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Boyhood in Norway-Part3_Hjalmar Hjorth Boyesen(1848-1895)_English Literature(文学名著)-第2页

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splashed about him, manoeuvring at the same time his own raft

with admirable adroitness.



Cheer upon cheer rent the air, after each of his successful

sallies, and his comrades, selecting their antagonists from among



the enemy, now pressed forward, all eager to bear their part in

the fray.



Splash! splash! splash! one East-Sider was dismounted, got an

involuntary bath, but scrambled up on his raft again. The next



time it was a West-Sider who got a ducking, but seemed none the

worse for it. There was a yelling and a cheering, now from one



side and now from the other, which made everyone forget that

something was going on at that moment of greater importance than



the mimic warfare of boys.

All the interest of the contending parties was concentrated on



the duel of their chieftains. It seemed now really that Halvor

was getting the worst of it. He could not get close enough to



use his brawny muscles; and in precision of aim and adroitness of

movement he was not Viggo's match.



Again and again he thrust his long-handled boat-hook angrily

against the bottom (for the flooded parts of the banks were very



shallow), to push the raft forward, but every time Viggo managed

to turn it sideward, and Halvor had to exert all his presence of



mind to keep his seat. Wild with rage he sprang up on his

slender raft and made a vicious lunge at his opponent, who warded



the blow with such force that the handle of the boat-hook broke,

and Halvor lost his balance and fell into the water.



At this same instant a tremendous crash was heard from below,

followed by a long rumble as of mightyartillery. A scream of



horror went up from the banks, as the great lumber mass rolled

down into the cataract, making a sudden suction which it seemed



impossible that the unhappy boys could resist.

The majority of both sides, seeing their danger, beat, by means



of their boat-hooks, a hasty retreat, and as they were in shallow

water were hauled ashore by the lumbermen, who sprang into the



river to save them.

When the clouds of spray had cleared away, only three figures



were visible. Viggo, still astride of his raft, was fighting,

not for his own life, but for that of his enemy, Halvor, who was



struggling helplessly in the white rapids. Close behind his

commander stood little Marcus on his raft, holding on, with one



hand to the boat-hook which he had hewn, with all his might, into

Viggo's raft, and with the other grasping the branch of a



half-submerged tree.

"Save yourself, General!" he yelled, wildly. "Let go there. I



can't hold on much longer."

But Viggo did not heed. He saw nothing but the pale, frightened



face of his antagonist, who might lose his life. With a

desperate effort he flung his boat-hook toward him and succeeded



this time in laying hold of the leather girdle about his waist.

One hundred feet below yawned the foaming, weltering abyss, from



which the white smoke ascended. If Marcus lost his grip, if the

branch snapped no human power could save them; they were all dead



men.

By this time the people on the shore had discovered that three



lives were hanging on the brink of eternity. Twenty men had

waded waist-deep into the current and had flung a stout rope to



the noble little fellow who was risking his own life for his

friend.



"Keep your hold, my brave lad!" they cried; "hold on another

minute!"



"Grab the rope!" screamed others.

Marcus clinched his teeth, and his numb arms trembled, mist



gathered in his eyes--his heart stood still. But with a clutch

that seemed superhuman he held on. He had but one thought--



Viggo, his chief! Viggo, his idol! Viggo, his general! He must

save him or die with him. One end of the rope was hanging on the



branch and was within easy reach; but he did not venture to seize

it, lest the wrench caused by his motion might detach his hold on



Viggo's raft.

Viggo, who just now was pulling Halvor out of the water, saw in



an instant that he had by adding his weight to the raft,

increased the chance of both being carried to their death. With



quick resolution he plunged the beak of his own boat-hook into

Marcus's raft, and shouted to Halvor to save himself. The



latter, taking in the situation at a glance, laid hold of the

handle of the boat-hook and together they pulled up alongside of






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