乎被一层粗糙且半干的黏膜包着。
After he had drunk a quart of hot water the man found he was able to stand，and even to walk as well as a dying man might be supposed to walk. Every minute or so he was compelled to rest. His steps were feeble and uncertain，just as the wolf's that trailed him were feeble and uncertain；and that night，when the shining sea was blotted out by blackness，he knew he was nearer to it by no more than four miles.
他喝完一些热水后，发现自己可以站起来走了，甚至能像想象中奄奄一息的人那样走路了。几乎每走一两分钟，他就要休息一下。他走起路来软弱无力、摇摇晃晃，就像那头跟踪他的狼一样不稳和虚弱；那天晚上，当波光粼粼的大海被黑暗笼罩时，他知道他只朝大海走了不过四英里远。
Throughout the night he heard the cough of the sick wolf，and now and then the squawking of the caribou calves. There was life all around him，but it was strong life，very much alive and well，and he knew the sick wolf clung to the sick man's trail in the hope that the man would die first. In the morning，on opening his eyes，he beheld it regarding him with a wistful and hungry stare. It stood crouched，with tail between its legs，like a miserable and woe—begone dog. It shivered in the chill morning wind，and grinned dispiritedly when the man spoke to it in a voice that achieved no more than a hoarse whisper.
整晚他都听到病狼的咳嗽声，偶尔也听到小驯鹿的叫声。围绕他的都是生命，但是那生命是强壮的、健康的、富有生气的。他也知道这只病狼一路紧跟着他，一心期待着人能先死。早上，他一睁开眼，就看到狼正盯着他，眼神中流露出无限的渴望和期盼。狼夹着尾巴蜷缩在地上，像一只异常悲惨不幸的狗。它在早晨的寒风中瑟瑟发抖。当这个人用类似沙哑的耳语冲它嘶喊时，它就沮丧地龇牙咧嘴。
The sun rose brightly，and all morning the man tottered and fell toward the ship on the shining sea. The weather was perfect. It was the brief Indian Summer of the high latitudes. It might last a week. Tomorrow or next day it might be gone.
太阳灿烂地升起，整个早上，他都步履蹒跚，朝着波光粼粼的大海里那艘船走去。天气非常好。这真是高纬度地方转瞬即逝的小阳春。这种天气也许会持续一个星期。也许随后一两天就会结束。
In the afternoon the man came upon a trail. It was of another man，who did not walk，but who dragged himself on all fours. The man thought it might be Bill，but he thought in a dull，uninterested way. He had no curiosity. In fact，sensation and emotion had left him. He was no longer susceptible to pain. Stomach and nerves had gone to sleep. Yet the life that was in him drove him on. He was very weary，but it refused to die. It was because it refused to die that he still ate muskeg berries and minnows，drank his hot water，and kept a wary eye on the sick wolf.
下午这人看到了一些痕迹。这是另一个人的痕迹，不过不是双脚步行，而是用四肢爬行留下的。他觉得这个人也许是比尔，不过他也只是隐约淡漠地那么一想。他并不好奇。实际上，他已经没有知觉和感情了。他也觉察不到痛苦。他的胃和神经已经睡着了。可是内在的生命仍在驱使他前进。他已疲惫不堪，但是内在的生命却拒绝死去。正是因为它拒绝死亡，他才靠沼泽地里的浆果、小鲦鱼和热水来维生，并时刻警惕着那只病狼。
He followed the trail of the other man who dragged himself along，and soon came to the end of it—a few fresh—picked bones where the soggy moss was marked by the foot—pads of many wolves. He saw a squat moose—hide sack，mate to his own，which had been torn by sharp teeth. He picked it up，though its weight was almost too much for his feeble fingers. Bill had carried it to the last. Ha！ha！He would have the laugh on Bill. He would survive and carry it to the ship in the shining sea. His mirth was hoarse and ghastly，like a raven's croak，and the sick wolf joined him，howling lugubriously. The man ceased suddenly. How could he have the laugh on Bill if that were Bill；if those bones，so pinky—white and clean，were Bill？
他跟随着另一个人向前爬行的痕迹，不久就走到了痕迹的尽头——见到一些刚被啃光的骨头，这儿潮湿的苔藓上还留有狼群的脚印。他看到一个自己也有的那种厚实的鹿皮袋，不过袋子已经被锋利的牙齿撕裂了。袋子很重，他无力的双手很难提动，但他最终还是提了起来。这是比尔到最后一刻都随身携带的东西。哈！哈！他要嘲笑比尔。他要活下去，把袋子带到波光粼粼的大海里那艘船上去。他沙哑的笑声让人觉得可怕，像乌鸦嘎嘎的叫声，而那只病狼也跟他一起发出哀嚎声。突然，这人停住了。如果这些白里泛红、被啃光的骸骨是比尔的话；如果它们真是比尔的，他怎么能嘲笑他呢？
