the complete writings-3-第1部分

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The　Complete　Writings　of　Charles　Dudley　Warner　Volume　3

by　Charles　Dudley　Warner




CONTENTS：

IN　THE　WILDERNESS
HOW　SPRING　CAME　IN　NEW　ENGLAND
CAPTAIN　JOHN　SMITH
POCOHANTAS





IN　THE　WILDERNESS




HOW　I　KILLED　A　BEAR

So　many　conflicting　accounts　have　appeared　about　my　casual　encounter　with　an　Adirondack　bear　last　summer　that　in　justice　to　the　public；　to　myself；　and　to　the　bear；　it　is　necessary　to　make　a　plain　statement　of　the　facts。　　Besides；　it　is　so　seldom　I　have　occasion　to　kill　a　bear；　that　the　celebration　of　the　exploit　may　be　excused。

The　encounter　was　unpremeditated　on　both　sides。　　I　was　not　hunting　for　a　bear；　and　I　have　no　reason　to　suppose　that　a　bear　was　looking　for　me。　　The　fact　is；　that　we　were　both　out　blackberrying；　and　met　by　chance；　the　usual　way。　　There　is　among　the　Adirondack　visitors　always　a　great　deal　of　conversation　about　bears；a　general　expression　of　the　wish　to　see　one　in　the　woods；　and　much　speculation　as　to　how　a　person　would　act　if　he　or　she　chanced　to　meet　one。　　But　bears　are　scarce　and　timid；　and　appear　only　to　a　favored　few。

It　was　a　warm　day　in　August；　just　the　sort　of　day　when　an　adventure　of　any　kind　seemed　impossible。　　But　it　occurred　to　the　housekeepers　at　our　cottagethere　were　four　of　themto　send　me　to　the　clearing；　on　the　mountain　back　of　the　house；　to　pick　blackberries。　　It　was　rather　a　series　of　small　clearings；　running　up　into　the　forest；　much　overgrown　with　bushes　and　briers；　and　not　unromantic。　　Cows　pastured　there；　penetrating　through　the　leafy　passages　from　one　opening　to　another；　and　browsing　among　the　bushes。　　I　was　kindly　furnished　with　a　six…quart　pail；　and　told　not　to　be　gone　long。

Not　from　any　predatory　instinct；　but　to　save　appearances；　I　took　a　gun。　　It　adds　to　the　manly　aspect　of　a　person　with　a　tin　pail　if　he　also　carries　a　gun。　　It　was　possible　I　might　start　up　a　partridge；　though　how　I　was　to　hit　him；　if　he　started　up　instead　of　standing　still；　puzzled　me。　　Many　people　use　a　shotgun　for　partridges。　　I　prefer　the　rifle：　it　makes　a　clean　job　of　death；　and　does　not　prematurely　stuff　the　bird　with　globules　of　lead。　　The　rifle　was　a　Sharps；　carrying　a　ball　cartridge　（ten　to　the　pound）；an　excellent　weapon　belonging　to　a　friend　of　mine；　who　had　intended；　for　a　good　many　years　back；　to　kill　a　deer　with　it。　　He　could　hit　a　tree　with　it　if　the　wind　did　not　blow；　and　the　atmosphere　was　just　right；　and　the　tree　was　not　too　far　offnearly　every　time。　　Of　course；　the　tree　must　have　some　size。　　Needless　to　say　that　I　was　at　that　time　no　sportsman。　　Years　ago　I　killed　a　robin　under　the　most　humiliating　circumstances。　　The　bird　was　in　a　low　cherry…tree。　　I　loaded　a　big　shotgun　pretty　full；　crept　up　under　the　tree；　rested　the　gun　on　the　fence；　with　the　muzzle　more　than　ten　feet　from　the　bird；　shut　both　eyes；　and　pulled　the　trigger。　　When　I　got　up　to　see　what　had　happened；　the　robin　was　scattered　about　under　the　tree　in　more　than　a　thousand　pieces；　no　one　of　which　was　big　enough　to　enable　a　naturalist　to　decide　from　it　to　what　species　it　belonged。　　This　disgusted　me　with　the　life　of　a　sportsman。　　I　mention　the　incident　to　show　that；　although　I　went　blackberrying　armed；　there　was　not　much　inequality　between　me　and　the　bear。

