gs.earthabides-第11部分

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　　But　that　motor　had　never　been　designed　to　keep　a　car　at　such　a　speed；　and　he　constantly　found　that　he　had　slid　up　to　fifty　or　sixty　without　realizing　it。　
　　Yet；　even　to　be　moving　at　all　kept　him　from　feeling　quite　so　depressed。　Mere　change　of　place　was　a　fort；　flight　itself；　a　solace。　Deep　within；　he　knew　that　all　this　was　because　he　was　temporarily　escaping　from　the　necessity　of　depision。　As　long　as　he　was　merely　pulling　down　the　curtain　of　one　landscape　behind　him　and　raising　that　of　another　in　front　of　him；　as　long　as　he　was　merely　driving；　he　did　not　need　to　make　plans　for　the　future；　to　decide　how　he　should　live；　or　even　whether　he　should　live。　The　necessity　now　was　only　to　decide　how　he　should　steer　around　the　next　approaching　curve。　
　　The　beagle…bitch　lay　beside　him。　Now　and　then　she　put　her　head　in　his　lap；　but　mostly　she　slept　quietly；　and　her　being　so　close　was　also　a　fort。　In　the　rear…view　miffor　he　never　saw　a　car　behind　him；　but　he　looked　in　it　occasionally；　out　of　habit。　In　it　he　saw　the　rifle　and　shot…gun　on　the　middle　seat　behind　him；　and　the　back　seat　piled　high　with　his　sleeping…bag　and　the　cartons　of　food。　He　was　like　a　sailor　in　his　own　boat　stocked　and　ready　for　emergencies；　and　he　also　felt　the　deep　desperation　of　the　solitary　survivor　of　a　ship…wreck；　alone　in　all　the　vastness。　
　　He　followed　Highway　99　south　through　the　San　Joaquin　Valley。　Although　he　drove　slowly；　he　made　excellent　mileage。　He　did　not　have　to　slow　down　behind　a　truck；　or　to　stop　for　traffic…lights　（though　most　of　them　were　still　functioning）；　or　to　reduce　speed　for　towns。　In　fact；　in　spite　of　his　apprehensions；　he　had　to　admit　that　driving　Highway　99　under　these　conditions　was　much　safer　than　driving　it　through　thick　and　madly　speeding　traffic。　
　　He　saw　no　man。　If　he　had　searched　through　the　towns；　he　might　have　found　someone；　but　there　was　no　use　of　it　now。　A　straggler　here　or　there　he　might　pick　up　at　any　time。　Now　he　was　searching　to　see　whether　some　greater　remnant　might　be　left　somewhere。　
　　The　broad　plain　stretched　away…vineyards；　orchards；　fields　of　melons；　fields　of　cotton。　Perhaps　a　fanner's　eye　could　have　seen　that　already　everything　showed　neglect；　and　the　absence　of　the　hand　of　man；　but　to　Ish　it　all　still　looked　about　the　same。　
　　At　Bakersfield　he　left　99；　and　turned　toward　the　winding　road　over　Tehachapi　Pass。　Fields　gave　way　to　scattered　slopes　Of　oaks；　and　higher　still　came　open　park…like　stands　of　thinfoliaged　Coulter　pine。　Here；　too；　there　was　no　one。　Yet　he　did　not　so　much　feel　the　absence　of　people；　for　this　had　always　been　empty　country。　He　came　down　the　side　of　the　pass　on　the　other　end；　and　looked　out　over　the　far　reaches　where　the　desert　began。　More　sharply　than　ever　he　became　apprehensive。　Although　the　sun　was　still　well　above　the　horizon；　he　stopped　at　the　little　town　of　Mojave；　and　began　to　make　his　preparations。　
