Love of Life
杰克·伦敦 / Jack London
The man had fallen into the creek and had sprained his ankle.
He called to his friend， “I say， Bill， wait there. I’ve sprained my ankle.”
There was no answer. Bill had disappeared in the damp fog. Although it was still August， the Canadian wilderness lay cold and lonely in the weak light of the afternoon sun. Everywhere was the dull skyline. The hills were all low-lying. There were no trees. There was nothing but desolation that sent fear into the man’s heart.
“Bill！” he called again， “Bill！” There was no answer.
The man rose to his feet， shaking as if he had a fever. He fought against the fear in his heart. He found his gun where he had dropped it in the water. Then he continued his way slowly. The gun was now useless， for he had no ammunition for it， but he did not leave it.
He shifted his pack to his left shoulder so as to favor his right ankle and hurried to the top of a hill. From there he saw a broad valley， empty of life.
The bottom of the valley was soft and swampy. He pushed on， trying to follow the tracks of his companion.
Though he was now alone， he was not lost. Farther along he knew where to find the trail. He would follow it until it came to the river， where they had left their canoe， weighted down with rocks. Under the canoe was a cache of ammunition for his empty gun， fishhooks and lines， and a small net. He would also find some flour， bacon， and beans—not much， for they had taken most of their food with them on their trip into the north country looking for gold.
He knew Bill would wait for him there； then they would paddle down the river to a Hudson Bay Company post， where there would be warm shelter and plenty of food.
These were the thoughts of the man as he limped along the trail. Then he began to think that perhaps Bill had deserted him. The man had not eaten for two days， and now was the added fear of starvation. He had stopped a few times to eat some wild berries， but they were mostly seeds and bitter. His hunger increased by the hour.