smoke bellew(史沫克·贝罗)-第3部分
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dressed as any woman travelling anywhere would be dressed。 What
struck him was the justness of her being there； a feeling that somehow she
belonged。 Moreover； she was young and pretty。 The bright beauty and
colour of her oval face held him； and he looked over…longlooked till she
resented； and her own eyes； long…lashed and dark； met his in cool survey。
From his face they travelled in evident amusement down to the big
revolver at his thigh。 Then her eyes came back to his； and in them was
amused contempt。 It struck him like a blow。 She turned to the man
beside her and indicated Kit。 The man glanced him over with the same
amused contempt。
〃Chechaquo；〃 the girl said。
The man； who looked like a tramp in his cheap overalls and
dilapidated woollen jacket； grinned dryly； and Kit felt withered though he
knew not why。 But anyway she was an unusually pretty girl； he decided；
as the two moved off。 He noted the way of her walk； and recorded the
judgment that he would recognize it after the lapse of a thousand years。
〃Did you see that man with the girl？〃 Kit's neighbour asked him
excitedly。 〃Know who he is？〃
Kit shook his head。
〃Cariboo Charley。 He was just pointed out to me。 He struck it big
on Klondike。 Old timer。 Been on the Yukon a dozen years。 He's just
come out。〃
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Smoke Bellew
〃What's chechaquo mean？〃 Kit asked。
〃You're one； I'm one；〃 was the answer。
〃Maybe I am； but you've got to search me。 What does it mean？〃
〃Tender…foot。〃
On his way back to the beach Kit turned the phrase over and over。 It
rankled to be called tender…foot by a slender chit of a woman。
Going into a corner among the heaps of freight； his mind still filled
with the vision of the Indian with the redoubtable pack； Kit essayed to
learn his own strength。 He picked out a sack of flour which he knew
weighed an even hundred pounds。 He stepped astride of it； reached down；
and strove to get it on his shoulder。 His first conclusion was that one
hundred pounds was the real heavy。 His next was that his back was weak。
His third was an oath； and it occurred at the end of five futile minutes；
when he collapsed on top of the burden with which he was wrestling。 He
mopped his forehead； and across a heap of grub…sacks saw John Bellew
gazing at him； wintry amusement in his eyes。
〃God！〃 proclaimed that apostle of the hard。 〃Out of our loins has
come a race of weaklings。 When I was sixteen I toyed with things like
that。〃
〃You forget； avuncular；〃 Kit retorted； 〃that I wasn't raised on bear…
meat。〃
〃And I'll toy with it when I'm sixty。〃
〃You've got to show me。〃
John Bellew did。 He was forty…eight； but he bent over the sack；
applied a tentative； shifting grip that balanced it； and； with a quick heave；
stood erect； the somersaulted sack of flour on his shoulder。
〃Knack； my boy； knackand a spine。〃
Kit took off his hat reverently。
〃You're a wonder； avuncular； a shining wonder。 D'ye think I can
learn the knack？〃
John Bellew shrugged his shoulders。
〃You'll be hitting the back trail before we get started。〃
〃Never you fear；〃 Kit groaned。 〃There's O'Hara； the roaring lion；
down there。 I'm not going back till I have to。〃
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III。
Kit's first pack was a success。 Up to Finnegan's Crossing they had
managed to get Indians to carry the twenty…five hundred…pound outfit。
From that point their own backs must do the work。 They planned to
move forward at the rate of a mile a day。 It looked easyon paper。
Since John Bellew was to stay in camp and do the cooking； he would be
unable to make more than an occasional pack； so； to each of the three
young men fell the task of carrying eight hundred pounds one mile each
day。 If they made fifty…pound packs； it meant a daily walk of sixteen
miles loaded and of fifteen miles light〃Because we don't back…trip the
last time；〃 Kit explained the pleasant discovery； eighty…pound packs meant
nineteen miles travel each day； and hundred…pound packs meant only
fifteen miles。
〃I don't like walking；〃 said Kit。 〃Therefore I shall carry one hundred
pounds。〃 He caught the grin of incredulity on his uncle's face； and added
hastily： 〃Of course I shall work up to it。 A fellow's got to learn the
ropes and tricks。 I'll start with fifty。〃
He did； and ambled gaily along the trail。 He dropped the sack at the
next camp…site and ambled back。 It was easier than he had thought。 But
two miles had rubbed off the velvet of his strength and exposed the
underlying softness。 His second pack was sixty…five pounds。 It was
more difficult； and he no longer ambled。 Several times； following the
custom of all packers； he sat down on the ground； resting the pack behind
him on a rock or stump。 With the third pack he became bold。 He
fastened the straps to a ninety…five… pound sack of beans and started。 At
the end of a hundred yards he felt that he must collapse。 He sat down
and mopped his face。
〃Short hauls and short rests；〃 he muttered。 〃That's the trick。〃
Sometimes he did not make a hundred yards； and each time he
struggled to his feet for another short haul the pack became undeniably
heavier。 He panted for breath； and the sweat streamed from him。
Before he had covered a quarter of a mile he stripped off his woollen shirt
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and hung it on a tree。 A little later he discarded his hat。 At the end of
half a mile he decided he was finished。 He had never exerted himself so
in his life； and he knew that he was finished。 As he sat and panted； his
gaze fell upon the big revolver and the heavy cartridge…belt。
〃Ten pounds of junk；〃 he sneered； as he unbuckled it。
He did not bother to hang it on a tree； but flung it into the underbush。
And as the steady tide of packers flowed by him； up trail and down； he
noted that the other tender…feet were beginning to shed their shooting
irons。
His short hauls decreased。 At times a hundred feet was all he could
stagger； and then the ominous pounding of his heart against his ear… drums
and the sickening totteriness of his knees compelled him to rest。 And his
rests grew longer。 But his mind was busy。 It was a twenty…eight mile
portage； which represented as many days； and this； by all accounts； was
the easiest part of it。 〃Wait till you get to Chilcoot；〃 others told him as
they rested and talked； 〃where you climb with hands and feet。〃
〃They ain't going to be no Chilcoot；〃 was his answer。 〃Not for me。
Long before that I'll be at peace in my little couch beneath the moss。〃
A slip； and a violent wrenching effort at recovery； frightened him。 He
felt that everything inside him had been torn asunder。
〃If ever I fall down with this on my back I'm a goner；〃 he told another
packer。
〃That's nothing；〃 came the answer。 〃Wait till you hit the Canyon。
You'll have to cross a raging torrent on a sixty…foot pine tree。 No guide
ropes； nothing； and the water boiling at the sag of the log to your knees。
If you fall with a pack on your back； there's no getting out of the straps。
You just stay there and drown。〃
〃Sounds good to me；〃 he retorted； and out of the depths of his
exhaustion he almost half meant it。
〃They drown three or four a day there；〃 the man assured him。 〃I
helped fish a German out there。 He had four thousand in greenbacks on
him。〃
〃Cheerful； I must say；〃 said Kit； battling his way to his feet and
tottering on。
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He and the sack of beans became a perambulating tragedy。 It
reminded him of the old man of the sea who sat on Sinbad's neck。 And this
was one of those intensely masculine vacations； he meditated。 Compared
with it； the servitude to O'Hara was sweet。 Again and again he was nearly
seduced by the thought of abandoning the sack of beans in the brush and
of sneaking around the camp to the beach and catching a steamer for
civilization。 Bu
