（
位面商人之强国梦）（
总裁霸爱·老婆，休想离婚）（
天价赌神魔手妖女）（
绝品高手）（
行长,请放手）（
腹黑嫡女）by jack london
whean journeys intar country,mustpreparedfet manythe thingshas learned, andacquire such customsare inherent with existencethe new land;must abandon the old ideals and the old gods, and oftentimesmust reverse the very codeswhich his conduct has hitherto bee those who have the protean facultyadaptability, the noveltysuch change may evena sourcepleasure; butthose who happenbe hardenedthe rutswhich they were created, the pressurethe altered environmentunbearable, and they chafebody andspirit under the new restrictions which theyno chafingboundact and react, producing divers evils and leadingvariou were better for the man who cannot fit himselfthe new groovereturnhis own country;he delay too long,will surely die.
the man who turns his back upon the fortsan elder civilization,face the savage youth, the primordial simplicitythe north, may estimate successan inverse ratiothe quantity and qualityhis hopelessly fixe will soon discover,hea fit candidate, that the material habits are the les exchangesuch thingsa dainty menu for rough fare,the stiff leather shoe for the soft, shapeless moccasin,the feather bed foouchthe snow,after alery easy matter.
but his pinch will elearning properlyshape his mind’s attitude toward all things, and especially toward his fello the courtesiesordinary life,must substitute unselfishness, forbearance, an, and thus only, cangain that pearlgreat price, tru must not say “thank you;”must meanwithout opening his mouth, and proveby respondinhort,must substitute the deed for the word, the spirit for the letter.
when the world rang with the talearctic gold, and the lurethe north gripped the heartstringsmen, carter weatherbee threwhis snug clerkship, turned the halfhis savings overhis wife, and with the remainder boughasromancehis nature, the bondagemerce had crushed all that;was simply tiredthe ceaseless grind, and wishedrisk great hazardsviewcorrespondin many another fool, disdaining the old trails usedthe northland pioneers focoreyears,hurriededmontonthe springthe year; and there, unluckily for his soul’s welfare,allied himself witartymen.
there was nothing unusual about this party, exceptits goal, like thatall other parties, wasthe routehad mapped outattain that goal took away the breaththe hardiest native, born and bredthe vicissitudesth jacques baptiste, borna chippewa woman anenegade voyageur (having raised his first whimpersa deerskin lodge norththe sixty fifth parallel, and had the same hushedblissful sucksraw tallow),he sold his servicesthem and agreedtravel eventhe never opening ice,shook his head ominously whenever his advice was asked.
percy cuthfert’s evil star must have beenthe ascendant, for he, too, joined this panasordinary man, witank accountdeephis culture, whichsayinoo hadreasonembarksucenture,reasonthe world, save thatsuffered fromabnormal developmenistook this for the true spiritromanceanother man has dohe like, and madefataistake.
the first breakof spring found the party following the ice runel wasimposing fleet, for the outfit was large, and they were acpanieda disreputable contingenthalf breed voyageurs with their womenin and day out, they labored with the bateaux and canoes, fought mosquitoes and other kindred pests,sweated and sworeth toil like this layan nakedthe very rootshis soul, and ere lake athabasca was lostthe south, each memberthe party had hoisted his true colors.
the two shirks and chronic grumblers were carter weatherbee and perc whole party plained lessits aches and pains than did eithence did they volunteer for the thousand and one petty dutiesthwaterbe brought,extra armfulwoodbe chopped, the dishesbe washed and wiped, a searchbe made through the outfit for some suddenly indispensable article, and these two effete scionscivilization discovered sprainsblisters requiring instan were the firstturnat night, witcoretasks yet undone; the lastturn outthe morning, when the start shouldin readiness before the breakfast was begun.
they were the firstfallat meal time, the lasthavandthe cooking; the firstdive folim delicacy, the lastdiscover they had addedtheir own another man’ they toiledthe oars, they slyly cut the watereach stroke and allowed the boat’s momentumfloatth thought nobody noticed; but their rades swore under their breaths and grewhate them, while jacques baptiste sneered openly and damned them from morning til jacques baptiste wasgentleman.
