The new version of information paper love life (Jack)
Author: Jack London
Everything, finally only this is left——
They experienced the hardships and ups and downs of life;
Being able to do this is victory,
Even though they lost their gambling capital.
The two of them limped and trudged down the river bank. Once, the one walking in front stumbled and staggered among the rocks. They were tired and exhausted, and their faces had a sad look on their faces due to long-term suffering.
, expressions of gritted teeth and suffering. On their shoulders were heavy bundles wrapped in blankets. Finally, the belt around their foreheads was still strong enough to help hang the bundle. Each of them held a rifle. They were bent over.
When walking, the shoulders are forward, the head is forward, and the eyes are always looking at the ground.
"We wish we had two or three of those bullets we hid in the cellar," said the man walking behind.
His tone was gloomy, dry, and completely devoid of emotion. He said these words coldly; the man in front just limped toward the white stream that flowed through the rocks and stirred up a foam.
Go and don't answer a word.
The one at the back followed him closely. Neither of them took off their shoes and socks, even though the water in the river was cold - it made their ankles hurt and their feet numb. Whenever they came to a place where the water hit their knees, both of them shook.
The man who was following him slipped on a smooth round stone and almost fell. However, he struggled hard and stood firm, and screamed in pain at the same time. He seemed to
He was a little dizzy, shaking, and stretched out his free hand, as if intending to hold something in the air. After standing firm, he walked forward again, but unexpectedly he staggered again and almost fell down.
So, he stood still and looked at the person in front of him who never looked back.
He stood motionless for a full minute, as if he was trying to convince himself. Then he yelled, "Hey, Bill, I sprained my ankle."
Bill staggered forward in the white river water. He did not look back.
The man behind watched him walking like this; although his face was still expressionless, his eyes showed the same look as a wounded deer.
The man in front limped up to the opposite river bank, without looking back, and just walked forward. The people in the river watched helplessly. His lips were trembling a little, so the brown clusters on his mouth were like
His beard was also visibly trembling. He even stuck out his tongue to lick his lips unconsciously.
"Bill!" he shouted loudly.
This was the cry of a strong man asking for help in trouble, but Bill did not look back. His companions looked at him and saw him limping in a weird way, stumbling forward and swaying.
He staggered up a not-steep slope and walked towards the not-so-bright sky on the top of the short hill. He kept watching him cross the hill and disappear. Then he turned his eyes and slowly scanned what Bill had left behind after he left.
That circle of world.
The sun near the horizon is like a fireball that is about to go out, almost obscured by the chaotic fog and steam, making you feel like it is a dense mass, but the outline is fuzzy and elusive. This
The man rested on one leg and took out his watch. It was now four o'clock. In this season of late July or early August - he couldn't tell the exact date within a week or two - he
He knew that the sun was approximately in the northwest. He looked to the south and knew that behind those desolate hills was the Great Bear Lake. At the same time, he also knew that in that direction, the restricted boundary of the Arctic Circle penetrated deep into the Canadian tundra. Where he stood
was a tributary of the Coppermine River, which itself flowed northward to Coronation Bay and the Arctic Ocean. He had never been there, but once he was on a Hudson's Bay Company map.
I've seen that place before.
He scanned the world around him again. It was a sad sight. There was a blurry skyline everywhere. The hills were all so low. There were no trees, no bushes, no grass - nothing.
There was none, only a vast and terrifying wilderness, which quickly gave him a look of fear in his eyes.
"Bill!" he shouted quietly, again and again: "Bill!"
He cowered in the white water, as if the vast world was squeezing him with overwhelming force and cruelly displaying its proud majesty to destroy him. He trembled like a malaria
, even the gun in his hand fell into the water with a crash. This sound finally woke him up. He struggled with fear, tried his best to summon up his energy, groped in the water, and found the gun. He moved the bundle to his left shoulder
Once, in order to relieve the burden on the sprained ankle. Then, slowly, cautiously, wincing in pain, he walked towards the river bank.
He didn't stop even a step. He struggled like crazy, ignoring the pain, and hurriedly climbed the slope and walked towards the top of the mountain where his companion had disappeared. Compared with the lame and limping companion, he hurriedly climbed the slope.
The appearance looked even more weird and ridiculous. But when he reached the top of the mountain, he saw only a dead, shallow valley with no grass. He struggled with fear again, overcame it, moved the baggage to his left shoulder, and staggered down the hillside.
The bottom of the valley was damp, with thick moss clinging to the water like a sponge. When he took a step, water splashed out from under his feet. Every time he lifted his feet, there was a sizzling sound, because
The damp moss always sucked his feet and refused to let go. He walked on a good path from one swamp to another, and followed Bill's footprints, passing through piles of piles that seemed to protrude in this area.
Island-like rocks in a sea of moss.
Although he was alone, he was not lost. He knew that if he went further, he would come to a small lake where there were many very small and thin dead fir trees. The local people called it "Ti".
"Qingniqili" means "little stick land". Moreover, there is a small stream leading to the lake, and the water is not white.
