现代大学英语精读第二版（第三册）学习笔记（原文及全文翻译）——12B - The Big Buffalo Bass（大布法罗河鲈鱼）

本文链接：https://blog.csdn.net/hpdlzu80100/article/details/120952421

一位年轻人在大布法罗河偶遇一位猎区监管员和一位猎人，他们围绕着传说中的大鲈鱼——老所罗门王展开了一场智慧与技巧的较量。猎人试图用枪捕获它，而监管员则阻止非法行为。最终，一个12岁的男孩成功钓到并放生了这只难以捉摸的鲈鱼。

摘要由CSDN通过智能技术生成

Unit 12B - The Big Buffalo Bass

The Big Buffalo Bass

Weldon Stone

I had first heard of him two years before, when I had just begun to fall in love with the Big Buffalo River. That day I had been walking slowly downstream, doing more exploring than fishing, when I came to a spring shaded by a giant tree. I drank my fill, rolled a cigarette, and sat down to rest. Suddenly, across the river, I spotted a squirrel in a scrubby pine, and then, lower down, I saw a man sitting on a rock. He had a gun held ready and he was staring into the river below him.

I whistled. The man looked at me, and I pointed to the squirrel. He casually lifted the gun and fired. The report of the gun, rebounding from the bluff, was deafening.

A few minutes later he appeared on the spring path and dropped the squirrel at my feet.

It's yours he said and, leaning his rifle against the tree, kneeled down and drank from the spring.

But you shot it, I protested.

I don't hanker after squirrel meat, he replied, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

I pulled out my sack of tobacco and offered it. He rolled a cigarette and handed it back to me without a word.

Well, he said finally, "I reckon I'll go on home," and, picking up his rifle, he walked away.

He had scarcely disappeared when I heard a rustling of leaves behind me and a man stepped out of the undergrowth in back of the spring.

I had met the man, but now, there were two revolvers strapped to his hips. Instinctively I knew he was the game warden. I glanced at the squirrel involuntarily; I knew the season was closed. But the man was grinning.

That's all right. I saw it all, he said.

That's lucky for me, I said, "but I really caused him to shoot it. I thought he was hunting squirrels."

No, he's hunting nothing that lives in trees. He was hunting old King Solomon.

I see, I said, though I didn't see at all. A triangle affair possibly, or a mountain feud.

Old King Solomon is a bass, he said. "We call him that because he's so smart nobody can catch him. That fellow with the gun hooked him once, but couldn't hold him. Ever since, he's been trying to shoot him. Well, that's against the law; and nobody's going to do that if I can help it."

How big was he?

I don't like strangers to think I'm lying, he said, "even when I'm telling the truth."

That was enough. I determined then and there to keep a sharp lookout.

Where does King Solomon hold court most of the time? I asked with a studied effort to be casual. "It seems that our friend with the gun expects to find him in this hole. Has he ever been seen here?"

Once. About a year ago. But he might be a mile or two up or down by now. Well, I reckon I'll get back to town. See you again.

Well, I did see the warden several times after that; and when I saw him, usually I saw the man with the gun.

The game they played is a popular one with boys and girls; it's called tag. The man with the gun was trying to tag King Solomon; the warden was bent on tagging the man with the gun. And I liked to see them at their game.

The rest of that summer and all during the next two summers I mentioned King Solomon's name to all I chanced to meet. They all knew of him, and had stories to tell about him, but no one was able to tell me just where and when he might be found. So I never met King Solomon till quite recently, and then it was through Dee Thompson, a boy of twelve.

I had met Dee a few times. He was no different from the other mountain boys, lean and taciturn, hard to talk to. I probably never would have got to know him well if I had not mentioned King Solomon. He was a different boy then.

Have you seen him? he asked.

No. I've just heard about him. But I guess you have, I suggested.

I saw him once, he answered. "He had broken my line after I had lifted him out of the water. But," he added with a quavering voice. "I'm going to get him some day."

I asked him when he hoped to accomplish it.

When the signs are right again, he told me.