at the great slave, hudson bay dogs were purchased, and the fleet sankthe guards with its added burdendried fishcanoe and bateau answeredthe swift currentthe mackenzie, and they plunged into the great barre likely looking “feeder” was prospected, but the elusive “pay dirt” danced everth the great bear, overethe mon dreadthe unknown lands, their voyageurs begandesert, and fortgood hope saw the last and bravest bendingthe tow linesthey bucked the current down which they hadtreacherousl baptiste alonnot sworntravel eventhe never opening ice?
the lying charts, piledmain from hearsay, were now constantl they felt the needhurry, for the sun had already passed its northern solstice and was leading the winter sout the shoresthe bay, where the mackenzie disembogues into the arctic ocean, they entered the mouththe little pee began the arduousstream toil, and the two incapables fared worse tha line and pole, paddle and tump line, rapids and portages, such tortures servedgive the oneep digust for great hazards, and printed for the otheiery textthe true romancay they waxed mutinous, and being vilely cursedjacques baptiste, turned,worms sometime the half breed thrashed the twain, and sent them, bruised and bleeding, about thei was the first time either had been man handled.
abandoning their river craftthe head watersthe little peel, they consumed the restthe summerthe great portage over the mackenzie watershedthe wes little stream fed the porcupine, whichturn joined the yukon where that mighty highwaythe north countermarchesthe arcti they had lostthe race with winter, and one day they tied their raftsthe thick eddy ice and hurried their good night the river jammed and broke several times; the following morninghad fallen asleep for good.
“we can’tmorefour hundred miles from the yukon,” concluded sloper, multiplying his thumb nailsthe scaleth council,which the two incapables had whinedexcellent disadvantage, was drawinga close.“hudson bay post, long tim usenow.”jacques baptiste’s father had made the trip for the fur panythe old days, incidentally marking the trail witouplefrozen toes.
“sufferin’ cracky!” cried anotherthe party.“no whites?”
“nary white,” sloper sententiously affirmed; “but it’s only five hundred morethe yukonrough thousand from here.”
weatherbee and cuthfert groanedchorus.
“how long’ll that take, baptiste?”
the half breed figured fooment.“workum like hell,man play out, ten twenty forty fift babies e” (designating the incapables), “nowhen hell freeze over; mebbe not then.”
the manufacturesnowshoes and moccasin called the namean absent member, who came outan ancient cabinthe edgethe camp fire and joine cabin was onethe many mysteries which lurkthe vast recessesth when andwhom,man coul gravesthe open, piled high with stones, perhaps contained the secretthose earl whose hand had piled the stones?
the momentbaptiste pausedthe fittinga harness and pinned the struggling dogth cook made mute protest for delay, threandfulbacon intoisy potbeans, then camosehi body waudicrous contrastthe healthy physiquesth and weak, fleeing froouth american fever hole,had not broken his flight across the zones, and was still abletoil wit weight was probably niy pounds, with the heavy hunting knife thrown in, and his grizzled hair tolda prime which had fresh young muscleseither weatherbeecuthfert were equalten times the endeavorhis; yetcould walk them into the eartha day’ all this dayhad whipped his stronger rades into venturinhousand milesthe stiffest hardship manwas the incarnationthe unresthis race, and the old teutonic stubbornness, dashed with the quick grasp and actionthe yankee, held the fleshthe bondagethe spirit.
“all thosefavorgoingwith the dogssoonthe ice sets, say ay.”
“ay!” rang out eight voices, voices destinedstrinrailoaths along manundred milespain.
“contrary minded?”
“no!”for the first time the incapables were united without some promisepersonal interests.
“and what are you goingdo about it?” weatherbee added belligerently.
“majority rule!majority rule!” clamored the restthe party.
“i know the expeditionliablefall throughyou don’t e,” sloper replied sweetly; “buuess,we try real hard,can managedo withouyou say, boys?”
the sentiment was cheeredthe echo.
“buay, you know,” cuthfert ventured apprehensively; “what’hap liketo do?”
“ain’t you ing with us?”
“no o.”
“thenas you damn wel won’t have nothingsay.”
“kind o’ calkilate yuh might settlewith that canoodlin’ pardneryourn,” suggesteeavy going westerner from the dakotas,the same time pointing out weatherbee.“he’llshoreask yuh what yuoin’do whenescookin’ an’ gatherin’ the wood.”
