the complete writings-3-第2部分

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　of　offhand　shooting。

For　the　bear　was　coming　on。

I　tried　to　fix　my　last　thoughts　upon　my　family。　　As　my　family　is　small；　this　was　not　difficult。　　Dread　of　displeasing　my　wife；　or　hurting　her　feelings；　was　uppermost　in　my　mind。　　What　would　be　her　anxiety　as　hour　after　hour　passed　on；　and　I　did　not　return！　　What　would　the　rest　of　the　household　think　as　the　afternoon　passed；　and　no　blackberries　came！　　What　would　be　my　wife's　mortification　when　the　news　was　brought　that　her　husband　had　been　eaten　by　a　bear！　　I　cannot　imagine　anything　more　ignominious　than　to　have　a　husband　eaten　by　a　bear。　　And　this　was　not　my　only　anxiety。　　The　mind　at　such　times　is　not　under　control。　　With　the　gravest　fears　the　most　whimsical　ideas　will　occur。　　I　looked　beyond　the　mourning　friends；　and　thought　what　kind　of　an　epitaph　they　would　be　compelled　to　put　upon　the　stone。

Something　like　this：

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　HERE　LIE　THE　REMAINS

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　OF　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　_______________

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　EATEN　BY　A　BEAR　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　Aug。　　20；　1877

It　is　a　very　unheroic　and　even　disagreeable　epitaph。　　That　〃eaten　by　a　bear〃　is　intolerable。　　It　is　grotesque。　　And　then　I　thought　what　an　inadequate　language　the　English　is　for　compact　expression。　　It　would　not　answer　to　put　upon　the　stone　simply　〃eaten〃；　for　that　is　indefinite；　and　requires　explanation：　it　might　mean　eaten　by　a　cannibal。　　This　difficulty　could　not　occur　in　the　German；　where　essen　signifies　the　act　of　feeding　by　a　man；　and　fressen　by　a　beast。　　How　simple　the　thing　would　be　in　German！

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　HIER　LIEGT　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　HOCHWOHLGEBOREN　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　HERR　_____　_______

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　GEFRESSEN　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　Aug。　　20；　1877

That　explains　itself。　　The　well…born　one　was　eaten　by　a　beast；　and　presumably　by　a　bear；an　animal　that　has　a　bad　reputation　since　the　days　of　Elisha。

The　bear　was　coming　on；　he　had；　in　fact；　come　on。　　I　judged　that　he　could　see　the　whites　of　my　eyes。　　All　my　subsequent　reflections　were　confused。　　I　raised　the　gun；　covered　the　bear's　breast　with　the　sight；　and　let　drive。　　Then　I　turned；　and　ran　like　a　deer。　　I　did　not　hear　the　bear　pursuing。　　I　looked　back。　　The　bear　had　stopped。　　He　was　lying　down。　　I　then　remembered　that　the　best　thing　to　do　after　having　fired　your　gun　is　to　reload　it。　　I　slipped　in　a　charge；　keeping　my　eyes　on　the　bear。　　He　never　stirred。　　I　walked　back　suspiciously。　　There　was　a　quiver　in　the　hindlegs；　but　no　other　motion。　　Still；　he　might　be　shamming：　bears　often　sham。　　To　make　sure；　I　approached；　and　put　a　ball　into　his　head。　　He　didn't　mind　it　now：　he　minded　nothing。　　Death　had　come　to　him　with　a　merciful　suddenness。　　He　was　calm　in　death。　　In　order　that　he　might　remain　so；　I　blew　his　brains　out；　and　then　started　for　home。　　I　had　killed　a　bear！

Notwithstanding　my　excitement；　I　managed　to　saunter　into　the　house　with　an　unconcerned　air。　　There　was　a　chorus　of　voices：

〃Where　are　your　blackberries？〃　〃Why　were　you　gone　so　long？〃　〃Where's　your　pail？〃

〃I　left　the　pail。〃

〃Left　the　pail？　What　for？〃

〃A　bear　wanted　it。〃

〃Oh；　nonsense！〃

〃Well；　the　last　I　saw　of　it；　a　bear　had　it。〃

〃Oh；　come！　You　didn't　really　see　a　bear？〃

〃Yes；　but　I　did　really　see　a　real　bear。〃

〃Did　he　run？〃

〃Yes：　he　ran　after　me。〃

〃I　don't　believe　a　word　of　it。　　What　did　you　do？〃

〃Oh！　nothing　particularexcept　kill　the　bear。〃

Cries　of　〃Gammon！〃　　〃Don't　believe　it！〃　　〃Where's　the　bear？〃

〃If　you　want　to　see　the　bear；　you　must　go　up　into　the　woods。　　I　couldn't　bring　him　down　alone。〃