There were rushes on the stream--he remembered that well--but no trees. He could follow the stream to the divide at the end of the water. He would cross the divide to the head of another creek.
, this stream flows to the west, and he can follow the current to where it flows into the River Dease. There, under an overturned canoe, he can find a small pit with many stones piled on top. This pit
It contains the bullets he needs for his empty gun, as well as fishing hooks, fishing lines and a small fishing net - everything he needs for hunting, fishing and food. At the same time, he will also find flour - not much - and besides
A piece of marinated pork and some beans. .
Bill would be waiting for him there, and they would paddle south along the Dees River to Big Bear Lake. Then, they would paddle south in the lake, all the way south to the McKenzie River. Once there, they would paddle
Heading south, keep walking south, and winter will never catch up with them. Let the rapids freeze and the weather become more severe, and they will go south to a warm station of the Hudson's Bay Company, where
Not only do the trees grow tall and lush, but there are also a lot of things to eat.
This was what this man was thinking as he struggled forward. He not only struggled with his physical strength, but also racked his brains. He tried his best to think that Bill had not abandoned him, and that Bill would definitely be here.
Wait for him in the hiding place.
He had to think this way, otherwise, he wouldn't have had to work so hard, he would have laid down and died long ago. When the fuzzy ball-like sun slowly sank toward the northwest, he thought over and over again
They made every inch of their way south before winter caught up with him and Bill. He thought repeatedly about the food in the cellar and on the head of the Hudson's Bay Company station. He had not eaten in two days; as for
There were more than two days when he didn't eat what he wanted. He often bent down and picked up the gray-white berries on the swamp, put them in his mouth, chewed them a few times, and then swallowed them.
The swamp berries only have a small seed with a little pulpy water on the outside. As soon as it is imported, the water melts and the seeds are pungent and bitter. He knows that this kind of berry has no nutrients, but he still holds a thought regardless of reason.
, chewing them patiently regardless of the hope of lessons learned.
At nine o'clock he stumbled on a rock, staggered and fell over due to extreme fatigue and weakness. He lay motionless for a while on his side. Then he pulled himself from the bundle.
He freed himself from the belt of the baggage and struggled awkwardly to sit up. At this time, the sky was not completely dark yet. He took advantage of the lingering twilight and groped among the rocks, trying to find some dry moss. Later, he
After collecting a pile, they lit a fire - a sluggish fire with black smoke - and put a tin pot of water on it to boil.
He opened the bag, and the first thing he did was to count his matches. There were sixty-six matches in total. To make it clear, he counted them three times. He divided them into several parts, wrapped them in oil paper, and put one part in his empty pocket.
In the tobacco bag, one part was placed in the ring of his old hat, and the last part was placed inside the shirt close to his chest. After finishing, he suddenly felt a panic, so he took them out completely, opened them, and counted them again.
Still sixty-six.
He was drying his damp shoes and socks by the fire. The moccasins had become soaked pieces. The felt socks were worn through in many places, and the skin on both feet was torn and bleeding. One ankle was so swollen that the blood vessels were throbbing.
He checked it. It was swollen as thick as his knees. He had two blankets in total. He tore off a long strip from one of them and tied his ankles tightly. In addition, he tore off several more strips and wrapped them in
On his feet, instead of moccasins and socks, he drank the pitcher of scalding water, wound up his watch, and crawled between the two blankets.
He slept like a dead man. The brief darkness around midnight came and went.
The sun rose in the northeast—or at least there was dawn in that direction, because the sun was obscured by dark clouds.
At six o'clock, he woke up and lay quietly on his back. He looked up at the gray sky and knew that he was hungry. When he turned over on his elbows, a loud snoring sound frightened him.
With a jump, he saw a buck, which was looking at him with alert and curious eyes. The animal was only fifty feet away from him, and the scene of venison steaks sizzling on the fire immediately appeared in his mind.
The scene and the taste. He unconsciously grabbed the empty gun, aimed the sight, and pulled the trigger. The buck snorted, jumped away, and only heard the clatter of its hooves as it ran across the rocks.
sound.
The man swore and threw away the empty gun. He grunted loudly as he dragged himself to his feet. It was a slow, laborious task. His joints looked like rusty hinges.
Their movements in the bone socket were very slow and the resistance was great. They had to grit their teeth to bend or stretch. Finally, the two legs finally stood still, but it took another minute or so to straighten their waist and let them stand.
He can stand as straight as a man.
He slowly climbed up a hill and looked at the surrounding terrain. There were no trees, no bushes, nothing. He only saw endless gray moss, occasional gray rocks, and a few small gray lakes.
, a few gray creeks, a little bit of change. The sky is gray. There is no sun and no shadow of the sun. He doesn't know where the north is, and he has forgotten how he got here last night. But
He has not lost his way.
He knew this. Soon he would reach the "little stick field". He felt that it was somewhere on the left, and not far away - maybe just over the next hill.
