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！
he night。 The woods never seemed so vast and mysterious。 The trees are gigantic。 There are noises that we do not understand； mysterious winds passing overhead； and rambling in the great galleries； tree…trunks grinding against each other； undefinable stirs and uneasinesses。 The shapes of those who pass into the dimness are outlined in monstrous proportions。 The spectres； seated about in the glare of the fire； talk about appearances and presentiments and religion。 The guides cheer the night with bear…fights； and catamount encounters； and frozen…to…death experiences； and simple tales of great prolixity and no point； and jokes of primitive lucidity。 We hear catamounts； and the stealthy tread of things in the leaves； and the hooting of owls； and； when the moon rises； the laughter of the loon。 Everything is strange； spectral； fascinating。
By and by we get our positions in the shanty for the night； and arrange the row of sleepers。 The shanty has become a smoke…house by this time： waves of smoke roll into it from the fire。 It is only by lying down； and getting the head well under the eaves； that one can breathe。 No one can find her 〃things〃； nobody has a pillow。 At length the row is laid out； with the solemn protestation of intention to sleep。 The wind； shifting； drives away the smoke。
Good…night is said a hundred times； positions are readjusted； more last words； new shifting about； final remarks； it is all so comfortable and romantic； and then silence。 Silence continues for a minute。 The fire flashes up； all the row of heads is lifted up simultaneously to watch it； showers of sparks sail aloft into the blue night； the vast vault of greenery is a fairy spectacle。 How the sparks mount and twinkle and disappear like tropical fireflies； and all the leaves murmur； and clap their hands！ Some of the sparks do not go out： we see them flaming in the sky when the flame of the fire has died down。 Well； good…night； goodnight。 More folding of the arms to sleep； more grumbling about the hardness of a hand…bag； or the insufficiency of a pocket…handkerchief； for a pillow。 Good… night。 Was that a remark？something about a root； a stub in the ground sticking into the back。 〃You couldn't lie along a hair？〃… 〃Well； no： here's another stub。 It needs but a moment for the conversation to become general；about roots under the shoulder； stubs in the back； a ridge on which it is impossible for the sleeper to balance； the non…elasticity of boughs； the hardness of the ground； the heat； the smoke； the chilly air。 Subjects of remarks multiply。 The whole camp is awake； and chattering like an aviary。 The owl is also awake； but the guides who are asleep outside make more noise than the owls。 Water is wanted； and is handed about in a dipper。 Everybody is yawning； everybody is now determined to go to sleep in good earnest。 A last good…night。 There is an appalling silence。 It is interrupted in the most natural way in the world。 Somebody has got the start； and gone to sleep。 He proclaims the fact。 He seems to have been brought up on the seashore； and to know how to make all the deep…toned noises of the restless ocean。 He is also like a war… horse； or； it is suggested； like a saw…horse。 How malignantly he snorts； and breaks off short； and at once begins again in another key！ One head is raised after another。
〃Who is that？〃
〃Somebody punch him。〃
〃Turn him over。〃
〃Reason with him。〃
The sleeper is turned over。 The turn was a mistake。 He was before； it appears； on his most agreeable side。 The camp rises in indignation。 The sleeper sits up in bewilderment。 Before he can go off again； two or three others have preceded him。 They are all alike。 You never can judge what a person is when he is awake。 There are here half a dozen disturbers of the peace who should be put in solitary confinement。 At midnight； when a philosopher crawls out to sit on a log by the fire； and smoke a pipe； a duet in tenor and mezzo…soprano is going on in the shanty； with a chorus always coming in at the wrong time。 Those who are not asleep want to know why the smoker doesn't go to bed。 He is requested to get some water； to throw on another log； to see what time it is； to note whether it looks like rain。 A buzz of conversation arises。 She is sure she heard something behind the shanty。 He says it is all nonsense。 〃Perhaps； however； it might be a mouse。〃
〃Mercy！ Are there mice？〃
〃Plenty。〃
〃Then that's what I heard nibbling by my head。 I shan't sleep a wink！ Do they bite？〃
〃No； they nibble； scarcely ever take a full bite out。〃
〃It's horrid！〃
Towards morning it grows chilly； the guides have let the fire go out； the blankets will slip down。 Anxiety begins to be expressed about the dawn。
〃What time does the sun rise？〃
〃Awful early。 Did you sleep？
〃Not a wink。 And you？〃
〃In spots。 I'm going to dig up this root as soon as it is light enough。〃
〃See that mist on the lake； and the light just coming on the Gothics！ I'd no idea it was so cold： all the first part of the night I was roasted。〃
〃What were they talking about all night？
When the party crawls out to the early breakfast； after it has washed its faces in the lake； it is disorganized； but cheerful。 Nobody admits much sleep； but everybody is refreshed； and declares it delightful。 It is the fresh air all night that invigorates； or maybe it is the tea； or the slap…jacks。 The guides have erected a table of spruce bark； with benches at the sides； so that breakfast is taken in form。 It is served on tin plates and oak chips。 After breakfast begins the day's work。 It may be a mountain…climbing expedition； or rowing and angling in the lake； or fishing for trout in some stream two or three miles distant。 Nobody can stir far from camp without a guide。 Hammocks are swung； bowers are built novel…reading begins； worsted work appears； cards are shuffled and dealt。 The day passes in absolute freedom from responsibility to one's self。 At night when the expeditions return； the camp resumes its animation。 Adventures are recounted； every statement of the narrator being disputed and argued。 Everybody has become an adept in woodcraft； but nobody credits his neighbor with like instinct。 Society getting resolved into its elements； confidence is gone。
Whilst the hilarious party are at supper； a drop or two of rain falls。 The head guide is appealed to。 Is it going to rain？ He says it does rain。 But will it be a rainy night？ The guide goes down to the lake； looks at the sky； and concludes that； if the wind shifts a p'int more； there is no telling what sort of weather we shall have。 Meantime the drops patter thicker on the leaves overhead； and the leaves； in turn； pass the water down to the table； the sky darkens； the wind rises； there is a kind of shiver in the woods； and we scud away into the shanty； taking the remains of our supper； and eating it as best we can。 The rain increases。 The fire sputters and fumes。 All the trees are dripping； dripping； and the ground is wet。 We cannot step outdoors without getting a drenching。 Like sheep； we are penned in the little hut； where no one can stand erect。 The rain swirls into the open front； and wets the bottom of