Having　satisfied　the　household　that　something　extraordinary　had　occurred；　and　excited　the　posthumous　fear　of　some　of　them　for　my　own　safety；　I　went　down　into　the　valley　to　get　help。　　The　great　bear…　hunter；　who　keeps　one　of　the　summer　boarding…houses；　received　my　story　with　a　smile　of　incredulity；　and　the　incredulity　spread　to　the　other　inhabitants　and　to　the　boarders　as　soon　as　the　story　was　known。　However；　as　I　insisted　in　all　soberness；　and　offered　to　lead　them　to　the　bear；　a　party　of　forty　or　fifty　people　at　last　started　off　with　me　to　bring　the　bear　in。　　Nobody　believed　there　was　any　bear　in　the　case；　but　everybody　who　could　get　a　gun　carried　one；　and　we　went　into　the　woods　armed　with　guns；　pistols；　pitchforks；　and　sticks；　against　all　contingencies　or　surprises；a　crowd　made　up　mostly　of　scoffers　and　jeerers。

But　when　I　led　the　way　to　the　fatal　spot；　and　pointed　out　the　bear；　lying　peacefully　wrapped　in　his　own　skin；　something　like　terror　seized　the　boarders；　and　genuine　excitement　the　natives。　　It　was　a　no…mistake　bear；　by　George！　and　the　hero　of　the　fight　well；　I　will　not　insist　upon　that。　　But　what　a　procession　that　was；　carrying　the　bear　home！　and　what　a　congregation；　was　speedily　gathered　in　the　valley　to　see　the　bear！　　Our　best　preacher　up　there　never　drew　anything　like　it　on　Sunday。

And　I　must　say　that　my　particular　friends；　who　were　sportsmen；　behaved　very　well；　on　the　whole。　　They　didn't　deny　that　it　was　a　bear；　although　they　said　it　was　small　for　a　bear。　　Mr。。。　Deane；　who　is　equally　good　with　a　rifle　and　a　rod；　admitted　that　it　was　a　very　fair　shot。　　He　is　probably　the　best　salmon　fisher　in　the　United　States；　and　he　is　an　equally　good　hunter。　　I　suppose　there　is　no　person　in　America　who　is　more　desirous　to　kill　a　moose　than　he。　　But　he　needlessly　remarked；　after　he　had　examined　the　wound　in　the　bear；　that　he　had　seen　that　kind　of　a　shot　made　by　a　cow's　horn。

This　sort　of　talk　affected　me　not。　　When　I　went　to　sleep　that　night；　my　last　delicious　thought　was；　〃I've　killed　a　bear！〃




II

LOST　IN　THE　WOODS

It　ought　to　be　said；　by　way　of　explanation；　that　my　being　lost　in　the　woods　was　not　premeditated。　　Nothing　could　have　been　more　informal。　This　apology　can　be　necessary　only　to　those　who　are　familiar　with　the　Adirondack　literature。　　Any　person　not　familiar　with　it　would　see　the　absurdity　of　one　going　to　the　Northern　Wilderness　with　the　deliberate　purpose　of　writing　about　himself　as　a　lost　man。　　It　may　be　true　that　a　book　about　this　wild　tract　would　not　be　recognized　as　complete　without　a　lost…man　story　in　it；　since　it　is　almost　as　easy　for　a　stranger　to　get　lost　in　the　Adirondacks　as　in　Boston。　　I　merely　desire　to　say　that　my　unimportant　adventure　is　not　narrated　in　answer　to　the　popular　demand；　and　I　do　not　wish　to　be　held　responsible　for　its　variation　from　the　typical　character　of　such　experiences。

We　had　been　in　camp　a　week；　on　the　Upper　Au　Sable　Lake。　　This　is　a　gememerald　or　turquoise　as　the　light　changes　itset　in　the　virgin　forest。　　It　is　not　a　large　body　of　water；　is　irregular　in　form；　and　about　a　mile　and　a　half　in　length；　but　in　the　sweep　of　its　wooded　shores；　and　the　lovely　contour　of　the　lofty　mountains　that　guard　it；　the　lake　is　probably　the　most　charming　in　America。　　Why　the　young　ladies　and　gentlemen　who　camp　there　occasionally　vex　the　days　and　nights　with　hooting；　and　singing　sentimental　songs；　is　a　mystery　even　to　the　laughing　loon。