He turned away. Well，Bill had deserted him；but he would not take the gold，nor would he suck Bill's bones. Bill would have，though，had it been the other way around，he mused as he staggered on. He came to a pool of water. Stooping over in quest of minnows，he jerked his head back as though he had been stung. He had caught sight of his reflected face. So horrible was it that sensibility awoke long enough to be shocked. There were three minnows in the pool，which was too large to drain；and after several ineffectual attempts to catch them in the tin bucket he forbore. He was afraid，because of his great weakness，that he might fall in and drown. It was for this reason that he did not trust himself to the river astride one of the many drift—logs which lined its sand—spits. That day he decreased the distance between him and the ship by three miles；the next day by two—for he was crawling now as Bill had crawled；and the end of the fifth day found the ship still seven miles away and him unable to make even a mile a day. Still the Indian Summer held on，and he continued to crawl and faint，turn and turn about；and ever the sick wolf coughed and wheezed at his heels. His knees had become raw meat like his feet，and though he padded them with the shirt from his back it was a red track he left behind him on the moss and stones. Once，glancing back，he saw the wolf licking hungrily his bleeding trail，and he saw sharply what his own end might be—unless—unless he could get the wolf. Then began as grim a tragedy of existence as was ever played—a sick man that crawled，a sick wolf that limped，two creatures dragging their dying carcasses across the desolation and hunting each other's lives.
他转身离开了。是的，比尔是抛弃了他；但是他不会拿走比尔的金子，也不会去吮吸他的骨头。不过，换作比尔遇到这种情况，也许他会那样做。他一边暗自想着这些，一边摇摇晃晃地向前走。他来到一个水坑旁。弯腰寻找小鲦鱼时，他突然抬起头，像是被什么戳到了。原来他是瞥见了自己倒映在水中的脸。那张脸如此可怕，以至于他突然恢复了知觉，惊愕了好一阵。水坑里有三条小鲦鱼，但是水坑太大，水没办法舀干；他就用马口铁桶去抓，但几次努力未果之后，他放弃了。由于身体极度虚弱，他很怕自己会跌进水里淹死。也正是这个原因，使他不敢跨上那些与河流的沙嘴平行漂流的圆木，顺着河流前行。那一天，他往船的方向靠近了三英里；第二天又靠近了两英里——因为他现在是像比尔一样爬着前进；到第五天末的时候，他发现自己离船还有七英里，而他连一英里也挪不动了。还是小阳春天气，他不断地爬着前行，也不断地晕倒，辗转不停；而那只病狼始终跟在他的后面，不停地咳嗽，呼哧呼哧地喘气。他的膝盖也像脚一样皮开肉绽，流着血。尽管他已经从身上撕下衬衫垫在膝盖下，但所经之处的苔藓和岩石上还是留下了斑斑血迹。有一次，他转过头去，看见狼正如饥似渴地舔着他留下的血迹，他清楚地看到了自己可能的结局——除非——除非他杀死这只狼。于是，像所有上演过的残酷的求生悲剧一样，他们之间也开始了这样的悲剧——一个虚弱的人爬着，一只病狼跛行跟着，两条生命都拖着垂死的躯体在荒原中穿行，互相觊觎着彼此的生命。
Had it been a well wolf，it would not have mattered so much to the man；but the thought of going to feed the maw of that loathsome and all but dead thing was repugnant to him. He was finicky. His mind had begun to wander again，and to be perplexed by hallucinations，while his lucid intervals grew rarer and shorter.
如果这是一只健康的狼，他不会太计较；但是一想到自己将成为这只令人厌恶的、奄奄一息的狼的美食时，他就觉得恶心。他是很苛求讲究的。他的脑子又开始恍惚，又开始出现令他迷惑的幻象，他越来越难以保持头脑的清醒。
He was awakened once from a faint by a wheeze close in his ear. The wolf leaped lamely back，losing its footing and falling in its weakness. It was ludicrous，but he was not amused. Nor was he even afraid. He was too far gone for that. But his mind was for the moment clear，and he lay and considered. The ship was no more than four miles away. He could see it quite distinctly when he rubbed the mists out of his eyes，and he could see the white sail of a small boat cutting the water of the shining sea. But he could never crawl those four miles. He knew that，and was very calm in the knowledge. He knew that he could not crawl half a mile. And yet he wanted to live. It was unreasonable that he should die after all he had undergone. Fate asked too much of him. And，dying，he declined to die. It was stark madness，perhaps，but in the very grip of Death he defied Death and refused to die.