In　this　blackberry…patch　bears　had　been　seen。　　The　summer　before；　our　colored　cook；　accompanied　by　a　little　girl　of　the　vicinage；　was　picking　berries　there　one　day；　when　a　bear　came　out　of　the　woods；　and　walked　towards　them。　　The　girl　took　to　her　heels；　and　escaped。　　Aunt　Chloe　was　paralyzed　with　terror。　　Instead　of　attempting　to　run；　she　sat　down　on　the　ground　where　she　was　standing；　and　began　to　weep　and　scream；　giving　herself　up　for　lost。　　The　bear　was　bewildered　by　this　conduct。　　He　approached　and　looked　at　her；　he　walked　around　and　surveyed　her。　　Probably　he　had　never　seen　a　colored　person　before；　and　did　not　know　whether　she　would　agree　with　him：　at　any　rate；　after　watching　her　a　few　moments；　he　turned　about；　and　went　into　the　forest。　　This　is　an　authentic　instance　of　the　delicate　consideration　of　a　bear；　and　is　much　more　remarkable　than　the　forbearance　towards　the　African　slave　of　the　well…known　lion；　because　the　bear　had　no　thorn　in　his　foot。

When　I　had　climbed　the　hill；I　set　up　my　rifle　against　a　tree；　and　began　picking　berries；　lured　on　from　bush　to　bush　by　the　black　gleam　of　fruit　（that　always　promises　more　in　the　distance　than　it　realizes　when　you　reach　it）；　penetrating　farther　and　farther；　through　leaf…　shaded　cow…paths　flecked　with　sunlight；　into　clearing　after　clearing。　I　could　hear　on　all　sides　the　tinkle　of　bells；　the　cracking　of　sticks；　and　the　stamping　of　cattle　that　were　taking　refuge　in　the　thicket　from　the　flies。　　Occasionally；　as　I　broke　through　a　covert；　I　encountered　a　meek　cow；　who　stared　at　me　stupidly　for　a　second；　and　then　shambled　off　into　the　brush。　　I　became　accustomed　to　this　dumb　society；　and　picked　on　in　silence；　attributing　all　the　wood　noises　to　the　cattle；　thinking　nothing　of　any　real　bear。　　In　point　of　fact；　however；　I　was　thinking　all　the　time　of　a　nice　romantic　bear；　and　as　I　picked；　was　composing　a　story　about　a　generous　she…bear　who　had　lost　her　cub；　and　who　seized　a　small　girl　in　this　very　wood；　carried　her　tenderly　off　to　a　cave；　and　brought　her　up　on　bear's　milk　and　honey。　　When　the　girl　got　big　enough　to　run　away；　moved　by　her　inherited　instincts；　she　escaped；　and　came　into　the　valley　to　her　father's　house　（this　part　of　the　story　was　to　be　worked　out；　so　that　the　child　would　know　her　father　by　some　family　resemblance；　and　have　some　language　in　which　to　address　him）；　and　told　him　where　the　bear　lived。　　The　father　took　his　gun；　and；　guided　by　the　unfeeling　daughter；　went　into　the　woods　and　shot　the　bear；　who　never　made　any　resistance；　and　only；　when　dying；　turned　reproachful　eyes　upon　her　murderer。　　The　moral　of　the　tale　was　to　be　kindness　to　animals。

I　was　in　the　midst　of　this　tale　when　I　happened　to　look　some　rods　away　to　the　other　edge　of　the　clearing；　and　there　was　a　bear！　　He　was　standing　on　his　hind　legs；　and　doing　just　what　I　was　doing；picking　blackberries。　　With　one　paw　he　bent　down　the　bush；　while　with　the　other　he　clawed　the　berries　into　his　mouth；green　ones　and　all。　　To　say　that　I　was　astonished　is　inside　the　mark。　　I　suddenly　discovered　that　I　didn't　want　to　see　a　bear；　after　all。　　At　about　the　same　moment　the　bear　saw　me；　stopped　eating　berries；　and　regarded　me　with　a　glad　surprise。　　It　is　all　very　well　to　imagine　what　you　would　do　under　such　circumstances。　　Probably　you　wouldn't　do　it：　I　didn't。　The　bear　dropped　down　on　his　forefeet；　and　came　slowly　towards　me。　Climbing　a　tree　was　of　no　use；　with　so　good　a　climber　in　the　rear。　If　I　started　to　run；　I　had　no　doubt　the　bear　would　give　chase；　and　although　a　bear　cannot　run　down　hill　as　fast　as　he　can　run　up　hill；　yet　I　felt　that　he　could　get　over　this　rough；　brush…tangled　ground　faster　than　I　could。

