the mountains(山脉)-第24部分
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deep delight and his pecking away before the open doors of fortune。 By
and by he would build himself a little cabin down in the lower pine
mountains； where he would grow a white beard； putter with occult
wilderness crafts； and smoke long contemplative hours in the sun before
his door。 For tourists he would braid rawhide reins and quirts； or make
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buckskin。 The jays and woodpeckers and Douglas squirrels would
become fond of him。 So he would be gathered to his fathers； a gentle old
man whose life had been spent harmlessly in the open。 He had had his
ideal to which blindly he reached； he had in his indirect way contributed
the fruits of his labor to mankind； his recompenses he had chosen
according to his desires。 When you consider these things； you perforce
have to revise your first notion of him as a useless sort of old ruffian。 As
you come to know him better； you must love him for the kindliness； the
simple honesty； the modesty； and charity that he seems to draw from his
mountain environment。 There are hundreds of him buried in the great
canons of the West。
Our prospector was a little uncertain as to his plans。 Along toward
autumn he intended to land at some reputed placers near Dinkey Creek。
There might be something in that district。 He thought he would take a
look。 In the mean time he was just poking up through the countryhe
and his jackasses。 Good way to spend the summer。 Perhaps he might
run across something 'most anywhere； up near the top of that mountain
opposite looked mineralized。 Didn't know but what he'd take a look at
her to…morrow。
He camped near us during three days。 I never saw a more modest；
self…effacing man。 He seemed genuinely； childishly； almost helplessly
interested in our fly…fishing； shooting； our bear…skins； and our travels。
You would have thought from his demeanor which was sincere and not
in the least ironical that he had never seen or heard anything quite like
that before； and was struck with wonder at it。 Yet he had cast flies before
we were born； and shot even earlier than he had cast a fly； and was a very
Ishmael for travel。 Rarely could you get an account of his own
experiences； and then only in illustration of something else。
〃If you…all likes bear…hunting；〃 said he； 〃you ought to get up in eastern
Oregon。 I summered there once。 The only trouble is； the brush is thick
as hair。 You 'most always have to bait them； or wait for them to come
and drink。 The brush is so small you ain't got much chance。 I run onto
a she… bear and cubs that way once。 Didn't have nothin' but my six…
shooter； and I met her within six foot。〃 He stopped with an air of finality。
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〃Well； what did you do？〃 we asked。
〃Me？〃 he inquired； surprised。 〃Oh； I just leaked out of th' landscape。〃
He prospected the mountain opposite； loafed with us a little； and then
decided that he must be going。 About eight o'clock in the morning he
passed us； hazing his burros； his tall； lean figure elastic in defiance of
years。
〃So long； boys；〃 he called； 〃good luck！〃
〃So long；〃 we responded heartily。 〃Be good to yourself。〃
He plunged into the river without hesitation； emerged dripping on
the other side； and disappeared in the brush。 From time to time during
the rest of the morning we heard the intermittent tinkling of his bell…
animal rising higher and higher above us on the trail。
In the person of this man we gained our first connection； so to speak；
with the Golden Trout。 He had caught some of them； and could tell us
of their habits。
Few fishermen west of the Rockies have not heard of the Golden Trout；
though； equally； few have much definite information concerning it。 Such
information usually runs about as follows：
It is a medium size fish of the true trout family； resembling a rainbow
except that it is of a rich golden color。 The peculiarity that makes its
capture a dream to be dreamed of is that it swims in but one little stream of
all the round globe。 If you would catch a Golden Trout； you must climb
up under the very base of the end of the High Sierras。 There is born a
stream that flows down from an elevation of about ten thousand feet to
about eight thousand before it takes a long plunge into a branch of the
Kern River。 Over the twenty miles of its course you can cast your fly for
Golden Trout； but what is the nature of that stream； that fish； or the
method of its capture； few can tell you with any pretense of accuracy。
To be sure； there are legends。 One； particularly striking； claims that
the Golden Trout occurs in one other streamsituated in Central Asia！
and that the fish is therefore a remnant of some pre…glacial period； like
Sequoia trees； a sort of grand…daddy of all trout； as it were。 This is but a
sample of what you will hear discussed。
Of course from the very start we had had our eye on the Golden Trout；
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and intended sooner or later to work our way to his habitat。 Our
prospector had just come from there。
〃It's about four weeks south； the way you and me travels；〃 said he。
〃You don't want to try Harrison's Pass； it's chock full of tribulation。 Go
around by way of the Giant Forest。 She's pretty good there； too； some
sizable timber。 Then over by Redwood Meadows； and Timber Gap； by
Mineral King； and over through Farewell Gap。 You turn east there； on a
new trail。 She's steeper than straight… up…an'…down； but shorter than the
other。 When you get down in the canon of Kern River；say； she's a fine
canon； too；you want to go downstream about two mile to where there's a
sort of natural over… flowed lake full of stubs stickin' up。 You'll get some
awful big rainbows in there。 Then your best way is to go right up
Whitney Creek Trail to a big high meadows mighty nigh to timber…line。
That's where I camped。 They's lots of them little yaller fish there。 Oh；
they bite well enough。 You'll catch 'em。 They's a little shy。〃
So in that guiseas the desire for new and distant thingsdid our angel
with the flaming sword finally come to us。
We caught reluctant horses reluctantly。 All the first day was to be a
climb。 We knew it； and I suspect that they knew it too。 Then we
packed and addressed ourselves to the task offered us by the Basin Trail。
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XIV
ON CAMP COOKERY
One morning I awoke a little before the others； and lay on my back
staring up through the trees。 It was not my day to cook。 We were
camped at the time only about sixty…five hundred feet high； and the
weather was warm。 Every sort of green thing grew very lush all about us；
but our own little space was held dry and clear for us by the needles of two
enormous red cedars some four feet in diameter。 A variety of thoughts
sifted through my mind as it followed lazily the shimmering filaments of
loose spider… web streaming through space。 The last thought stuck。 It
was that that day was a holiday。 Therefore I un… limbered my six…shooter；
and turned her loose； each shot being accompanied by a meritorious yell。
The outfit boiled out of its blankets。 I explained the situation； and
after they had had some breakfast they agreed with me that a celebration
was in order。 Unanimously we decided to make it gastronomic。
〃We will ride till we get to good feed；〃 we concluded； 〃and then we'll
cook all the afternoon。 And nobody must eat anything until the whole
business is prepared and served。〃
It was agreed。 We rode until we were very hungry； which was eleven
o'clock。 Then we rode some more。 By and by we came to a log cabin
in a wide fair lawn below a high mountain with a ducal coronet on its top；
and around that cabin was a fence； and inside the fence a man chopping
wood。 Him we hailed。 He came to the fence and grinned at us from the
elevation of high…heeled boots。 By this token we knew him for a cow…
puncher。
〃How are you？〃 said we。
〃Howdy； boys；〃 he roared。 Roared is the accurate expression。 He
was not a large man； and his hair was sandy； and his eye mild blue。
