the mountains(山脉)-第35部分
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camp at Monache Meadows。
Imagine an island…dotted lake of grass four or five miles long by two
or three wide to which slope regular shores of stony soil planted with trees。
Imagine on the very edge of that lake an especially fine grove perhaps a
quarter of a mile in length； beneath whose trees a dozen different outfits of
cowboys are camped for the summer。 You must place a herd of ponies in
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the foreground； a pine mountain at the back； an unbroken ridge across
ahead； cattle dotted here and there； thousands of ravens wheeling and
croaking and flapping everywhere； a marvelous clear sun and blue sky。
The camps were mostly open； though a few possessed tents。 They
differed from the ordinary in that they had racks for saddles and
equipments。 Especially well laid out were the cooking arrangements。 A
dozen accommodating springs supplied fresh water with the
conveniently regular spacing of faucets。
Towards evening the men jingled in。 This summer camp was almost
in the nature of a vacation to them after the hard work of the desert。 All
they had to do was to ride about the pleasant hills examining that the cattle
did not stray nor get into trouble。 It was fun for them； and they were in
high spirits。
Our immediate neighbors were an old man of seventy…two and his
grandson of twenty…five。 At least the old man said he was seventy…two。
I should have guessed fifty。 He was as straight as an arrow； wiry； lean；
clear…eyed； and had； without food； ridden twelve hours after some strayed
cattle。 On arriving he threw off his saddle； turned his horse loose； and set
about the construction of supper。 This consisted of boiled meat； strong
tea； and an incredible number of flapjacks built of water； baking…powder；
salt； and flour； warmed throughnot cookedin a frying… pan。 He
deluged these with molasses and devoured three platefuls。 It would have
killed an ostrich； but apparently did this decrepit veteran of seventy…two
much good。
After supper he talked to us most interestingly in the dry cowboy
manner； looking at us keenly from under the floppy brim of his hat。 He
confided to us that he had had to quit smoking； and it ground him he'd
smoked since he was five years old。
〃Tobacco doesn't agree with you any more？〃 I hazarded。
〃Oh； 'taint that；〃 he replied； 〃only I'd ruther chew。〃
The dark fell； and all the little camp…fires under the trees twinkled
bravely forth。 Some of the men sang。 One had an accordion。 Figures；
indistinct and formless； wandered here and there in the shadows； suddenly
emerging from mystery into the clarity of firelight； there to disclose
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themselves as visitors。 Out on the plain the cattle lowed； the horses
nickered。 The red firelight flashed from the metal of suspended
equipment； crimsoned the bronze of men's faces； touched with pink the
high lights on their gracefully recumbent forms。 After a while we rolled
up in our blankets and went to sleep； while a band of coyotes wailed like
lost spirits from a spot where a steer had died。
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XX
THE GOLDEN TROUT
After Farewell Gap； as has been hinted； the country changes utterly。
Possibly that is why it is named Farewell Gap。 The land is wild； weird；
full of twisted trees； strangely colored rocks； fantastic formations； bleak
mountains of slabs； volcanic cones； lava； dry powdery soil or loose shale；
close…growing grasses； and strong winds。 You feel yourself in an upper
world beyond the normal； where only the freakish cold things of nature；
elsewhere crowded out； find a home。 Camp is under a lonely tree； none
the less solitary from the fact that it has companions。 The earth beneath
is characteristic of the treeless lands； so that these seem to have been stuck
alien into it。 There is no shelter save behind great fortuitous rocks。
Huge marmots run over the boulders； like little bears。 The wind blows
strong。 The streams run naked under the eye of the sun； exposing clear
and yellow every detail of their bottoms。 In them there are no deep
hiding…places any more than there is shelter in the land； and so every fish
that swims shows as plainly as in an aquarium。
We saw them as we rode over the hot dry shale among the hot and
twisted little trees。 They lay against the bottom； transparent； they darted
away from the jar of our horses' hoofs； they swam slowly against the
current； delicate as liquid shadows； as though the clear uniform golden
color of the bottom had clouded slightly to produce these tenuous ghostly
forms。 We examined them curiously from the advantage our slightly
elevated trail gave us； and knew them for the Golden Trout； and longed to
catch some。
All that day our route followed in general the windings of this unique
home of a unique fish。 We crossed a solid natural bridge； we skirted
fields of red and black lava； vivid as poppies； we gazed marveling on
perfect volcano cones； long since extinct： finally we camped on a side hill
under two tall branchless trees in about as bleak and exposed a position as
one could imagine。 Then all three； we jointed our rods and went forth to
find out what the Golden Trout was like。
I soon discovered a number of things； as follows： The stream at this
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point； near its source； is very narrowI could step across itand flows
beneath deep banks。 The Golden Trout is shy of approach。 The wind
blows。 Combining these items of knowledge I found that it was no easy
matter to cast forty feet in a high wind so accurately as to hit a three…foot
stream a yard below the level of the ground。 In fact； the proposition was
distinctly sporty； I became as interested in it as in accurate target…shooting；
so that at last I forgot utterly the intention of my efforts and failed to strike
my first rise。 The second； however； I hooked； and in a moment had him
on the grass。
He was a little fellow of seven inches； but mere size was nothing； the
color was the thing。 And that was indeed golden。 I can liken it to
nothing more accurately than the twenty…dollar gold…piece； the same satin
finish； the same pale yellow。 The fish was fairly molten。 It did not
glitter in gaudy burnishment； as does our aquarium gold…fish； for example；
but gleamed and melted and glowed as though fresh from the mould。
One would almost expect that on cutting the flesh it would be found
golden through all its substance。 This for the basic color。 You must
remember always that it was a true trout； without scales； and so the more
satiny。 Furthermore； along either side of the belly ran two broad
longitudinal stripes of exactly the color and burnish of the copper paint
used on racing yachts。
I thought then； and have ever since； that the Golden Trout； fresh from
the water； is one of the most beautiful fish that swims。 Unfortunately it
fades very quickly； and so specimens in alcohol can give no idea of it。 In
fact； I doubt if you will ever be able to gain a very clear idea of it unless
you take to the trail that leads up； under the end of which is known
technically as the High Sierras。
The Golden Trout lives only in this one stream； but occurs there in
countless multitudes。 Every little pool； depression； or riffles has its
school。 When not alarmed they take the fly readily。 One afternoon I
caught an even hundred in a little over an hour。 By way of parenthesis it
may be well to state that most were returned unharmed to the water。
They run small；a twelve…inch fish is a monster；but are of extraordinary
delicacy for eating。 We three devoured sixty…five that first evening in
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camp。
Now the following considerations seem to me at this point worthy of
note。 In the first place； the Golden Trout occurs but in this one stream；
and is easily caught。 At present the stream is comparatively inaccessible；
so that the natural supply probably keeps even with the season's catches。
Still the trail is on the dire
