The rabbit sped (speed 过去式) down the river, turned off into a small creek (小溪), up the frozen bed of which it held steadily.
It ran lightly on the surface of the snow, while the dogs ploughed (开路) through by main strength.
Buck led the pack, sixty strong, around bend after bend, but he could not gain. He lay down low to the race, whining eagerly, his splendid body flashing forward, leap by leap, in the wan (暗淡的) white moonlight.
And leap by leap, like some pale frost wraith (幽灵), the snowshoe rabbit flashed on ahead.{1}
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All that stirring of old instincts which at stated periods drives men out from the sounding cities to forest and plain to kill things by chemically propelled leaden pellets, the blood lust (欲望), the joy to kill--all this was Buck's, only it was infinitely more intimate (内部的).{2}
He was ranging at the head of the pack, running the wild thing down, the living meat, to kill with his own teeth and wash his muzzle (动物的口鼻) to the eyes in warm blood.
There is an ecstasy (狂喜) that marks the summit of life, and beyond which life cannot rise. And such is the paradox (自相矛盾的事) of living, this ecstasy comes when one is most alive, and it comes as a complete forgetfulness that one is alive.
This ecstasy, this forgetfulness of living, comes to the artist (艺术家), caught up and out of himself in a sheet of flame; it comes to the soldier, war-mad on a stricken field and refusing quarter; and it came to Buck, leading the pack, sounding the old wolf-cry, straining after the food that was alive and that fled swiftly before him through the moonlight.
He was sounding the deeps of his nature, and of the parts of his nature that were deeper than he, going back into the womb (孕育任何事物的处所) of Time.
He was mastered by the sheer surging of life, the tidal wave of being, the perfect joy of each separate muscle, joint (关节), and sinew (筋) in that it was everything that was not death, that it was aglow (通红的) and rampant (奔放的), expressing itself in movement, flying exultantly (狂喜地) under the stars and over the face of dead matter that did not move.
But Spitz, cold and calculating (深谋远虑的) even in his supreme (最高的) moods, left the pack and cut across a narrow neck of land where the creek made a long bend around.
Buck did not know of this, and as he rounded the bend, the frost wraith of a rabbit still flitting before him, he saw another and larger frost wraith leap from the overhanging (悬伸的) bank into the immediate path of the rabbit.
It was Spitz. The rabbit could not turn, and as the white teeth broke its back in midair it shrieked (尖叫) as loudly as a stricken man may shriek. At sound of this, the cry of Life plunging down from Life's apex (顶点) in the grip of Death, the fall pack at Buck's heels raised a hell's chorus of delight.
Buck did not cry out. He did not check himself, but drove in upon Spitz, shoulder to shoulder, so hard that he missed the throat.
They rolled over and over in the powdery (粉状的) snow. Spitz gained his feet almost as though he had not been overthrown, slashing Buck down the shoulder and leaping clear.
Twice his teeth clipped together, like the steel jaws of a trap, as he backed away for better footing, with lean and lifting lips that writhed (扭动) and snarled.
In a flash Buck knew it. The time had come. It was to the death.
As they circled about, snarling, ears laid back, keenly watchful for the advantage, the scene came to Buck with a sense of familiarity (熟悉).
He seemed to remember it all, --the white woods, and earth, and moonlight, and the thrill of battle.
Over the whiteness and silence brooded a ghostly calm. There was not the faintest whisper of air--nothing moved, not a leaf quivered, the visible breaths of the dogs rising slowly and lingering in the frosty air.
They had made short work of the snowshoe rabbit, these dogs that were ill-tamed wolves; and they were now drawn up in an expectant circle.
They, too, were silent, their eyes only gleaming and their breaths drifting (飘动) slowly upward.
To Buck it was nothing new or strange, this scene of old time. It was as though it had always been, the wonted (惯例的) way of things.
Spitz was a practised fighter. From Spitzbergen through the Arctic (北极), and across Canada and the Barrens, he had held his own with all manner of dogs and achieved to mastery over them. Bitter rage was his, but never blind rage.
In passion to rend (撕裂) and destroy, he never forgot that his enemy was in like passion to rend and destroy. He never rushed till he was prepared to receive a rush; never attacked till he had first defended that attack.
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In vain Buck strove to sink his teeth in the neck of the big white dog.
Wherever his fangs (尖牙) struck for the softer flesh, they were countered by the fangs of Spitz. Fang clashed fang, and lips were cut and bleeding, but Buck could not penetrate (渗透) his enemy's guard.
Then he warmed up and enveloped (包围) Spitz in a whirlwind of rushes. Time and time again he tried for the snow-white throat, where life bubbled near to the surface, and each time and every time Spitz slashed him and got away.
Then Buck took to rushing, as though for the throat, when, suddenly drawing back his head and curving in from the side, he would drive his shoulder at the shoulder of Spitz, as a ram (撞击) by which to overthrow him.{3}
But instead, Buck's shoulder was slashed down each time as Spitz leaped lightly away.
Spitz was untouched, while Buck was streaming with blood and panting hard. The fight was growing desperate.
And all the while the silent and wolfish circle waited to finish off whichever dog went down.
As Buck grew winded, Spitz took to rushing, and he kept him staggering (摇晃) for footing. Once Buck went over, and the whole circle of sixty dogs started up; but he recovered himself, almost in mid air, and the circle sank down again and waited.
But Buck possessed a quality that made for greatness--imagination.
He fought by instinct, but he could fight by head as well. He rushed, as though attempting the old shoulder trick, but at the last instant swept low to the snow and in.
His teeth closed on Spitz's left fore leg. There was a crunch (咬碎) of breaking bone, and the white dog faced him on three legs. Thrice (三次) he tried to knock him over, then repeated the trick and broke the right fore leg.
Despite the pain and helplessness, Spitz struggled madly to keep up. He saw the silent circle, with gleaming eyes, lolling tongues, and silvery breaths drifting upward, closing in upon him as he had seen similar circles close in upon beaten antagonists (敌手) in the past.
Only this time he was the one who was beaten.