When do you reckon that will be?

Dee looked me steadily in the eye, and then asked, "Do you want to go with me?"

I sure do.

I'll let you know when I'm going after him again, Dee promised and left me to wonder when that would be.

Three days later, while I was having a second cup of coffee, Dee walked into my camp.

I'm going, he announced.

And may I trail along? I asked hopefully.

That's what I said the other day, he replied.

In five minutes we were on our way. Dee led me straight to the hole by the spring. He took from his pocket a ball of stout cord and tied the free end to the middle of his pole.

I'm about ready, he said.

Go to it, boy, I said.

Don't you want to try? he asked.

No, I answered, "King Solomon is your fish. I just want to see him."

I can show it to you if you'll climb the bluff.

We crossed over to a ledge of the bluff. There we sat down. The river was about ten feet below us. It was shaded by the ridge behind us—all but a narrow strip along the opposite bank.

Do you see that log there? Dee asked, pointing toward the sunny strip of water.

Yes, I replied.

That's where King Solomon lives, Dee said. "And he won't let other bass come around it. Watch."

Dee broke off a piece of limestone and thumbed it into the stream. I wasn't prepared for what happened. An underlying limb detached itself from the log and shot like a torpedo to the spot where the piece of rock had struck the water. I saw fins parrying, a bulldog jaw champing, and two bulging eyes glaring upward. At last I was looking upon King Solomon in all his glory.

That's him, Dee said quietly. "Don't you want to try for him while I go and get my bait?"

Do I? I almost shouted with joy. Shaking with excitement, I cast the line, and miraculously managed to place the lure where I aimed it—three feet to the rear of King Solomon.

Then action exploded. King Solomon turned and struck with a fory and speed that made him invisible, but I saw my plug. It shot upward out of the water and then dropped back with a slack line. I sat on the ledge as limp as my line and looked at the spot where I had seen King Solomon's broad tail wave me farewell.

Just then I heard Dee coming back. He had something monstrous dangling from his hook. The thing was a lobstersized crawfish. Dee coiled a part of his line; then, whirling the crawfish in his right hand, he let it fly. It dropped like a horseshoe beside the log, and began gyrating in crazy downward spirals.

Suddenly there was a jerk from the other end of the line and several feet of it were snaked under the log as Dee struck. The pole bent; and though Dee had both hands on it, with the butt of it braced in his groin, the tip jerked down and pointed to the darkness under the log. There were three savage lunges that I thought would tear the pole from the boy's hands; then King Solomon came out to fight in the open.

He broke water and shot the crawfish out of his jaws savagely. But the hook held, and King Solomon felt it as he burrowed deep to the bed of the river; up he came again, shaking his head and shooting his jaw. We could see that the hook had gone through the toughest part of his lower lip.

Giving up his surface tactics, he went down again to stay. Dee tried to pull him out. The stout pole cracked and then broke. But the line was tied below the break; so King Solomon was still fast. I didn't believe he could be landed from where we were. But Dee had an idea.

You just hold this pole for a while, he said.

Slipping off his overalls, he dived in. He was gone a long time, so long that I caught myself holding my breath; then he popped up. He was paddling with his right hand and holding onto the line with his left. I knew by the way his left arm was darting about that he still had King Solomon.

Just drop the pole in, he spluttered. "I'm going to swim across with him."

Dubiously, I obeyed. The boy swam on his side with a strong scissors kick. Occasionally I could see a flash of white beside him. That was King Solomon showing his belly—all tired out.

I watched Dee scramble up the shallow bank, with his fingers through King Solomon's gill-flap, and go to the spring, where he deposited his catch and threw himself down for a well-earned rest. I picked up my rod and Dee's clothes and crossed over to him.

He was lying on his side with his head propped up on one hand, while he stared in the spring pool. There was King Solomon, also lying on his side and breathing hard. He was beaten so far as the score was concerned, but not by any means in spirit. He glared at us out of one amber-rimmed defiant eye.

Well, I remarked inanely, "you caught him."