“then we’ll considerall arranged,” concluded sloper.“we’ll pull outmorrow,we camp within five miles, justget everythingrunning order and rememberwe ’ve fotten anything.”
the sleds groanedon their steel shod runners, and the dogs strained lowthe harnesseswhich they were boraptiste pausedthe sideslopergeast glimpseth smoke curledpathetically from the yukon stov two incapables were watching them from the doorway.
sloper laid his handthe other’s shoulder.
“jacques baptiste, did you ever hearthe kilkenny cats?”
the half breed shook his head.
“well,friend and good rade, the kilkenny cats fought till neither hide, nor hair, nor yowl,understand? till nothing, these two men don’t lik won’ kno’llall alonethat cabin all winter, a mighty long, dar cats, well?”
the frenchmanbaptiste shrugged his shoulders, but the indianhim wa,waseloquent shrug, pregnant with prophecy.
things prosperedthe little cabiough badinagetheir rades had made weatherbee and cuthfert consciousthe mutual responsibility which had devolved upon them; besides, there was notmuch work after all for two health the removalthe cruel whip hand,in other words the bulldozing half breed, had brought witha joyou first, each stroveoutdo the other, and they performed petty tasks withunction which would have opened the eyestheir rades who were now wearing out bodies and soulsthe long trail.
all careforest, which shoulderedupon them from three sides, wasinexhaustibl yards from their door slept the porcupine, anole through its winter robe formeubbling springwater, crystal clear and painfull they soon grewfind fault with eve hole would persistfreezing up, and thus gave them maniserable houric unknown buildersthe cabin had extended the side logsassupporacheth this was stored the bulkthe party’ there was, without stint, for three times the men who were fatedlive upon it.
but the mostit wasthe kind which builtbrawn and sinew, but did not tickle th, there was sugarplenty for two ordinary men; but these two were little else tha early discovered the virtueshot water judiciously saturated with sugar, and they prodigally swam their flapjacks and soaked their cruststhe rich, whit coffee and tea, and especially the dried fruits, made disastrous inroads upon it.the first words they had were over the sugaieally serious thing when two men, wholly dependent upon each other for pany, beginquarrel.
weatherbee loveddiscourse blatantlypolitics, while cuthfert, who had been proo clip his coupons and let the monwealth jogas bestmight, either ignored the subjectdelivered himselfstartlin the clerk was too obtuseappreciate the clever shapingthought, and this wasteammunition irritate had been usedblinding peoplehis brilliancy, andworked him quitardship, this lossa felt personally aggrieved and unconsciously held his mutton head panion responsible for it.
save existence, they had nothingmon, cametouchno singl walerk who had known naught but clerking all his life; cuthfert waasterarts, a dabbleroils, and had written not one waower class man who considered himselentleman, and the other waentleman who knew himselfbe such.
from thismayremarked thaan cana gentleman without possessing the first instincttru clerk wassensuousthe other was aesthetic, and his love adventures, toldgreat length and chiefly coined from his imagination, affected the supersensitive masterartsthe same wayso many whiffssewe deemed the clerilthy, uncultured brute, whose place wasthe muck with the swine, and told him so; andwas reciprocally informed thatwailk and water sissy and could not have defined “cad” for his life; butsatisfied its purpose, which after all seems the main pointlife.
weatherbee flatted every third note and sang such songs“the boston burglar” and “the handsome cabin boy,” for hoursa time, while cuthfert wept with rage, tillcould standno longer and fled into the oute there wantense frost could notendured for longa time, and the little cabin crowded them beds, stove, table, and all intpaceteery presenceeither becamersonal affrontthe other, and they lapsed into sullen silences which increasedlength and strengththe days went by.occasionally, the flashan eyethe curla lip got the betterthem, though they strovewholly ignore each other during these mureat wonder sprangin the breasteach,to how god had ever ecreate the other.
with littledo, time becameintolerable burdeaturally made them stil sank inthysical lethargy which there wasescaping, and which made them rebelthe performancethe smalles morning whenwas his turncook the mon breakfast, weatherbee rolled outhis blankets, andthe snoringhis panion, lighted first the slush lamp and thenkettles were frozen hard, and there waswaterthe cabin with whichwash.
