large/506/short_stories_009_64kb_mp3/love_of_life_london_jwt_64kb_241
large/506/short_stories_009_64kb_mp3/love_of_life_london_jwt_64kb
English
506
Farther on he knew he would come to where dead spruce and fir, very small and weazened, bordered the shore of a little lake, the _titchin nichilie_, in the tongue of the country, the "land of little sticks." And into that lake flowed a small stream, the water of which was not milky. There was rush grass on that stream  this he remembered well  but no timber, and he would follow it till its first trickle ceased at a divide. FARTHER ON HE KNEW HE WOULD COME TO WHERE DEAD SPRUCE AND FIR VERY SMALL AND WEAZENED BORDERED THE SHORE OF A LITTLE LAKE THE TITCHEN NE CHILI IN THE TONGUE OF THE COUNTRY THE LAND OF LITTLE STICKS AND INTO THAT LAKE FLOWED A SMALL STREAM THE WATER OF WHICH WAS NOT MILKY THERE WAS RUSH GRASS ON THAT STREAM THIS HE REMEMBERED WELL BUT NO TIMBER AND HE WOULD FOLLOW IT TILL ITS FIRST TRICKLE SEIZED AT A DIVIDE
f the injured ankle. Then he proceeded, slowly and carefully, wincing with pain, to the bank. He did not stop. With a desperation that was madness, unmindful of the pain, he hurried up the slope to the crest of the hill over which his comrade had disappeared--more grotesque and comical by far than that limping, jerking comrade. But at the crest he saw a shallow valley, empty of life. He fought with his fear again, overcame it, hitched the pack still farther over on his left shoulder, and lurched on down the slope. The bottom of the valley was soggy with water, which the thick moss held, spongelike, close to the surface. This water squirted out from under his feet at every step, and each time he lifted a foot the action culminated in a sucking sound as the wet moss reluctantly released its grip. He picked his way from muskeg to muskeg, and followed the other man's footsteps along and across the rocky ledges which thrust like islets through the sea of moss. Though alone, he was not lost. A PORTION OF ITS WEIGHT OFF THE INJURED ANKLE THEN HE PROCEEDED SLOWLY AND CAREFULLY WINCING WITH PAIN TO THE BANK HE DID NOT STOP WITH A DESPERATION THAT WAS MADNESS UNMINDFUL OF THE PAIN HE HURRIED UP THE SLOPE TO THE CREST OF THE HILL OVER WHICH HIS COMRADE HAD DISAPPEARED MORE GROTESQUE AND COMICAL BY FAR THAN THAT LIMPING JERKING COMRADE BUT AT THE CREST HE SAW A SHALLOW VALLEY EMPTY OF LIFE HE FOUGHT WITH HIS FEAR AGAIN OVERCAME IT HITCHED THE PACK STILL FARTHER OVER ON HIS LEFT SHOULDER AND LURCHED ON DOWN THE SLOPE THE BOTTOM OF THE VALLEY WAS SOGGY WITH WATER WHICH THE THICK MOSS HELD SPONGE LIKE CLOSE TO THE SURFACE THIS WATER SQUIRTED OUT FROM UNDER HIS FEET AT EVERY STEP AND EACH TIME HE LIFTED A FOOT THE ACTION CULMINATED IN A SUCKING SOUND AS THE WET MOSS RELUCTANTLY RELEASED ITS GRIP HE PICKED HIS WAY FROM MUSKEG TO MUSKEG AND FOLLOWED THE OTHER MAN'S FOOTSTEPS ALONG AND ACROSS THE ROCKY LEDGES WHICH THRUST LIKE ISLETS THROUGH THE SEA OF MOSS THOUGH ALONE HE WAS NOT LOST
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