I reckon I did, Dee said, "but I wouldn't have if you hadn't made him hungry with that pretty thing of yours."

That pretty thing had nothing to do with it. I turned and saw it was the warden. "I saw it all." Then he bent down to inspect King Solomon closely.

That's him, all right, he said. "There's the scar on his upper lip where I hooked him."

He's got another scar, Dee said. "Look at his shoulder." I leaned over and saw a deep livid furrow. I looked at the warden.

What do you think might have caused that? I asked.

He said nothing. He only looked across the river to the bluff.

I followed the direction of his glance. There, upon the rock, sat the man with the gun.

Well, said the warden, "I reckon I'll go back to town. Better watch old Solomon, boy. You may lose him yet."

With that parting advice he went away.

I'm ready to call it a day, too, I said.

OK, Dee said. "You go on ahead. I'll catch you."

Presuming that he wanted to salvage his line, I followed his suggestion and started back to camp. A few minutes later I heard him running behind me. Turning to wait for him, I saw that his hands were empty. So the warden had spoken a prophecy.

Where's King Solomon?

Back there under that log, he answered. "I turned him loose."

Here was something I had hardly dared to hope for. Here was a boy of twelve who had done the thing I had wished I might have the courage to do if I ever caught King Solomon. Then I thought of the man with the gun.

But that man on the bluff will shoot him, I groaned.

Since I worked on the sights of that gun the other day Pa couldn't hit a hog with it.

参考译文——大布法罗河鲈鱼

大布法罗河鲈鱼

韦尔登·斯通

我第一次听说他还是在两年前，那时我刚刚开始喜欢上大布法罗河。那天，我正沿着河边慢慢往下游走，与其说是在钓鱼不如说是在进行考察，后来我来到了一棵大树遮阴的泉水旁。我先喝了个饱，卷了一支烟，坐下来休息。突然，在河对面，我发现一棵松树，松树上有一只松鼠。再往下看，一个男人正坐在一块岩石上，他端着杆枪，眼睛盯着下面的河水，做好了随时开枪的准备。

我吹了声口哨。那人看了看我，我用手指了指那松鼠。他漫不经心地端起枪，开了火。枪声从周围峭壁上回荡过来，震耳欲聋。

几分钟后，他出现在泉水边的小道上，把松鼠丢在了我的脚下。

“它是你的，”他说着，把他的来复枪靠在树上，跪下去，喝起泉水来。

“但那是你打下来的，”我表示不同意。

“我可不爱吃松鼠肉，”他一边回答，一边用手背擦了擦嘴。

我拿出自己的烟袋递给他。他卷了一支烟，然后一言不发地把烟袋又还给了我。

“好了，”他最后开口道，“我想我该回家了。”他拿起来复枪，走开了。

他刚刚消失，我就听到身后有树叶沙沙作响，一个人从泉水后面的灌木丛中走了出来。

我以前见过这个人，但是这次他髋部却挎着两支左轮手枪。凭直觉我明白他是个猎区监管员。我不由自主地瞥了一眼地上的松鼠，我清楚现在到了禁猎季节，可是这人却咧嘴笑了。

“没关系，我全看见了，”他说。

“我运气不错，”我说，“但的确是我引他开枪的。我以为他是在猎松鼠。”

“不，他从来不猎取生活在树上的动物。他要猎捕老所罗门王。”

“我明白了，”我说，尽管我根本就不明白。也许是一场三角恋，或是山区里的深仇大恨。

“老所罗门王是一只鲈鱼，”他说。因为他太狡猾了，没人能抓到他，所以我们这样称呼他。那个带枪的家伙曾钓到一次，但没能抓住。从那以后，他就一直设法用枪打他。得了，那是违法的，只要我还在，谁也别想这么做。”

“他有多大？”

“我不想让陌生人觉得我在撒谎，”他说，“虽然我说的是实话。”

这就足够了。我当场就打定主意要格外留意这件事。

“老所罗门王大都在哪儿临朝听政呢？”我故意漫不经心地问道。“看起来我们那位带枪的朋友想在这个洞里找到他，有人曾在这里看到过他吗？”