So he returned to where he was, packed his bags, and was ready to leave. He felt clearly that the three packages of matches were still there, although he did not stop to count them. However, he still hesitated and kept there.
He calculated, this time for a thick buckskin bag. The bag was not large. He could cover it completely with two hands. He knew it weighed fifteen pounds--as much as the rest of the bag combined--
- This bag worried him. Finally, he put it aside and began to roll up the bundle. However, after rolling it for a while, he stopped and stared at the deerskin bag. He hurriedly grabbed it in his hand and rolled it with a
He looked around with a rebellious look, as if the wilderness was trying to snatch it away; when he stood up and staggered to start the day's journey, the bag was still wrapped in the bundle on his back.
He turned to the left and walked, stopping from time to time to eat berries on the moor. The sprained ankle was already stiff, and he was more limping than before, but the pain in his feet was nothing compared to the pain in his stomach. The pain of hunger was
They were violent. They seemed to be gnawing at his stomach. The pain was so painful that he could not concentrate on the route he had to take to reach "Little Stick Field". The berries on the moor did not relieve the severe pain.
The pungent taste made his tongue and mouth feel hot...
He came to a valley where many grouse were flapping their wings from the rocks and marshes. They made a cry of "cluck-cluck-cluck". He hit them with stones, but
He missed. He put the bundle on the ground and sneaked over like a cat catching a sparrow. The sharp rocks penetrated his trousers and cut his legs until the blood flowing out of his knees left a trail of blood on the ground.
But among the pangs of hunger, this pain was nothing. He crawled on the damp moss, making his clothes soaked and his body cold; but he did not feel any of this because his desire to eat was so strong.
.But the group of grouse always flew up and whirred in front of him. Later, their "cluck-cluck-cluck" call became a mockery of him, so he
He cursed them and shouted at them along with their cries.
At one point he crawled up to a grouse that must have been asleep. He didn't see it until it jumped up in his face from the corner of the rock. He took off like the grouse.
Panicked, he grabbed a handful and only found three tail feathers. When he watched it fly away, he hated it very much, as if it had done something wrong to him. Then he returned to the same place,
Pick up the baggage.
Time gradually passed, and he walked into the rolling valleys, or swamps, where there were more wild animals. A group of reindeer walked past, about twenty of them, all staying within the elusive rifle range.
Inside. He had a crazy desire to chase them, and believed that he would be able to catch them. A black fox came towards him, holding a grouse in its mouth. The man shouted
A cry. It was a terrible cry, and the fox frightened away, but did not leave the grouse behind.
In the evening, he walked along a small river. The river water, which turned milky white because it contained lime, flowed through the sparse rushes. He firmly grasped the roots of these rushes and pulled out a kind of green onion shoot.
It's only about the size of a nail on a shingle. It's so tender that when his teeth bite into it, it makes a squeaking sound, as if it tastes good. But its fiber is not easy to chew.
It was composed of tiny bits of water-filled fiber: like berries, it had no nutrients at all. He threw away the bundle, crawled into the rushes, and gnawed away like a cow. He was very tired and always
Hoping to take a break - lie down and take a nap; but he had to keep struggling forward - however, this was not necessarily because he was eager to get to the "little stick place", it was probably hunger that was forcing him.
He looked for frogs in small puddles, or dug in the soil with his fingernails to look for bugs, although he also knew that there were neither frogs nor bugs so far north.
He looked at every puddle he went to, but to no avail. Finally, when the long dusk fell, he discovered a unique small fish like a minnow in a puddle. He stretched his arm into the water.
It went up to his shoulders, but it slipped away again. So he grabbed it with both hands and muddied the milky white mud at the bottom of the pool. At the moment of nervousness, he fell into the pit and half of his body was soaked. Now,
The water was too muddy to see where the fish were, so he had to wait for the mud to settle.
He caught it again until the water was muddy again. But he couldn't wait any longer, so he took off the tin can and scooped out the water in the pit. At first, he scooped like crazy, splashing water on himself, and at the same time
, because the water that was poured out was too close, and the water flowed into the pit again. Later, he scooped it up more carefully, trying to calm himself down, although his heart was beating fast and his hands were shaking. Halfway through this
By the end of the hour, almost all the water in the pit was scooped out. There was not even a cup left.
However, there was no fish; only then did he discover that there was a hidden crack in the stone, from which the fish had crawled into a large connected pit next to it - he could not scoop out the water in the pit for a day and a night. If he had known earlier
If there is this secret gap, he will block it from the beginning, and the fish will be his. Thinking this, he fell weakly on the wet ground. At first, he just cried softly, but after that
After a while, he was sobbing loudly at the heartless wasteland that surrounded him; later, he sobbed loudly for a long time.
He lit a fire, drank several cans of hot water to keep himself warm, and slept on a rock as he had done last night. Finally, he checked to see if the matches were dry and the watch was wound up. The blanket was wet.
It was cold, and his ankles were throbbing with pain. But he only felt hungry. In his restless sleep, he dreamed of tables of banquets and banquets, as well as all kinds of food on the table.
