The Deer’s Death
He
ran close, and again stood still, stopped by a new fear. Around him the grass
was whispering and alive. He looked wildly about, then down. The ground was
black with ants, great energetic ants that took no notice of him, but hurried
towards the fighting shape. And as he drew in his breath and pity and terror
seized him, the beast fell and the screaming stopped. Now he could hear nothing
but a bird singing, and the sound of the rustling (沙沙声) whispering
ants.
He peered over at the blackness that twitched with the
jerking(抽搐) nerves. It grew quieter. There were small twitches from the
mass that still looked vaguely like the shape of a small animal.
It came into his mind that he could shoot it and end its pain; and he
raised the gun. Then he lowered it .again. The deer could no longer feel; its
fighting was a mechanical protest of the nerves. But it was not that which made
him put down the gun. It was a swelling feeling of rage and misery and protest
that expressed itself in the thought: if I had not come it would have died like
this, so why should I interfere All over the bush things like this happen; they
happen all the time; this is how life goes on, by living things dying painfully.
I cannot stop it. He was glad that the deer was unconscious and had gone past
suffering so that he did not have to make a decision to kill it. At his feet,
now, were ants tricking back with pink fragments in their mouths and there was a
fresh acid smell in his nose. He sternly controlled the uselessly
convulsing(痉挛的) muscles of his empty stomach, and reminded himself: the ants
must eat too.
The shape had grown small. Now it looked like
nothing to be recognized. He saw the blackness thin, and bits of white showed
through, shining in the sun-- yes, there was the sun just up. Then the boy
looked at those insects. A few were standing and gazing up at him with small
glittering eyes. "Go away!" he said to the ants coldly. "I am not for you not
just yet, at any rate."
He bent over the bones and touched the
sockets(孔) in the skull: that was where the eyes were, he thought suspiciously,
remembering the liquid eyes of a deer.
That morning, perhaps an
hour ago, this small creature had been stepping proud and free through the bush
even as he himself had done. Proudly stepping the earth, it had smelt the cold
morning air. Walking like kings, it had moved freely through this bush, where
each blade of grass grew for it alone, and where the river ran pure sparkling
water for it to drink.
And then--what had happened Such a sure
swift footed thing could surely not be trapped by a swarm
ofants |