The　bear　was　approaching。　　It　suddenly　occurred　to　me　how　I　could　divert　his　mind　until　I　could　fall　back　upon　my　military　base。　　My　pail　was　nearly　full　of　excellent　berries；　much　better　than　the　bear　could　pick　himself。　　I　put　the　pail　on　the　ground；　and　slowly　backed　away　from　it；　keeping　my　eye；　as　beast…tamers　do；　on　the　bear。　　The　ruse　succeeded。

The　bear　came　up　to　the　berries；　and　stopped。　　Not　accustomed　to　eat　out　of　a　pail；　he　tipped　it　over；　and　nosed　about　in　the　fruit；　〃gorming〃　（if　there　is　such　a　word）　it　down；　mixed　with　leaves　and　dirt；　like　a　pig。　　The　bear　is　a　worse　feeder　than　the　pig。　　Whenever　he　disturbs　a　maple…sugar　camp　in　the　spring；　he　always　upsets　the　buckets　of　syrup；　and　tramples　round　in　the　sticky　sweets；　wasting　more　than　he　eats。　　The　bear's　manners　are　thoroughly　disagreeable。

As　soon　as　my　enemy's　head　was　down；　I　started　and　ran。　　Somewhat　out　of　breath；　and　shaky；　I　reached　my　faithful　rifle。　　It　was　not　a　moment　too　soon。　　I　heard　the　bear　crashing　through　the　brush　after　me。　　Enraged　at　my　duplicity；　he　was　now　coming　on　with　blood　in　his　eye。　　I　felt　that　the　time　of　one　of　us　was　probably　short。　　The　rapidity　of　thought　at　such　moments　of　peril　is　well　known。　　I　thought　an　octavo　volume；　had　it　illustrated　and　published；　sold　fifty　thousand　copies；　and　went　to　Europe　on　the　proceeds；　while　that　bear　was　loping　across　the　clearing。　　As　I　was　cocking　the　gun；　I　made　a　hasty　and　unsatisfactory　review　of　my　whole　life。　　I　noted；　that；　even　in　such　a　compulsory　review；　it　is　almost　impossible　to　think　of　any　good　thing　you　have　done。　　The　sins　come　out　uncommonly　strong。　　I　recollected　a　newspaper　subscription　I　had　delayed　paying　years　and　years　ago；　until　both　editor　and　newspaper　were　dead；　and　which　now　never　could　be　paid　to　all　eternity。

The　bear　was　coming　on。

I　tried　to　remember　what　I　had　read　about　encounters　with　bears。　　I　couldn't　recall　an　instance　in　which　a　man　had　run　away　from　a　bear　in　the　woods　and　escaped；　although　I　recalled　plenty　where　the　bear　had　run　from　the　man　and　got　off。　　I　tried　to　think　what　is　the　best　way　to　kill　a　bear　with　a　gun；　when　you　are　not　near　enough　to　club　him　with　the　stock。　　My　first　thought　was　to　fire　at　his　head；　to　plant　the　ball　between　his　eyes：　but　this　is　a　dangerous　experiment。　The　bear's　brain　is　very　small；　and；　unless　you　hit　that；　the　bear　does　not　mind　a　bullet　in　his　head；　that　is；　not　at　the　time。　　I　remembered　that　the　instant　death　of　the　bear　would　follow　a　bullet　planted　just　back　of　his　fore…leg；　and　sent　into　his　heart。　　This　spot　is　also　difficult　to　reach；　unless　the　bear　stands　off；　side　towards　you；　like　a　target。　　I　finally　determined　to　fire　at　him　generally。

The　bear　was　coming　on。

The　contest　seemed　to　me　very　different　from　anything　at　Creedmoor。　I　had　carefully　read　the　reports　of　the　shooting　there；　but　it　was　not　easy　to　apply　the　experience　I　had　thus　acquired。　　I　hesitated　whether　I　had　better　fire　lying　on　my　stomach　or　lying　on　my　back；　and　resting　the　gun　on　my　toes。　　But　in　neither　position；　I　reflected；　could　I　see　the　bear　until　he　was　upon　me。　　The　range　was　too　short；　and　the　bear　wouldn't　wait　for　me　to　examine　the　thermometer；　and　note　the　direction　of　the　wind。　　Trial　of　the　Creedmoor　method；　therefore；　had　to　be　abandoned；　and　I　bitterly　regretted　that　I　had　not　read　more　accounts　o