When he woke up, he was cold and uncomfortable. There was no sun in the sky. The gray earth and sky became more and more gloomy and dark. A biting cold wind blew up, and the first snow covered the top of the mountain. The air around him became increasingly cold.
It became thicker and thicker, turning into a vast expanse of white. At this time, he had already lit a fire and boiled another pot of boiling water. Half of what fell from the sky was rain and half of it was snow. The snowflakes were large and damp. At first, they melted as soon as they fell to the ground.
, but then they fell more and more, covering the ground, extinguishing the fire, and destroying the dry moss he used as fuel.
This was a warning that he had to pick up his bag and limp forward; as to where he was going, he didn't know. He cared neither about Sticky Land nor about the overturned road by the rivers Beer and Death.
The cellar under the canoe. He was completely obsessed with the word "eat". He was crazy with hunger. He didn't care which way he took, as long as he could get out of this valley. He groped in the wet snow.
, walked to the wet swamp berries, and then uprooted the rushes while exploring forward. However, the stuff was neither flavorful nor filling.
Later, he found a sour weed and ate everything he found, but not much was found because it was a vine and could easily be buried under several inches of snow. That night he both
There was no fire or hot water, so he slept under the blanket and often woke up from hunger. By this time, the snow had turned into cold rain. He felt the rain falling on his upturned face, which woke him up a lot.
The next day it dawned - another gray day without the sun. The rain had stopped. The gnawing hunger feeling had also disappeared. He had lost the desire to eat. He only felt a dull pain in his stomach, but
It didn't make him too sad. His mind was relatively clear, and he was once again thinking about "Little Stick Field" and the cellar by the River Dease.
He tore the remaining blanket into strips and wrapped his bloody feet. At the same time, he tied the injured ankle again to prepare for the day's journey. When he was packing the bag, he
I thought about the thick deerskin pocket for a long time, but finally I decided to take it with me.
The snow had been melted by the rain, and only the top of the mountain was still white. The sun came out, and he was finally able to determine the direction of the compass, although he knew that he had lost his way now. During the wanderings of the previous two days, he might have walked
It was too far to the left. Therefore, in order to correct it, he walked to the right in order to take the correct route.
Now, though the pangs of hunger were no longer so sharp, he felt weak. When he was picking berries from the moor, or pulling up rushes, he was often obliged to stop for a while. His tongue felt dry.
, very big, as if it was covered with fine hairs, and it felt bitter to hold in the mouth. His heart caused him a lot of trouble. Every few minutes he walked, his heart would beat violently for a while, and then it would become a thump.
The painful rapid and violent jumps made him breathless and made him feel dizzy.
At noon, he found two minnows in a large puddle. It was impossible to scoop the water out of the puddle, but now that he was calmer, he tried to fish them out in a tin can. They were only his.
His little finger is so long, but he doesn't feel particularly hungry now. The dull pain in his stomach has become more and more numb and less and less noticeable. His stomach almost seems to be asleep. He eats the fish raw, struggling
Chewing on the ground, because eating has become a purely rational action. Although he does not want to eat, he knows that in order to survive, he must eat.
At dusk, he caught three more minnows. He ate two and kept one for breakfast the next day. The sun had dried the scattered moss, and he was able to boil some hot water to keep himself warm.
One day, he walked less than ten miles; the next day, as long as his heart allowed, he walked forward and only walked more than five miles. But there was no uncomfortable feeling in his stomach. It had already fallen asleep.
Now, he arrived in a strange area. There were more and more reindeer and more wolves. The sound of howling wolves was often heard in the wilderness. Once, he saw three wolves crossing the road in front of him.
Another night passed; in the morning, because his mind was clearer, he untied the leather cord that tied the thick deerskin bag, and poured out a stream of thick yellow gold sand and gold nuggets from the mouth of the bag. He divided the gold into roughly
Two equal piles, one was wrapped in a blanket and hid on a protruding rock, while the other pile was still put in his pocket. At the same time, he tore off a few strips from the remaining blanket and used
Come and bind his feet. He still couldn't bear to part with his gun because there were bullets in the cellar by the River Dis.
It was a foggy day, and on this day, he felt hungry again. His body was very weak, and he fainted from time to time and could not see anything. Now, it is not uncommon for him to fall when he stumbles.
Something happened; once, he tripped and fell into a grouse nest. There were four newly hatched grouse chicks in it, only one day old - only enough for one bite to eat from those lively little creatures;
He wolfed them down, popping them alive into his mouth and eating them like eggshells, while the hen grouse fluttered around him noisily. He used his gun as a club to hit it, but it got out of the way.
He threw stones at it and accidentally injured one of its wings. The grouse flapping its injured wings fled away, and he chased after it.
Those chickens only aroused his appetite. He dragged the injured ankle, limped, and stumbled after it, sometimes throwing stones at it, sometimes shouting harshly; sometimes, he just
Limping, chasing after you silently, gritting your teeth when you fall down and patiently getting up, or rubbing your eyes with your hands when you feel dizzy and unable to hold on.
