white fang(白牙)-第18章
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growl threateningly； ferociously。 She pecked on his nose； which by now；
what of previous adventures was sore。 He winced but held on。 She pecked
him again and again。 From wincing he went to whimpering。 He tried to
back away from her； oblivious to the fact that by his hold on her he
dragged her after him。 A rain of pecks fell on his ill…used nose。 The flood
of fight ebbed down in him； and； releasing his prey； he turned tail and
scampered on across the open in inglorious retreat。
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He lay down to rest on the other side of the open； near the edge of the
bushes； his tongue lolling out； his chest heaving and panting； his nose still
hurting him and causing him to continue his whimper。 But as he lay there；
suddenly there came to him a feeling as of something terrible impending。
The unknown with all its terrors rushed upon him； and he shrank back
instinctively into the shelter of the bush。 As he did so； a draught of air
fanned him； and a large； winged body swept ominously and silently past。
A hawk； driving down out of the blue； had barely missed him。
While he lay in the bush； recovering from his fright and peering
fearfully out； the mother…ptarmigan on the other side of the open space
fluttered out of the ravaged nest。 It was because of her loss that she paid
no attention to the winged bolt of the sky。 But the cub saw； and it was a
warning and a lesson to him … the swift downward swoop of the hawk； the
short skim of its body just above the ground； the strike of its talons in the
body of the ptarmigan； the ptarmigan's squawk of agony and fright； and
the hawk's rush upward into the blue； carrying the ptarmigan away with it；
It was a long time before the cub left its shelter。 He had learned much。
Live things were meat。 They were good to eat。 Also； live things when they
were large enough； could give hurt。 It was better to eat small live things
like ptarmigan chicks； and to let alone large live things like ptarmigan
hens。 Nevertheless he felt a little prick of ambition； a sneaking desire to
have another battle with that ptarmigan hen … only the hawk had carried
her away。 May be there were other ptarmigan hens。 He would go and see。
He came down a shelving bank to the stream。 He had never seen water
before。 The footing looked good。 There were no inequalities of surface。 He
stepped boldly out on it； and went down； crying with fear； into the
embrace of the unknown。 It was cold； and he gasped； breathing quickly。
The water rushed into his lungs instead of the air that had always
accompanied his act of breathing。 The suffocation he experienced was like
the pang of death。 To him it signified death。 He had no conscious
knowledge of death； but like every animal of the Wild； he possessed the
instinct of death。 To him it stood as the greatest of hurts。 It was the very
essence of the unknown； it was the sum of the terrors of the unknown； the
one culminating and unthinkable catastrophe that could happen to him；
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about which he knew nothing and about which he feared everything。
He came to the surface； and the sweet air rushed into his open mouth。
He did not go down again。 Quite as though it had been a long…established
custom of his he struck out with all his legs and began to swim。 The near
bank was a yard away； but he had come up with his back to it； and the first
thing his eyes rested upon was the opposite bank； toward which he
immediately began to swim。 The stream was a small one； but in the pool it
widened out to a score of feet。
Midway in the passage； the current picked up the cub and swept him
downstream。 He was caught in the miniature rapid at the bottom of the
pool。 Here was little chance for swimming。 The quiet water had become
suddenly angry。 Sometimes he was under； sometimes on top。 At all times
he was in violent motion； now being turned over or around； and again；
being smashed against a rock。 And with every rock he struck； he yelped。
His progress was a series of yelps； from which might have been adduced
the number of rocks he encountered。
Below the rapid was a second pool； and here； captured by the eddy； he
was gently borne to the bank； and as gently deposited on a bed of gravel。
He crawled frantically clear of the water and lay down。 He had learned
some more about the world。 Water was not alive。 Yet it moved。 Also； it
looked as solid as the earth； but was without any solidity at all。 His
conclusion was that things were not always what they appeared to be。 The
cub's fear of the unknown was an inherited distrust； and it had now been
strengthened by experience。 Thenceforth； in the nature of things； he would
possess an abiding distrust of appearances。 He would have to learn the
reality of a thing before he could put his faith into it。
One other adventure was destined for him that day。 He had recollected
that there was such a thing in the world as his mother。 And then there came
to him a feeling that he wanted her more than all the rest of the things in
the world。 Not only was his body tired with the adventures it had
undergone； but his little brain was equally tired。 In all the days he had
lived it had not worked so hard as on this one day。 Furthermore； he was
sleepy。 So he started out to look for the cave and his mother； feeling at the
same time an overwhelming rush of loneliness and helplessness。
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He was sprawling along between some bushes； when he heard a sharp
intimidating cry。 There was a flash of yellow before his eyes。 He saw a
weasel leaping swiftly away from him。 It was a small live thing； and he
had no fear。 Then； before him； at his feet； he saw an extremely small live
thing； only several inches long； a young weasel； that； like himself； had
disobediently gone out adventuring。 It tried to retreat before him。 He
turned it over with his paw。 It made a queer； grating noise。 The next
moment the flash of yellow reappeared before his eyes。 He heard again the
intimidating cry； and at the same instant received a sharp blow on the side
of the neck and felt the sharp teeth of the mother…weasel cut into his flesh。
While he yelped and ki…yi'd and scrambled backward； he saw the
mother…weasel leap upon her young one and disappear with it into the
neighbouring thicket。 The cut of her teeth in his neck still hurt； but his
feelings were hurt more grievously； and he sat down and weakly
whimpered。 This mother…weasel was so small and so savage。 He was yet
to learn that for size and weight the weasel was the most ferocious；
vindictive； and terrible of all the killers of the Wild。 But a portion of this
knowledge was quickly to be his。
He was still whimpering when the mother…weasel reappeared。 She did
not rush him； now that her young one was safe。 She approached more
cautiously； and the cub had full opportunity to observe h