butdid not min forto thaw,sliced the bacon and plunged into the hateful taskbrea had been slyly watching through his half close there wacene,which they fervently blessed each other, and agreed, thenceforth, that eachhislater, cuthfert neglected his morning ablutions, but nohe less placently ate the meal whichha that the foolish customwashing passed outtheir lives.
as the sugar pile and other little luxuries dwindled, they beganbe afraid they were not getting their proper shares, andorder that they might notrobbed, they fellgin luxuries sufferedthis gluttonous contest,did alsothe absencefresh vegetables and exercise, their blood became impoverished, anoathsome, purplish rash crept over thei they refusedheed th, their muscles and joints beganswell, the flesh turning black, while their mouths, gums, and lips tookthe colorricbeing drawn togethertheir misery, each gloated over the other’s symptomsthe scurvy took its course.
they lost all regard for personal appearance, and for that matter,cabin becamigpen, and never once were the beds madefresh pine boughs lai they could not keeptheir blankets,they would have wished; for the frost was inexorable, and the fire box consumed muc hairtheir heads and faces grew long and shaggy, while their garments would have disgusted they didwere sick, and there wasoo see; besides,was very painfulmove about.
to all this was addeew trouble, the fearth fear was the joint childthe great cold and the great silence, and was bornthe darknessdecember, when the sun dipped below the southern horizonaffected them accordingthei fell preythe grosser superstitions, and did his bestresurrect the spirits which sleptthe fotte waascinating thing, andhis dreams they camehim from outthe cold, and snuggled into his blankets, and told himtheir toils and troubles ere they died.
he shrank away from the clammy contactthey drew closer and twined their frozen limbs about him, and when they whisperedhis earthingse, the cabin rang with his frightene did not understand, for theylonger spoke, and when thus awakenedinvariably grabbed forhe would sitin bed, shivering nervously, with the weapon trainedthe unconsciou deemed the man going mad, andcamefear for his life.
his own malady assumeess concret mysterious artisan who had laid the cabin, loglog, had peggeind vao the ridg noticedalways pointed south, and one day, irritatedits steadfastnesspurpose,turnedtowardwatched eagerly, but nevereath cameto disturb it.thenturned the vao the north, swearing never againtouchtill the windthe air frightened him with its unearthly calm, andoften rosethe middlethe nightseethe vane had veered, ten degrees would have satisfied him.
but no,poised above himunchangeablmagination ran riot, tillbecamehim followed the pathpointed across the dismal dominions, and allowed his soulbee saturated withdwelt upon the unseen and the unknown till the burdeneternity appearedbe crushinthe northland had that crushing effect, the absencelife and motion; the darkness; the infinite peacethe brooding land; the ghastly silence, which made the echoeach heart beaacrilege; the solemn forest which seemedguardawful, inexpressible something, which neither word nor thought could pass.
the worldhadrecently left, with its busy nations and great enterprises, seemed veryoccasionally obtruded, recollectionsmarts and galleries and crowded thoroughfares,evening dress and social functions,good men and dear womenhad known, but they were dim memoriesa lifehad lived long centuries agone,some othe phantasm wasbeneath the wind vane, his eyes fixedthe polar skies,could not bring himselfrealize that the southland really existed, thatthat very momentwaoar with lifewassouthland,men being bornwomen,giving and takingmarriage.
beyond his bleak sky lihere stretched vast solitudes, and beyond these still vaste werelandssunshine, heavy with the perfumhings were only old dreamunlandsthe west and the spicelandsthe east, the smiling arcadias and blissful islandsthe blest, ha! ha!his laughter split the void and shocked him with its unwonte waas the universe, dead and cold and dark, andits onl?at such moments weatherbee didwaaliban, a monstrous phantom, fetteredhim for untold ages, the penaltysome fotten crime.
he lived with death among the dead, emasculatedthe sensehis own insignificance, crushedthe passive masterythe slumberin magnitudeall things appalle partookthe superlative save himself, the perfect cessationwind and motion, the immensitythe snow covered wilderness, the heightthe sky and the depthth wind vane,it would onhunderbolt would fall,the forest flarei rollingof the heavensa scroll, the crashdoom anything, anything!but no, nothing moved; the silence crowded in, and the fearthe north laid icy fingershis heart.