“有过一次。大约在一年以前。但是他可能就在这上下游一两英里远的地方。好啦，我想我要回镇上了，再见。”

从那以后，我的确又见过那个猎区监管员几次，而且每次见到他，通常都会看到那个带枪的人。

他们玩的是一种在孩子当中很受欢迎的捉人游戏。带枪的人在设法捕捉所罗门王，猎区管理员决心要捉住带枪的人。而我喜欢看他们玩这个游戏。

那年夏天余下的日子，以及接下来的两个夏季，我向我遇见的每一个人提及所罗门王的名字。他们都知道他，而且都能讲一些有关他的故事，但是没有一个人能告诉我在什么时间什么地点能找到他。所以我一直没见过所罗门王，直到最近通过一个叫迪·汤普森的十二岁男孩我才见到了他。

我见过迪好几次。他和其他的山区孩子没什么两样，身体很瘦，沉默寡言，很难说上话。要是我没提到所罗门王，我也许永远不会了解他。一提到所罗门王，他像完全变了个人。

“你见过他吗？”他问。

“没有，我只是听说过他。但我猜你见过，”我说道。

“我见过一次他回答说，“我把他拖出水面时，他挣断线跑了。不过，”他补充说，声音带着一丝颤抖，“总有一天我会捉住他。”

我问他想什么时候实现这个愿望。

“等时机成熟时，”他告诉我。

“你认为那会是什么时候？”

迪紧紧地盯着我的眼晴，然后问道：“你想和我一起去吗？”

“我当然想。”

“我再去抓他的时候会告诉你的，”迪许诺道，而他走后我仍然思索着，什么时候才会有这个机会。

三天后，正当我喝第二杯咖啡时，迪走进了我露营的帐篷。

“我要去了，”他宣布说。

“我能和你一起去吗？”我满怀希望地问道。

“那天我就是这么说的，”他回答道。

五分钟后，我们就上路了。迪领着我径直来到泉眼旁边的洞口处。他从衣袋里掏出一团结实的鱼线，把没拴鱼钩的一头拴到鱼竿的中间。

“我马上就准备好了，”他说。

“动手吧，小伙子我说。

“你不想试一下吗？”他问。

“不，我答道，“所罗门王是你的鱼，我只是想看看他。”

“如果你能攀上崖壁，我就能让你看到他。”

我们穿过泉眼，登上一块突出的岩壁，坐了下来。河水就在我们脚下约十英尺远的地方，被我们背后的岩脊遮着——看上去只有沿着对面河岸的狭窄的一条。

“你看见那边的那根原木了吗？”迪指着被阳光照亮的那片水面问我。

“看见了，”我回答道。

“所罗门王就住在那儿，”迪说，“而且他不会让其他鲈鱼靠近那儿。快看。”

迪弄碎一块石灰石，然后用拇指将它弹入水中。我还没来得及弄清楚是怎么回事。一个潜在水中的树干从原木下面分离出来，就像鱼雷一样射向刚才石子落水的地方。我看到鱼鳍划开水面，牛头犬似的嘴巴急不可耐地咀嚼着，两只圆鼓鼓的眼晴向上瞪着，我终于目睹了所罗门王的风采。

“那就是他，”迪悄声说，“我去拿鱼饵，你不想先来试着钓一下他吗？”

“我试试？”我高兴得差点喊出来。我激动得手有些发抖，把线抛了出去，并且奇迹般地把鱼饵投到了我瞄准的地方——在所罗门王背后三英尺远的地方。

紧接着所罗门王的行动爆发了，他转过身，愤怒而飞快地发起了攻击，然后立刻从水面上消失了，但我看见了带饵的鱼钩。它向上射出水面，接着与松弛的鱼线一起落入水中。我也像鱼线一样垂头丧气地坐在岩脊上，眼睁睁地看着所罗门王的大尾巴向我挥别。