　　To　cross　those　two　hundred　miles　of　desert；　men　had　carried　water　in　their　cars　even　in　the　Old　Times。　There　were　stretches　where　one　might　have　to　walk　for　a　full　day　to　reach　even　a　roadside　stand　if　the　car　went　bad。　He　could　take　no　chances　now；　when　no　one　would　be　ing　to　help　him。　
　　He　found　a　hardware　store。　The　door　was　massive　and　strongly　locked；　so　he　smashed　a　window　with　the　hammer　and　went　in。　He　took　three　large　canteens；　and　filled　them　at　a　faucet　from　which　water　was　still　running；　though　feebly。　He　added　a　gallon　jug　of　red　wine　from　a　grocery　store。　Still　he　was　not　satisfied；　and　the　thought　of　the　desert　weighed　heavily　on　him。　He　drove　back　along　the　main　street；　not　just　sure　what　he　was　seeking；　and　then　his；　eyes　fell　on　a　motorcycle。　It　was　black　and　white；　one　of　those　used　by　the　Highway　Patrol。　Through　all　his　depression　and　fear　he　still　felt　qualms　at　stealing　a　motorcycle　belonging　to　a　traffic　cop。　It　was　the　height　of　the　incredible。　
　　Yet　after　a　minute　he　got　out；　fiddled　with　the　motorcycle；　found　it　workable；　and　rode　slowly　down　the　street　and　back。　
　　After　an　hour's　work　in　the　heavy　heat　of　the　late　afternoon；　using　some　planks　to　build　a　ramp；　he　managed　to　wheel　the　motorcycle　up；　and　to　lash　it　securely　on　the　lowered　tail…gate　of　the　station…wagon。　Now　he　was　not　only　like　a　sailor　in　his　own　boat；　but　he　had　a　tender　in　which　he　could　take　refuge　if　the　boat　itself　should　sink。　Even　so；　he　felt　more　apprehensive　than　ever；　and　found　himself　now　and　then　glancing　over　his　shoulder。　
　　The　sun　set；　and　he　was　fired。　He　made　himself　a　cold　and　unsatisfactory　meal；　and　ate　it　dispiritedly；　still　feeling　the　fear。　He　even　considered　what　he　would　do　if　the　food　gave　him　indigestion。　When　he　had　finished　eating；　he　found　a　can　of　dog…food　in　a　grocery　store；　and　fed　it　to　the　beagle。　She　accepted　the　offering　as　only　her　due。　Having　eaten；　she　curled　up　in　the　front　seat。　He　drove　the　station…wagon　to　the　best…looking　tourist…court　in　town；　found　the　door　of　a　room　unopened；　and　went　in；　the　beagle　following。　Only　a　dribble　flowed　from　the　faucets。　Apparently　the　water　supplies　of　this　small　town　were　not　as　automatically　adjusted　as　were　those　of　the　city。　He　washed　as　well　as　he　could；　then　went　to　bed。　The　dog　curled　up　on　the　floor。　
　　The　fear　gripped　him　hard；　and　he　could　not　sleep。　The　dog　whimpered　in　a　drearn；　and　he　started　violently。　The　fear　moved　in　more　tightly。　He　got　out　of　bed；　and　tried　the　door　to　be　sure　that　he　had　locked　it；　although　he　did　not　know　who　or　what　he　should　be　fearing；　or　against　whom　or　what　he　should　lock　a　door。　He　thought　of　going　to　find　a　drug　store　and　getting　some　pills　to　make　him　sleep；　but　even　that　idea　frightened　him。　He　thought　of　trying　the　brandy；　but　that　too　had　sinister　implications　as　he　remembered　Mr。　Barlow。　At　last　he　slept；　but　restlessly。　In　the　morning　his　head　was　heavy；　and　in　the　crisp　heat　of　the　desert　forenoon　he　still　flinched　at　starting　across　the　waste。　He　considered　turning　back；　he　considered　going　soud　toward　Los　Angeles；　telling　himself　that　it　would　be　a　good　idea　to　see　what　had　happened　there。　But　all　these　ideas；　lu　knew；　were　excuses；　mere　flinchings　from　the　carrying…out　ol　his　original　plan；　and　he　still　had　enough　pride　in　himself　to　keep　from　needlessly　turning　back　or　swerving　from　the　course　which　he　had　laid　out。　But　he　temporized　at　least　to　this　extent；　that　he　would　not　start　across　the　desert　until　nearly　sunset。　That；　he　argued；　was　merely　an　ordinary　precaution。　Even　in　ordinary　times　many　people　drove　the　desert　at　night　just　to　escape　from　the　heat。　