once, like another crusoe,the edgethe rivercame uporack, the faint tracerya snowshoe rabbitthe delicate sno was was lifeth would follow it, look upon it, gloat over it.he fot his swollen muscles, plunging through the deep snowan ecstasorest swallowed him up, and the brief midday twilight vanished; butpursued his quest till exhausted nature asserted itself and laid him helplessthgroaned and cursed his folly, and knew the trackbe the fancyhis brain; and late that nightdragged himself into the cabinhands and knees, his cheeks frozen antrange numbness aboutgrinned malevolently, but madeofferhel thrust needles into his toes and thawed them outth later mortification set in.
but the clerk had hisdead men came outtheir graves more frequently now, and rarely left him, wakinrewwait and dread their ing, never passing the twin cairns without night they camehimhis sleep and led him forthan appointe into inarticulate horror,awoke between the heapsstones and fled wildlythhad lain there for some time, for his feet and cheeks were also frozen.
sometimesbecame frantictheir insistent presence, and danced about the cabin, cutting the empty air withaxe, and smashing everything withi these ghostly encounters, cuthfert huddled into his blankets and followed the madman about witocked revolver, readyshoot himhe came to, recovering from onethese spells, the clerk noticed the weapon trained upo suspicions were aroused, and thenceforth he, too, livedfearhi watched each other closely after that, and faced aboutstartled fright whenever either passed behind the other’ apprehensiveness becamania which controlled them eventhei mutual fear they tacitly let the slush lamp burn all night, and sawa plentiful supplybacon grease befor slightest movementthe partone was sufficientarouse the other, and mantill watch their gazes counteredthey shook beneath their blankets with fingersthe trigger guards.
what with the fearthe north, the mental strain, and the ravagesthe disease, they lost all semblancehumanity, takingthe appearancewild beasts, huntedcheeks and noses,an aftermaththe freezing, had turne frozen toes had begundrop awaythe first and secon movement brought pain, but the fire box was insatiable, wringinansomtorture from their miserabl in, day out,demanded its food, a veritable poundflesh, and they dragged themselves into the forestchop woodthei, crawling thussearchdry sticks, unknowneach other they enterehicket from opposite sides.
suddenly, without warning, two peering death’s heads confronted eac hadtransformed them that recognitionsprangtheir feet, shrieking with terror, and dashed awaytheir mangled stumps; and fallingthe cabin door, they clawed and scratched like demons till they discovered their mistake.
occasionally they lapsed normal, and during onethese sane intervals, the chief bonecontention, the sugar, had been divided equally betwee guarded their separate sacks, storedin the cache, with jealous eyes; for there were buew cupfuls left, and they were totally devoidfaitheac one day cuthfert made ablemove, sick with pain, with his head swimming and eyes blinded,crept into the cache, sugar canisterhand, and mistook weatherbee’s sack for his own.
january had been born buew days when thi sun had some time since passed its lowest southern declination, andmeridian now threw flaunting streaksyellow light upon the norther the day following his mistake with the sugar bag, cuthfert found himself feeling better, bothbody anoontime drew near and the day brightened,dragged himself outsidefeastthe evanescent glow, which washimearnestthe sun’s futur was also feeling somewhat better, and crawled out besid propped themselvesthe snow beneath the moveless wind vane, and waited.
the stillnessdeath was abou other climes, when nature falls into such moods, therea subdued airexpectancy, a waiting for some small voicetakethe brokeintwo men had lived seeming aeonsthis ghostl could remembersongthe past; they could conjuresongth unearthly calm had always been, the tranquil silenceeternity.
their eyes were fixed upon th, behind their backs, behind the towering mountainsthe south, the sun swept toward the zenithanother sky tha spectatorsthe mighty canvas, they watched the false dawn slowl flame beganglow and smoulder.
it deepenedintensity, ringing the changesreddish yellow, purple,bright didbee that cuthfert thought the sun must surelybehind it, a miracle, the sun risingthe north!suddenly, without warning and without fading, the canvas was swep wascolorth light had gone outth caught their breathshal lo! the air walint with particlesscintillating frost, and there,the north, the wind vane layvague outlineth!a shadow!it was exactl jerked their heads hurriedlyth rim peeped over the mountain’s snowy shoulder, smiled upon theminstant, then dipped from sight again.