After such a pursuit, he actually passed through the swamp at the bottom of the valley and found some foot saplings on the damp moss. This was not his own foot camp, he could see. It must be Bill's. But he couldn't stop, because the mother pine tree
The chicken was running forward. He had to catch it first and then come back to check.
The hen grouse was exhausted from the pursuit; but he himself was also exhausted. She slumped to the ground and panted, and he also slumped to the ground and panted, only about ten feet apart.
However, he didn't have the strength to crawl over. When he recovered, and so did the cat, he stretched out his hungry hand, and it flapped its wings and escaped to a place where he couldn't catch it. The chase continued like this. It got dark.
It finally escaped. Due to his weakness, he stumbled and fell down top-heavy, scratching his face and carrying the burden on his back. He remained motionless for a long time, and then he turned over and lay on his side.
Put the watch on the ground and lie there until morning.
It was another foggy day. Half of the blanket he had left was already used as a footcloth. He found no trace of Bill. But it didn't matter. Hungry was driving him too much - but - but he couldn't.
He wondered if Bill had also lost his way. When he reached noon, he couldn't bear the burden of the burden. So he separated the gold again, but this time he only poured half of it on the ground. In the afternoon, he put the rest
The bit that came down was thrown away, and now he only had half a blanket, the tin can and the gun.
A hallucination began to torture him. He felt absolutely sure that he had one bullet left. It was in the barrel of the gun, but he never thought of it. But on the other hand, he always knew that there was a bullet in the barrel of the gun.
It was empty. But the illusion always lingered. He struggled for hours to shake off the illusion, then he opened the gun and was faced with an empty chamber. The disappointment was painful, as if he really
Hope to find that bullet.
After half an hour of trekking, the hallucination reappeared. He struggled with it again, and it clung to him until, in order to get rid of it, he opened the chamber of his gun and gave up the thought. Sometimes, he
The more he thought about it, the more he had to move forward automatically based on instinct, while letting all kinds of strange thoughts and fantasies gnaw at his brain like moths. But most of these thoughts that are divorced from reality cannot last long, because the pain of hunger is always there.
It would sting him awake. Once, when he was thinking like this, he suddenly woke up and saw something that almost made him faint. He swayed as if drunk to prevent himself from falling. In his
There was a horse standing in front of him. A horse! He couldn't believe his eyes. He felt that his eyes were completely dark, and stars were suddenly bursting out. He rubbed his eyes fiercely to let himself see clearly that it was not a horse.
But it was a big brown bear. The beast was looking at him carefully with a kind of bellicose curiosity. .
The man raised the gun to his shoulder, raised the gun halfway, and then remembered. He put the gun down and drew the hunting knife from the beaded scabbard behind the butt. Before him was meat and life. He tested the blade with his thumb.
.The blade is very sharp. The tip is also very sharp.
He would have jumped on the bear and killed it, but instead his heart began to beat like a warning. Then it jerked upward again, beating rapidly, and his head seemed to be tightened with an iron band.
I gradually felt unconscious.
His desperate courage had been dissipated by a surge of fear. In such a weakened condition, what if the beast attacked him?
He had no choice but to try his best to show an extremely majestic look, gripping the hunting knife tightly, and staring hard at the bear. It clumsily moved forward two steps, stood up straight, and let out a tentative roar.
If the man ran away, he pursued him; but the man did not run away. Now the courage born of fear had cheered him up. Likewise, he roared, and the sound was very wild and terrible, making that sound.
A life-or-death fear that tightly wraps around the foundation of life.
The bear slowly moved to the side and roared menacingly. Even the bear itself was frightened by this mysterious animal that stood upright and showed no fear. But the man remained still. He stood like a stone statue.
, until the danger passed, he shivered suddenly and fell into the wet moss.
He picked himself up again and continued to move forward, with a new fear in his heart. This was not the fear that he would be helpless and die from lack of food, but the fear that hunger had not exhausted his last bit of survival power, and he had already given in to the brutal
The land was destroyed. There were many wolves in this place. The sound of howling wolves floated around in the wilderness, intertwining into a dangerous net in the air, as if he could touch it with his hand. He was so frightened that he couldn't help but raise his hands and pointed it towards
It was pushed back as if it were a tent that had been blown tight by the wind.
The wolves often passed by him in twos and threes, but they all avoided him. One reason was that there were not many of them, and in addition, they were looking for reindeer that couldn't fight, but this strange animal that walked upright might be able to both.
Catch and bite.
In the evening he came across many scattered bones, indicating that the wolf had killed a beast here. These bones had been a young reindeer an hour ago, screaming and galloping, very active. He looked at these bones.
It has been chewed until it shines, and only some of the cells that have not died are glowing pink. Is it possible that he will become like this before dark? Is life like this, eh? It is really a kind of emptiness
, something fleeting. Only living is painful. There is nothing sad about death. Death is equal to sleep. It means the end, rest. So, why is he not willing to die?