I　left　my　companions　there　one　Saturday　morning；　to　return　to　Keene　Valley；　intending　to　fish　down　the　Au　Sable　River。　　The　Upper　Lake　discharges　itself　into　the　Lower　by　a　brook　which　winds　through　a　mile　and　a　half　of　swamp　and　woods。　　Out　of　the　north　end　of　the　Lower　Lake；　which　is　a　huge　sink　in　the　mountains；　and　mirrors　the　savage　precipices；　the　Au　Sable　breaks　its　rocky　barriers；　and　flows　through　a　wild　gorge；　several　miles；　to　the　valley　below。　　Between　the　Lower　Lake　and　the　settlements　is　an　extensive　forest；　traversed　by　a　cart…path；　admirably　constructed　of　loose　stones；　roots　of　trees；　decayed　logs；　slippery　rocks；　and　mud。　　The　gorge　of　the　river　forms　its　western　boundary。　　I　followed　this　caricature　of　a　road　a　mile　or　more；　then　gave　my　luggage　to　the　guide　to　carry　home；　and　struck　off　through　the　forest；　by　compass；　to　the　river。　　I　promised　myself　an　exciting　scramble　down　this　little…frequented　canyon；　and　a　creel　full　of　trout。　　There　was　no　difficulty　in　finding　the　river；　or　in　descending　the　steep　precipice　to　its　bed：　getting　into　a　scrape　is　usually　the　easiest　part　of　it。　　The　river　is　strewn　with　bowlders；　big　and　little；　through　which　the　amber　water　rushes　with　an　unceasing　thunderous　roar；　now　plunging　down　in　white　falls；　then　swirling　round　in　dark　pools。　　The　day；　already　past　meridian；　was　delightful；　at　least；　the　blue　strip　of　it　I　could　see　overhead。

Better　pools　and　rapids　for　trout　never　were；　I　thought；　as　I　concealed　myself　behind　a　bowlder；　and　made　the　first　cast。　　There　is　nothing　like　the　thrill　of　expectation　over　the　first　throw　in　unfamiliar　waters。　　Fishing　is　like　gambling；　in　that　failure　only　excites　hope　of　a　fortunate　throw　next　time。　　There　was　no　rise　to　the　〃leader〃　on　the　first　cast；　nor　on　the　twenty…first；　and　I　cautiously　worked　my　way　down　stream；　throwing　right　and　left。　　When　I　had　gone　half　a　mile；　my　opinion　of　the　character　of　the　pools　was　unchanged：　never　were　there　such　places　for　trout；　but　the　trout　were　out　of　their　places。　　Perhaps　they　didn't　care　for　the　fly：　some　trout　seem　to　be　so　unsophisticated　as　to　prefer　the　worm。　　I　replaced　the　fly　with　a　baited　hook：　the　worm　squirmed；　the　waters　rushed　and　roared；　a　cloud　sailed　across　the　blue：　no　trout　rose　to　the　lonesome　opportunity。　　There　is　a　certain　companionship　in　the　presence　of　trout；　especially　when　you　can　feel　them　flopping　in　your　fish　basket；　but　it　became　evident　that　there　were　no　trout　in　this　wilderness；　and　a　sense　of　isolation　for　the　first　time　came　over　me。　There　was　no　living　thing　near。　　The　river　had　by　this　time　entered　a　deeper　gorge；　walls　of　rocks　rose　perpendicularly　on　either　side；　picturesque　rocks；　painted　many　colors　by　the　oxide　of　iron。　　It　was　not　possible　to　climb　out　of　the　gorge；　it　was　impossible　to　find　a　way　by　the　side　of　the　river；　and　getting　down　the　bed；　over　the　falls；　and　through　the　flumes；　was　not　easy；　and　consumed　time。

Was　that　thunder？　　Very　likely。　　But　thunder　showers　are　always　brewing　in　these　mountain　fortresses；　and　it　did　not　occur　to　me　that　there　was　anything　personal　in　it。　　Very　soon；　however；　the　hole　in　the　sky　closed　in；　and　the　rain　dashed　down。　　It　seemed　a　providential　time　to　eat　my　luncheon；　and　I　took　shelter　under　a　scraggy　pine　that　had　rooted　itself