　　He　spent　the　day　restlessly　in　Mojave…oppressed　by　the　fear；　and　trying　to　think　of　more　things　which　he　should　do　for　safety。　When　the　sun　was　about　to　touch　the　western　hills；　he　started；　the　dog　beside　him　on　the　seat。　
　　He　had　scarcely　gone　a　mile　before　he　felt　the　desert　closing　in　around　him。　The　low　sun　cast　the　Joshua　trees　into　strange　long　shadows。　Then　the　shadows　were　gone；　and　soon　twilight　fell。　He　turned　on　his　lights；　and　the　high　beams　illuminated　the　road　before　him…empty；　always　empty。　In　the　rear…view　mirror　he　never　saw　the　far…off　twin　lights　which　would　mean　that　some　car　was　overtaking　him。　
　　Then　it　was　full　darkness；　and　his　anxiety　grew　deeper　and　deeper。　He　thought　of　all　that　might　go　wrong；　even　though　the　engine　purred　steadily　along。　He　drove　slowly　and　still　more　slowly；　thinking　of　blow…outs；　thinking　of　an　overheating　engine；　or　of　oil　that　might　fail　to　flow　and　leave　him　marooned；　far　alone。　He　even　lost　confidence　in　the　motorcycle　which　he　carried　as　insurance。　After　a　long　time…he　was　driving　slowly…he　passed　one　of　the　little　desert　stations　where　one　might　at　least　expect　to　get　gasoline　or　a　spare　tire　or　something　to　drink。　Now　it　was　dark；　and　he　knew　that　there　was　no　help。　He　went　on　beyond　that；　the　white　beams　cutting　out　the　road　clearly　ahead　of　him；　the　engine　still　puffed　smoothly；　but　he　wondered　what　he　would　do　if　it　should　stop。　
　　He　had　gone　a　long　way。　At　last　the　dog　on　the　seat　beside　him　began　to　whimper　and　stir　restlessly。　〃Shut　up！〃　he　said　sharply；　but　still　she　whimpered　and　stirred。　〃Oh；　all　right！〃　he　said；　and　pulled　the　car　to　a　stop；　not　bothering　to　turn　aside　off　the　pavement。　He　got　out；　and　then　held　the　door　open　for　the　dog。　She　ran　about　for　a　moment；　whimpering；　and　then　without　stopping　to　relieve　herself；　she　suddenly　lifted　her　nose；　let　out　a　bay　tremendous　for　such　a　small　creature；　and　struck　out　at　full　speed　into　the　desert。　〃e！　e　back！〃　he　shouted；　but　the　dog　paid　no　attention；　and　her　bay　went　off　into　the　distance。　
　　There　was　a　sudden　deep　silence　as　she　ceased　giving　tongue；　and　in　the　silence　he　suddenly　started；　realizing　that　another　noise；　too；　had　stopped。　The　idling　engine　had　stalled。　in　quick　panic　he　leaped　back　into　the　car　and　pressed　the；　starter…button。　The　engine　resumed　its　steady　purring。　Yet；　he　was　shaken。　Feeling　suddenly　conspicuous；　as　if　things　might　see　him　and　he　could　not　see　them；　he　turned　out　the　lights　and　sat　in　the　darkness。　〃What　a　mess！〃　he　said　to　himself。　
　　Faintly；　far　off　now；　he　heard　again　the　baying　of　the　beagle。　The　note　rose　and　fell　as　she　circled　somewhere　behind　the　quarry。　He　considered　going　on；　and　abandoning　her。