there were tearstheir eyesthey sought eac softening came ove felt irresistibly drawn toward eac sun was ing bac wouldwith themmorrow, and the next day, andit would stay longer every visit, anime would e whenwould ride their heaven day and night, never once dropping below the sky line.
there wouldn ice locked winter wouldbroken; the winds would blow and the forests answer; the land would bathethe blessed sunshine, and lifhand, they would quit this horrid dream and journey backth lurched blindly forward, and their hands met, their poor maimed hands, swollen and distorted beneath their mittens.
but the promise was destinedremai northlandthe northland, and men work out their soulsstrange rules, which other men, who have not journeyed into far countries, cannot eunderstand.
an hour later, cuthfert puanbread into the oven, and fellspeculatingwhat the surgeons couldwith his feet whengo did not seemvery far awa was rummagingtudden,raisehirlwindblasphemy, whichturn ceased with startlin other man had robbed his sugar sack.
still, things might have happened differently, had not the two dead men e out from under the stones and hushed the hot wordshi led him quite gently from the cache, whichfoonsummation was reached; that something they had whisperedhimhis dreams was abouuided him gently, very gently,the woodpile, where they put the axehi they helped him shove open the cabin door, andfelt sure they shutafter him,leastheardslam and the latch fall sharply intknew they were waiting just without, waiting for himdo his task.
“carter!i say, carter!”
percy cuthfert was frightenedthe lookthe clerk’s face, andmade hasteput the table between them.
carter weatherbee followed, without haste and withou was neither pity nor passionhis face, but rather the patient, stolid lookone who has certain workdo and goes aboutmethodically.
“i say, what’s the matter?”
the clerk dodged back, cutting off his retreatthe door, but never opening his mouth.
“i say, carter, i say; let’’ood chap.”
the masterarts was thinking rapidly, now, shapinkillful flank movementthe bed where his smith&wesso his eyesthe madman,rolled backwardthe bunk,the same time clutching the pistol.
“carter!”
the powder flashed fullweatherbee’s face, butswung his weapon and leape axe bit deeplythe basethe spine, and percy cuthfert felt all consciousnesshis lower limbs leav the clerk fell heavily upon him, clutching himthe throat with feebl sharp bitethe axe had caused cuthfertdrop the pistol, andhis lungs panted for release,fumbled aimlessly foramongh sliandthe clerk’s beltthe sheath knife; and they drew very closeeach otherthat last clinch.
percy cuthfert felt his strength leav lower portionhis bodyinert weightweatherbee crushed him, crushed him and pinned him there likear under cabin became filled witamiliar odor, andknew the breadb what didmatter?he would never need it.and there were allsix cupfulssugarthe cache,he had foreseen thiswould not have beensaving the last severa the wind vane ever move?it might evenveerin not?hadnot seen the sunday?he wouldan;was impossiblad not thought the clerkheavan.
how quickly the cabin cooled!the fire musold was forcing in.it mustbelow zero already, and the ice creepingthe insideth could not see it, but his past experience enabled himgauge its progressthe cabin’ lower hinge mustwhitethe talethis ever reach the world?how would his friends take it?they would readover their coffee, most likely, and talkoverth could see them very clearly.“poor old cuthfert,” they murmured; “not sucad sorta chap, after all.”he smiledtheir eulogies, and passedin searcha turkis was the same old crowd upon th, they did not notice his moosehide moccasins and tattered german socks!he would take after the bathave would notbad.
no;would ea, and potatoes, and green things, how freshall was!and what was that?squareshoney, streaming liquid amber!but why did they bringmuch?ha! ha!could never eat i!wh put his footth bootblack looked curiouslyat him, andremembered his moosehide moccasins and went away hastily.
hark!the wind vane mustsurel; a mere singinghi was all, a mer ice must have passed the latcikely the upper hingethe moss chinked roof poles, little pointsfrost begalowly they grew!no; noaew one, and ther three four; they were ing too fasere two growin there, a third had joine, there weremor had run together and formeheet.
well,would hav gabriel ever broke the silencethe north, they would stand together, handhand, before the great whit god would judge them, god would judge them!
then percy cuthfert closed his eyes and dropped offsleep.
m.pi.co
(梨树文学http://www.lishu123.com)