However, his dream of these avenues did not last long. He squatted on the moss ground, holding a bone in his mouth, sucking the remaining life that still made the bone slightly red. The sweet taste of meat was as vague as the memory.
, elusive, but it drove him crazy. He clenched the bones and chewed them hard. Sometimes he broke a bit of the bone, and sometimes he broke his own teeth, so he smashed the bones with rocks and pounded them into pieces.
Then he swallowed it in his stomach. In his hurry, he sometimes hit his finger. What surprised him was that he didn't feel much pain when the stone hit his finger.
Then it rained and snowed terribly for several days. He didn't know when to sleep in the open or when to pack up. He was on the road day and night. He rested wherever he fell, and the sparks of his dying life flickered and burned slightly.
When the time comes, he slowly moves forward. He no longer struggles like a human being. What forces him to move forward is his life, because it does not want to die. He is no longer in pain. His nerves have already
He became dull and numb, and his mind was filled with strange visions and wonderful dreams.
However, he kept sucking and chewing the broken bones of the little reindeer, which were the scraps he had collected and carried with him. He no longer climbed over the mountains and ridges, but automatically followed a stream across a wide river.
He walked toward the stream in the shallow valley. But he saw neither the stream nor the valley. He only saw an illusion. Although his soul and body were walking forward side by side and crawling forward, they were separate.
The connection is already very weak.
One day, he woke up and was lying on his back on a rock with clear consciousness. The sun was bright and warm. He heard the screams of a herd of young reindeer in the distance. He only vaguely remembered that it had rained, the wind had blown, and the sky had fallen.
After snowing, he didn't know whether he was hit by the storm for two days or two weeks.
He lay motionless for a while, the gentle sun shining down on him, filling his suffering body with warmth. It was a sunny day, he thought.
Perhaps, he could find a way to determine his position. He turned his body painfully; below was a wide and slow-flowing river. He felt that this river was strange, which really surprised him. He slowly followed it.
Looking along the river, the broad river bend meandered among many bare hills, which seemed bareer, more desolate and lower than any hills he had encountered in the past. So he slowly and calmly,
Without excitement, or at most with a very casual interest, he followed the direction of this strange river and looked towards the sky, only to see it flowing into a bright and shining sea. He was still not excited. It was so strange.
Oh, he thought, this is an illusion, maybe a mirage - most likely an illusion, a trick played by his disordered nerves. Later, he saw a large ship moored on the bright sea, and he believed it even more.
It was an illusion. He closed his eyes for a while and then opened them again. It was strange that this illusion could last so long! However, it was not surprising. He knew that there would never be any sea or big ship in the center of the wilderness, just as he knew
It's like his empty gun has no bullets in it.
He heard a sniffing sound behind him - like a breathless or coughing sound. Because his body was extremely weak and stiff, he turned over very slowly. He couldn't see anything nearby, but he was patient.
Waiting.
He heard sniffing and coughing again, and between two rocks less than twenty feet away from him, he vaguely saw the head of a gray wolf. The pointed ears were not as straight as other wolves.
; Its eyes were dim and bloodshot; its head seemed to be drooping feebly and distressed. The beast kept blinking in the sunlight. It seemed to have glass. Just when he looked at it, it emitted another sound.
There were sniffling and coughing sounds. .
At least, this is always true, he thought, turning over again in order to see the real world that was previously obscured by illusions. However, there was still a glorious sea in the distance, and the ship was still clearly visible. Could this be
Really? He closed his eyes and thought for a long time, and finally figured it out. He had been walking north-east, and he had left the Dease Watershed and reached the Coppermine Valley. This broad and slow-flowing river
The river is the Coppermine River. The glorious sea is the Arctic Ocean. The ship is a whaler. It was supposed to sail to the mouth of the Mackenzie River, but it veered east, too far east, and is currently anchored in Coronation Bay.
.He remembered the map of the Hudson's Bay Company that he had seen long ago, and now, to him, it made perfect sense.
He sat up and thought about immediate matters. The blanket wrapped around his feet was worn out, and there was no good flesh on his feet. The last blanket was used up. The gun and hunting knife were also missing. I don't know where his hat was.
It was lost somewhere, and the small pack of matches in the hat ring was also lost. However, the pack of matches wrapped in oil paper that was placed close to his chest in the tobacco bag was still there, and it was dry. He looked at the watch. The hour hand pointed
It was eleven o'clock and the watch was still running. It was clear that he had not forgotten to turn it on.
He was calm and composed. Although his body was extremely weak, he did not feel any pain. He was not hungry at all. Even the thought of food did not produce pleasure.
Now, no matter what he did, he only relied on reason. He tore off two trouser legs at the knees and used them to bind his feet. He finally saved the tin can. He planned to drink some hot water first, and then start walking towards the boat.
, he had already expected that this would be a terrifying journey.