有一次，耳边的喘息声把他从昏迷中惊醒。这只狼立刻跛着跳了回去，由于虚弱，它摔了一跤。它跌倒的样子很滑稽，但是他并不觉得好笑。他甚至也不觉得可怕。他已经这样了，还有什么好怕的。这一刻他的脑子很清醒，他躺在那儿思考着。船只有四英里远了。他擦去眼里的薄雾就可以看清那艘船，也能看到一艘带着白帆的小船在波光粼粼的海上破浪前行。但是他再也爬不完这四英里路了。他知道这一点，知道后也还是很平静。他知道他连半英里路都爬不动了。然而他想活下去。如果他在经历了千难万苦之后还是死去了，那也太不公平了。命运对他苛求太多。虽然他奄奄一息，但是他不想死。或许，这真是个疯狂的想法，但是就算是到了死神的手里，他也要反抗，也不愿意死。
He closed his eyes and composed himself with infinite precaution. He steeled himself to keep above the suffocating languor that lapped like a rising tide through all the wells of his being. It was very like a sea，this deadly languor，that rose and rose and drowned his consciousness bit by bit. Sometimes he was all but submerged，swimming through oblivion with a faltering stroke；and again，by some strange alchemy of soul，he would find another shred of will and strike out more strongly.
他闭上眼睛，让自己镇静，但是极其谨慎。令人窒息的倦怠像涨潮一样涌向全身各处，但是他竭力使自己坚强，不被这种倦怠击垮。这种致命的倦怠就像海水，一浪高过一浪，一点点地吞噬他的意识。有时，他就快被淹没了，只能颤颤巍巍地游过无人知晓的角落；有时，借着心灵的神奇作用，他又会获得一股力量，更加奋力地向前划水。
Without movement he lay on his back，and he could hear，slowly drawing near and nearer，the wheezing intake and output of the sick wolf's breath. It drew closer，ever closer，through an infinitude of time，and he did not move. It was at his ear. The harsh dry tongue grated like sandpaper against his cheek. His hands shot out—or at least he willed them to shoot out. The fingers were curved like talons，but they closed on empty air. Swiftness and certitude require strength，and the man had not this strength.
他仰面躺着，一动不动，并且能听到病狼呼吸的喘气声慢慢朝他逼近。声音不断朝他逼近，这样持续了很久，他没有动。狼来到了他的耳边。粗糙而干燥的舌头像砂纸一样蹭着他的脸颊。他猛地伸出双手——或者至少是努力伸出双手。手指弯成爪子状，但是什么也没有抓到。要有力气才能确保又快又准，而他力气不够。
The patience of the wolf was terrible. The man's patience was no less terrible. For half a day he lay motionless，fighting off unconsciousness and waiting for the thing that was to feed upon him and upon which he wished to feed. Sometimes the languid sea rose over him and he dreamed long dreams；but ever through it all，waking and dreaming，he waited for the wheezing breath and the harsh caress of the tongue.
狼的耐心令人感到可怕。而这个人的耐心同样可怕。他一动不动地躺了半日，一直都在与昏迷进行争，也在等着那只想要吃掉他，而他也想吃掉的狼。有时，疲倦像海水一样涌来，淹没了他，他做了很长的梦；但是自始至终，不管是醒着还是在梦中，他都在等待着那喘息声和粗糙舌头的摩擦。
He did not hear the breath，and he slipped slowly from some dream to the feel of the tongue along his hand. He waited. The fangs pressed softly；the pressure increased；the wolf was exerting its last strength in an effort to sink teeth in the food for which it had waited so long. But the man had waited long，and the lacerated hand closed on the jaw. Slowly，while the wolf struggled feebly and the hand clutched feebly，the other hand crept across to a grip. Five minutes later the whole weight of the man's body was on top of the wolf. The hands had not sufficient strength to choke the wolf，but the face of the man was pressed close to the throat of the wolf and the mouth of the man was full of hair. At the end of half an hour the man was aware of a warm trickle in his throat. It was not pleasant. It was like molten lead being forced into his stomach，and it was forced by his will alone. Later the man rolled over on his back and slept.
他并没有听到喘息声，当他渐渐从梦中醒来时，只感觉有舌头在舔他的手。他等待着。狼牙轻轻地抵住他的手，且越来越用力；接着，狼竭力使出最后一丝气力，死死咬住它等待已久的食物。但是这个人等了很久，然后他用那只受伤的手抓住了狼的下颚。狼的反抗渐渐减弱，他的手也渐渐抓不牢。这时，他的另一只手缓慢地摸过来，一下子抓住了狼。五分钟以后，这个人的整个身体都压在了狼身上。他双手再也使不出多余的力气扼死狼，他只能用脸紧紧地顶住狼的喉咙，满嘴都是狼毛。半个小时以后，这个人感觉到喉咙里流进一丝暖流。味道并不好。这股液体像是被强行灌进胃里的铅液，完全是靠意志力来完成的。不久，这个人翻了个身，仰面睡了。
There were some members of a scientific expedition on the whale—ship BEDFORD. From the deck they remarked a strange object on the shore. It was moving down the beach toward the water. They were unable to classify it，and，being scientific men，they climbed into the whale—boat alongside and went ashore to see. And they saw something that was alive but which could hardly be called a man. It was blind，unconscious. It squirmed along the ground like some monstrous worm. Most of its efforts were ineffectual，but it was persistent，and it writhed and twisted and went ahead perhaps a score of feet an hour.