就在这时候，我听到迪回来了。他的鱼钩上有个巨大而丑陋的东西荡来荡去，原来是一只龙虾般大的螯虾。迪把线绕了几圈，然后用右手把那只螯虾抡了几圈后，扔了出去。它就像马蹄铁一样落到了原木旁，接着成螺旋状急速地沉入水中。

突然，线的另一端猛地动了一下，当迪极力拉竿时，有几英尺线在原木下乱扭。鱼竿弯了；虽然迪双手紧握鱼竿，将竿的一头夹在两腿中间，但竿顶还是被朝下拉向原木底下的黑暗处。经过三次激烈的拉扯，我以为他会把鱼竿从男孩的手中拉走，接着所罗门王露出了水面，准备公开较量了。

他冲出水面，拼命往外吐嘴里的螯虾，但是鱼钩牢牢地钩住了他的嘴，所罗门王潜入河底时感觉到了这一点；他又一次跃出水面，摇晃着脑袋，摆动着下巴。我们能看见鱼钩已经穿过他下唇的最坚硬的部位。

水面上的招术不灵，他又一次潜了下去。迪试图把他拉出水面，结实的鱼竿咔嚓一声，折断了。但是线系在断头下面的部分，所罗门王仍然被牢牢地拉着。我觉得从我们所在的岩脊上，不可能把他拖上岸。但迪想出了个主意。

“你先拿一下鱼竿，”他说。

他脱下工装裤，钻到水下。他下去了好长时间，我担心得屏住了呼吸；接着，他突然露出了水面，右手划着水，左手抓着鱼线。从他左臂快速摆动的动作我知道他仍拉着所罗门王。

“把鱼竿丢下来他急促地说，“我要拉着他一起游到对岸去。”

我半信半疑地照做了。男孩侧身游着，双脚用力地蹬着水。我不时地看见他身旁闪着个白色的东西，那是所罗门王露出的鱼腹——他已经精疲力竭了。

我看见迪用手指勾着所罗门王的鱼鳃，爬上不高的堤岸，走到泉边，放下猎物，就躺下去休息。我捡起鱼竿和迪的衣服，朝他走了过去。

他侧身躺着，一只手撑着头，双眼盯着泉水池。所罗门王就在那儿，他也侧身躺着，艰难地呼吸着。就结果来说，他被打败了，但精神上绝对没有。他用一只长着琥珀色眼圈的眼睛挑衅地瞪着我们。

“好了，”我干巴巴地说，“你终于抓住他了。”

“我想是的，”迪说，“但如果不是你用你那可爱的玩意儿勾起他的食欲，我也不可能成功。”

“跟那可爱的玩意儿无关。”我转过身，发现是猎区监管员。“我都看见了。”接着他弯下身，仔细地看了看所罗门王。

“就是他，没错，”他说，“他上唇的伤疤，是我上次钓他时的鱼钩留下的。”

“它又多了一处伤疤，”迪说，“看看它的脊背吧。”我把身子靠过去，看到一道深深的青黑色的凹痕，我看了一眼猎区监管员。

“你认为这伤疤是什么弄的？”我问道。

他没说话，只是望向河对岸的崖壁。

我顺着他的目光的方向，看见那带枪的人坐在岩石上。

“好啦，”猎区监管员说，“我想我该回镇上去了，看好老所罗门王，小伙子。你可能会让他跑掉的。”

说完这句临行忠告后，他就走了。

“我也要收工了，”我说。

“好吧，”迪说，“你先走，我一会儿追你去。”

我以为他想打捞鱼线，就听从他的建议动身返回帐篷了。几分钟后，我听到他从我身后跑过来，我转过身等他，看见他空着手。看来猎区监管员的预言应验了。

“所罗门王呢？”

“回到那边那根原木下面去了，”他回答说，“我把他放了。”

这几乎是我不敢想的事。而一个十二岁的孩子做到了。假如我抓住了所罗门王，我希望我有勇气这样去做。这时，我想到了那个带枪的人。

“但是崖壁上的那个人会用枪打他的，”我小声说道。

“自从前几天我在枪的准星上做了手脚，爸爸用它连头猪也打不中了。”