His movements were very slow. He seemed to be trembling with hemiplegia. When he was about to collect dry moss, he realized that he could no longer stand up. He tried again and again, but finally gave up and used
He crawled around on his hands and knees. Once, he crawled close to the sick wolf. The beast reluctantly avoided him and licked it with a tongue that seemed to have no strength to even bend.
His gums. This person noticed that his tongue was not the usual healthy red color, but a dark yellow color, as if covered with a rough, semi-dry mucous membrane.
After this man drank the hot water, he felt that he could stand up and even walk as he imagined a dying person would. Every minute or two he walked, he had to stop and rest. His steps were weak.
Weak and unstable, just as soft and unstable as the wolf following him; that night, when darkness enveloped the glorious sea, he knew that the distance between him and the sea had only shortened.
To four miles.
That night, he always heard the sound of the sick wolf coughing, and sometimes he heard the cry of a herd of young reindeer. There was life all around him, but it was strong life, very active and healthy life,
At the same time, he also knew that the reason why the sick wolf followed the patient closely was because he wanted him to die first. In the morning, as soon as he opened his eyes, he saw the beast staring at him with a hungry look. It squatted with its tail between its legs.
There, it looked like a poor, unfortunate dog. The cold morning wind made it shiver, and every time the man managed to bark at it like a low purr, it bared its teeth listlessly.
The sun rose brightly, and this morning, he had been stumbling toward the ship on the shining ocean. The weather was wonderful. This was the kind of short late autumn in high latitudes. It
Maybe for a week. Maybe it will end tomorrow or the day after tomorrow.
In the afternoon, this man found some traces, which were left by another person. He did not walk, but crawled. He thought it might be Bill, but he just thought about it indifferently. He had no curiosity. Facts
He had long since lost interest and enthusiasm. He no longer felt pain. His stomach and nerves were asleep. But the life within forced him forward. He was very tired, but his life refused to die.
.It is precisely because life does not want to die that he still eats berries and minnows on the swamp, drinks hot water, and is always on guard against the sick wolf.
He followed the traces of the struggling man and soon reached the end - there were a few recently gnawed bones spread out on the damp moss, and there were many wolf feet nearby. He found a person similar to himself.
The thick buckskin bag was exactly the same, but it had been bitten by sharp teeth. His weak hands could no longer lift such a heavy bag, but he finally lifted it up. Bill carried it with him until his death.
It. Haha! He can laugh at Bill.
He could live and take it to the boat in the glorious ocean. His laughter was rough and terrible, just like the crow's strange cry, and the sick wolf followed him, howling miserably. Suddenly,
He stopped laughing. If these were really Bill's bones, how could he laugh at Bill? What if these red and white, gnawed bones were really Bill's?
He turned and walked away. Yes, Bill had deserted him; but he would not take the bag of gold or suck Bill's bones. But if things had been turned around, Bill might have been able to do it, he shook his head.
Staggering forward, I secretly thought about these situations.
He came to a puddle. Just as he bent down to look for minnows, he raised his head suddenly, as if he had been poked. He saw his own danger reflected in the water. The look on his face was so terrifying that he was momentarily stunned.
He regained consciousness and was shocked. There were three minnows in the pit, but the pit was too big to scoop out. He tried to catch it with a tin can, but failed after several attempts. Then he stopped trying. He was afraid of himself.
Due to extreme weakness, he would fall in and drown. Moreover, it was precisely because of this layer that he did not step on the logs floating side by side along the sandbar and let the river carry him away.
That day the distance between him and the boat was shortened by three miles; the next day it was shortened by another two miles - for now he was climbing as Bill had been; and at the end of the fifth day he found the boat.
The boat was still seven miles away from him, and he could not climb even a mile a day. Fortunately, the weather continued to clear up, so he continued to crawl, continued to faint, and kept crawling; and the wolf always followed him
, coughing and wheezing constantly. His knees were as bloody as his feet, and even though he tore off his shirt to pad his knees, there were still blood stains on the moss and rocks behind him. Once, he looked back
Seeing the sick wolf licking his blood in a panic, he couldn't help but clearly see the possible outcome for him - unless - unless he killed the wolf. So, a scene that had never been performed before
The cruel tragedy of survival begins - the patient crawls all the way, the sick wolf limps all the way, and the two creatures drag their dying bodies in the wilderness, preying on each other's lives.
If this was a healthy wolf, then he didn't think it mattered much. However, the thought of feeding such a disgusting wolf with only one breath left him felt very disgusted. He was so picky.
.Now, his mind began to have random thoughts again, and was confused by hallucinations, and the times when he was conscious and clear became less and less.
Once, he was awakened from his coma by a sound of breathing close to his ear. The wolf jumped back with a limp. Because of its weakness, it lost its footing and fell. It looked very funny, but he
It wasn't interesting at all. He wasn't even afraid. He had come to a point where he couldn't talk about that. But for a moment, his mind was clear, and he lay there and thought about it carefully.