一些科学探险队的队员在那艘名为 “贝德福德” 号的捕鲸船上。他们站在甲板上，看到岸上有一个奇怪的物体。它正沿着沙滩爬向大海。他们不能确定是什么物体，身为科研人员，他们爬上了旁边的一艘捕鲸用的小船，驶到岸边，上岸查看。他们看到了某种活物，但很难称其为人。它已经瞎了，毫无知觉。它沿着地面慢慢爬着，像一条巨大的虫子。大多数时候，它的努力都是徒劳的，但它仍坚持不懈。它不断地翻滚着、扭动着前进，这样，一个小时或许可以爬二十英尺。
Three weeks afterward the man lay in a bunk on the whale—ship BEDFORD，and with tears streaming down his wasted cheeks told who he was and what he had undergone. He also babbled incoherently of his mother，of sunny Southern California，and a home among the orange groves and flowers.
三个星期后，这个人躺在 “贝德福德” 号的一个铺位上，告诉他们他是谁，以及他所经历的一切，眼泪顺着他那消瘦的脸颊止不住地流了下来。他还含糊不清、断断续续地说到了他的母亲，说到了阳光灿烂的南加利福尼亚，以及桔树丛和花丛簇拥着的家。
The days were not many after that when he sat at table with the scientific men and ship's officers. He gloated over the spectacle of so much food，watching it anxiously as it went into the mouths of others. With the disappearance of each mouthful an expression of deep regret came into his eyes. He was quite sane，yet he hated those men at mealtime. He was haunted by a fear that the food would not last. He inquired of the cook，the cabin—boy，the captain，concerning the food stores. They reassured him countless times；but he could not believe them，and pried cunningly about the lazarette to see with his own eyes.
不久之后，他就能与那些科研人员和船员同桌吃饭了。他如饥似渴地看着如此丰富的食物，当看到别人吃东西时，他就非常焦虑。每当别人吃完一口，他的眼神就流露出深深的遗憾。他神智很正常，但是一到吃饭时，他就会恨这些人。他总是担心食物不够。他向厨师、服务员和船长打听他们还有多少储备粮。他们多次让他宽心；但他就是不相信，还狡猾地亲自到贮藏室附近查看。
It was noticed that the man was getting fat. He grew stouter with each day. The scientific men shook their heads and theorized. They limited the man at his meals，but still his girth increased and he swelled prodigiously under his shirt.
人们注意到，这个人在发胖。每天，他都会胖一些。那些科研人员摇了摇头，并给出理论推断。他们控制了他的食量，但是他的腰仍在变粗，身体仍在发胖，衬衣被撑得满满的。
The sailors grinned. They knew. And when the scientific men set a watch on the man，they knew too. They saw him slouch forward after breakfast，and，like a mendicant，with outstretched palm，accost a sailor. The sailor grinned and passed him a fragment of sea biscuit. He clutched it avariciously，looked at it as a miser looks at gold，and thrust it into his shirt bosom. Similar were the donations from other grinning sailors.
船员们咧嘴笑了。他们明白了。当科研人员监视他时，他们也明白了。他们看到他早饭后无精打采地走着，像个乞丐一样向水手伸出手。那个水手咧嘴一笑，递给他一块压缩饼干。他贪婪地将之紧紧抓住，像守财奴瞅着金子一样地瞅着它，然后迅速将它塞到衬衣里。其他水手也笑着给他差不多的东西。
The scientific men were discreet. They let him alone. But they privily examined his bunk. It was lined with hardtack；the mattress was stuffed with hardtack；every nook and cranny was filled with hardtack. Yet he was sane. He was taking precautions against another possible famine—that was all. He would recover from it，the scientific men said；and he did，ere the BEDFORD 'S anchor rumbled down in San Francisco Bay.
这些科研人员行事谨慎。他们不管他。但是他们会偷偷检查他的铺位。床铺上面摆了一排排的硬饼干；被褥里也塞满了硬饼干；到处都塞满了硬饼干。但是他神志正常。他只是在防范可能再次出现的饥荒——就是这样。他会恢复正常，科研人员说；在 “贝德福德” 号还没有到圣弗朗西斯科湾停泊前，他就做到了。
（The End. ）
（完。）