Key Words:

pine [pain]

n. 松树，松木

vi. 消瘦，憔悴，渴望

minutes ['minits]

n. 会议记录，(复数)分钟

squirrel ['skwirəl]

n. 松鼠，松鼠皮毛

vt. 储存

rifle ['raifl]

n. 步枪

triangle ['traiæŋgl]

n. 三角(形)

smart [smɑ:t]

adj. 聪明的，时髦的，漂亮的，敏捷的，轻快的，整洁的

determined [di'tə:mind]

adj. 坚毅的，下定决心的

feud [fju:d]

n. 长期不和，争执 n. 封地 v. 长期斗争，结世仇

squirrel ['skwirəl]

n. 松鼠，松鼠皮毛

bent [bent]

bend的过去式和过去分词 adj. 下定决心的，弯曲的

announced [ə'naunst]

宣布的

taciturn ['tæsitə:n]

adj. 沉默寡言的

accomplish [ə'kɔmpliʃ]

vt. 完成

popular ['pɔpjulə]

adj. 流行的，大众的，通俗的，受欢迎的

underlying [.ʌndə'laiiŋ]

adj. 在下面的，基本的，隐含的

strip [strip]

n. 长条，条状，脱衣舞

v. 脱衣，剥夺，剥

limestone ['laimstəun]

n. 石灰石

detached [di'tætʃt]

adj. 超然的，分离的，独立的

pole [pəul]

n. 杆，柱，极点

v. (用杆)支撑

glaring ['glɛəriŋ]

adj. 耀眼的，炫目的，怒视的动词glare的现在分

bait [beit]

n. 饵，引诱

vt. 嘲笑，纵犬攻击，以饵引

limb [lim]

n. 枝干，树枝，肢体

vt. 切断(树枝，手

minutes ['minits]

n. 会议记录，(复数)分钟

ridge [ridʒ]

n. 脊，山脊，山脉

slack [slæk]

n. 松弛的部分，松散，淡季，中止

bent [bent]

bend的过去式和过去分词 adj. 下定决心的，弯曲的

limp [limp]

n. 跛行

adj. 柔软的，无力的，软弱的<

savage ['sævidʒ]

adj. 野性的，凶猛的，粗鲁的，荒野的

invisible [in'vizəbl]

adj. 看不见的，无形的

n. 隐形人(或物

tear [tiə]

n. 眼泪，（撕破的）洞或裂缝，撕扯

hook [huk]

n. 钩状物，勾拳，钩

v. 钩住，弯成(钩装

farewell ['fɛə'wel]

adj. 告别的

int. 再会，别了

pole [pəul]

n. 杆，柱，极点

scissors ['sizəz]

n. 剪刀

shallow ['ʃæləu]

adj. 浅的，薄的

n. 浅滩，浅处

score [skɔ:]

n. 得分，刻痕，二十，乐谱

vt. 记分，刻

occasionally [ə'keiʒənəli]

adv. 偶尔地

defiant [di'faiənt]

adj. 挑衅的，目中无人

concerned [kən'sə:nd]

adj. 担忧的，关心的

minutes ['minits]

n. 会议记录，(复数)分钟

salvage ['sælvidʒ]

n. 海上救助，打捞，抢救

vt. 海上救助，

glance [glɑ:ns]

v. 一瞥，扫视，匆匆一看，反光，闪烁，掠过

inspect [in'spekt]

vt. 调查，检阅

vi. 调查

prophecy ['prɔfisi]

n. 预言，先兆，预言能力 =prophesy

shoulder ['ʃəuldə]

n. 肩膀，肩部

v. 扛，肩负，承担，(用肩

furrow ['fʌrəu]

n. 犁沟，皱纹 v. 犁，耕，（使）起皱纹

scar [skɑ:]

n. 疤痕，伤痕，断崖

参考资料：

现代大学英语精读(第2版)第三册:U12B The Big Buffalo Bass(7)_大学教材听力 - 可可英语