The ship was only four miles away from him. After wiping his eyes, he could see it clearly. At the same time, he also made out the white sail of a small boat plowing through the waves in the shining sea. But no matter what, he
He couldn't even climb the four miles. He knew this, and after knowing it, he was very calm. He knew that he couldn't even climb half a mile. However, he still had to live. After going through thousands of hardships
It was too unreasonable that he would die after all the hardships. Fate was too harsh to him, but even though he was dying, he was still unwilling to die. Perhaps, this idea was completely crazy, but even when death came,
In its iron grasp, he still wanted to resist it and refused to die.
He closed his eyes and calmed himself down very carefully. Tiredness surged up from every part of his body like a rising tide, but he braced himself and never let this suffocating fatigue overwhelm him. This was
This terrible tiredness was like a sea, rising again and again, submerging his consciousness little by little. Sometimes, he was almost completely submerged, and he could only paddle with his weak hands, drifting through the black vastness.
However, sometimes, with a strange spiritual effect, he would find a little more perseverance and paddle even harder.
He lay motionless on his back. Now, he could hear the sick wolf breathing in and out, slowly approaching him. It was getting closer and closer, always approaching him, as if it had gone through infinite time.
It took a while, but he still didn't move. It had reached his ear. The rough dry tongue was rubbing his cheeks like sandpaper. His two hands suddenly stretched out - or, at least, they were
He used perseverance to make them stretch out. His fingers were bent like eagle talons, but he missed them. Agility and accuracy require strength, and he did not have this strength.
That wolf's patience was truly terrifying. This man's patience was equally terrifying.
For half of that day, he lay still, fighting against coma, waiting for the thing that was going to eat him, and he hoped to eat it. Sometimes, the wave of tiredness came up and overwhelmed him,
He would have long dreams; but throughout the whole process, whether awake or dreaming, he was waiting for that gasp and that rough tongue to lick him.
He didn't hear the gasp. He just slowly woke up from his dream and felt a tongue licking along one of his hands. He waited quietly. The wolf's fang gently clasped his hand.
It's on; it's fastened; the wolf is using its last strength to bite its teeth into the thing it has been waiting for a long time. But the man has also been waiting for a long time, and the bitten hand also grasps the wolf's gums. So
, Slowly, while the wolf was struggling feebly and his hand was pinching feebly, his other hand had slowly come over and grabbed the wolf. Five minutes later, this man had already wiped out the whole body.
The weight was all on the wolf. Although the strength of his hands was not enough to strangle the wolf to death, his face had already pressed tightly against the wolf's throat, and his mouth was already full of wolf hair. Half an hour later, this
The man felt a small stream of warm liquid slowly flow into his throat. This stuff was not delicious, just like liquid lead forced into his stomach, and it was forced down purely by will. Later, this man
He turned over and fell asleep on his back.
There were several members of the scientific expedition team on the whaling ship "Bedford". From the deck, they saw a strange thing on the shore. It was moving toward the water below the beach. They could not tell what kind of animal it was.
, but, because they were all scientific people, they took a whaleboat next to the ship and went to the shore to check. Then, they found a living animal, but it was difficult to call it a human being. It had already
Blind and unconscious. It was like a big bug crawling on the ground. Most of its efforts were ineffective, but it kept on shaking and twisting forward. As it did, it didn't move at all.
The bell can probably climb twenty feet.
Three weeks later, the man was lying in a bunk on the whaling ship Whiteford, with tears streaming down his thin cheeks. He told who he was and everything he had passed through.
He spoke vaguely and incoherently of his mother, of sunny Southern California, and of his home among the orange trees and flowers.
Within a few days, he was sitting at a table with the scientists and crew members for dinner. He looked at the so many delicious things in front of him with greedy eyes and anxiously watched them slip into other people's mouths. Every time
When others swallowed a mouthful, there would be an expression of deep regret in his eyes. He was very conscious, but every time he ate, he could not help but hate these people. He was obsessed with fear,
He was always afraid that the food would not last long. He asked the cook, the cabin steward and the captain about the amount of food stored. They assured him countless times, but he still did not believe it, and would still slyly sneak near the storeroom to pry in person.
It seems that this man is getting fat. He is getting a little fatter every day. The scientific people are shaking their heads and putting forward their theories. They have restricted the man's food intake, but his waistline is still increasing and his body is fat.
amazing.
The sailors were all grinning. They knew it well. When these scientists sent people to monitor him, they also knew it. They saw him walking sluggishly after breakfast, and would be like a beggar, asking
A sailor held out his hand. The sailor smiled and handed him a piece of hard bread. He took it greedily, looked at it like a miser looking at gold, and stuffed it into his shirt. The other guy grinned.
The laughing sailor gave him the same gift.
These scientific men were cautious. They let him go, but they often secretly inspected his bed. There were rows of hard bread on it, and the mattress was filled with hard bread; every corner was stuffed with hard bread.
Full of hard bread. Yet he was very clear-headed. He was preparing for another possible famine--that's what happened. People of science said he would get back to normal; and so it was, and the Whiteford's
Before the anchor rumbled down in San Francisco Bay, he was normal.
