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American Notes-Part8_RUDYARD KIPLING(1865-1936)_English Literature(文学名著)-第2页

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That man was a barbarian (I took occasion to tell him so), for he



comported himself after the manner of the head-hunters and hunted

of Assam who are at perpetual feud one with another.



You will understand that these foolish stories are introduced in

order to cover the fact that this pen cannot describe the glories



of the Upper Geyser Basin. The evening I spent under the lee of

the Castle Geyser, sitting on a log with some troopers and



watching a baronial keep forty feet high spouting hot water. If

the Castle went off first, they said the Giantess would be quiet,



and vice versa, and then they told tales till the moon got up and

a party of campers in the woods gave us all something to eat.



Then came soft, turfy forest that deadened the wheels, and two

troopers on detachment duty stole noiselessly behind us. One was



the Wrap-up-his-Tail man, and they talked merrily while the

half-broken horses bucked about among the trees. And so a cavalry



escort was with us for a mile, till we got to a mighty hill

strewn with moss agates, and everybody had to jump out and pant



in that thin air. But how intoxicating it was! The old lady from

Chicago ducked like an emancipated hen as she scuttled about the



road, cramming pieces of rock into her reticule. She sent me

fifty yards down to the hill-side to pick up a piece of broken



bottle which she insisted was moss agate.

"I've some o' that at home, an' they shine. Yes, you go get it,



young man."

As we climbed the long path the road grew viler and viler till it



became, without disguise, the bed of a torrent; and just when

things were at their rockiest we nearly fell into a little



sapphire lake--but never sapphire was so blue--called Mary's

Lake; and that between eight and nine thousand feet above the



sea.

Afterward, grass downs, all on a vehement slope, so that the



buggy, following the new-made road, ran on the two off-wheels

mostly till we dipped head-first into a ford, climbed up a cliff,



raced along down, dipped again, and pulled up dishevelled at

"Larry's" for lunch and an hour's rest.



Then we lay on the grass and laughed with sheer bliss of being

alive. This have I known once in Japan, once on the banks of the



Columbia, what time the salmon came in and California howled, and

once again in the Yellowstone by the light of the eyes of the



maiden from New Hampshire. Four little pools lay at my elbow,

one was of black water (tepid), one clear water (cold), one clear



water (hot), one red water (boiling). My newly washed

handkerchief covered them all, and we two marvelled as children



marvel.

"This evening we shall do the Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone,"



said the maiden.

"Together?" said I; and she said, "Yes."



The sun was beginning to sink when we heard the roar of falling

waters and came to a broad river along whose banks we ran. And



then--I might at a pinch describe the infernal regions, but not

the other place. The Yellowstone River has occasion to run



through a gorge about eight miles long. To get to the bottom of

the gorge it makes two leaps, one of about one hundred and twenty



and the other of three hundred feet. I investigated the upper or

lesser fall, which is close to the hotel.



Up to that time nothing particular happens to the

Yellowstone--its banks being only rocky, rather steep, and



plentifully adorned with pines.

At the falls it comes round a corner, green, solid, ribbed with a



little foam, and not more than thirty yards wide. Then it goes

over, still green, and rather more solid than before. After a



minute or two, you, sitting upon a rock directly above the drop,

begin to understand that something has occurred; that the river



has jumped between solid cliff walls, and that the gentle froth

of water lapping the sides of the gorge below is really the



outcome of great waves.

And the river yells aloud; but the cliffs do not allow the yells



to escape.

That inspection began with curiosity and finished in terror, for



it seemed that the whole world was sliding in chrysolite from

under my feet. I followed with the others round the corner to



arrive at the brink of the canyon. We had to climb up a nearly

perpendicular ascent to begin with, for the ground rises more



than the river drops. Stately pine woods fringe either lip of




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