gs.earthabides-第50部分

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　　〃You　may　have　some　trouble　in　Arizona；〃　he　went　on。　〃After　you　get　to　the　mountains；　but　then。。。。　〃　
　　〃What's　Arry…？　What　is　it？…Arry…zone…a？〃　
　　Bob　was　asking；　and　it　was　a　fair　enough　question。　But　Ish　found　himself　stumped　to　answer　it。　What　Arizona　once　had　been…even　that　was　a　hard　one。　Had　it　been　a　certain　amount　of　territory；　or　had　it　been　essentially　a　corporate　entity；　an　abstraction。　Even　so；　how　could　he　explain　in　a　few　words　what　a　〃state〃　had　been？　Much　less；　how　could　he　explain　what　Arizona　now　was？　
　　〃Oh；〃　he　said　finally；　〃Arizona…that　was　just　a　name　for　that　part　over　there　beyond　the　river。〃　Then　he　had　an　inspiration；　〃See；　on　the　map　it's　this　part　inside　the　yellow　line。〃　
　　〃Yes；〃　said　Bob；　〃I　suppose　they　had　a　fence　around　it？〃　
　　〃Well；　I　doubt　whether　they　had。〃　
　　〃That's　right。　They　wouldn't　have　needed　a　fence　where　the　river　was。〃　
　　（Let　it　pass；　thought　Ish。　He　thinks　Arizona　is　like　an　old　fenced…in　backyard；　only　bigger。）　
　　After　that；　however；　he　stopped　referring　to　states；　and　mentioned　cities。　The　boys　knew　what　a　city　was；　that　is；　it　was　a　lot　of　littered　streets　and　weather…beaten　buildings。　Of　course；　since　they　themselves　lived　in　a　city；　they　could　easilyimagine　another　city　and　another　munity　like　their　own。　
　　He　routed　them　through　Denver；　Omaha；　and　Chicago；　wanting　to　see　what　would　have　happened　in　the　great　cities。　By　that　time　it　would　be　spring。　Beyond　that；　he　told　them　to　try　for　Washington　and　New　York；　by　the　route　that　seemed　the　most　passable。　
　　〃The　Pennsylvania　Turnpike　may　still　be　the　best　way　to　get　across　the　mountains。　It　will　be　hard　to　block　a　four…lane　highway　like　that；　and　even　the　tunnels　should　still　be　open。〃　
　　For　the　return　route　he　left　them　to　their　own　choice；　by　that　time　they　would　know　more　about　conditions　than　he　did。　He　suggested；　however；　that　they　swing　far　to　the　south；　since　on　account　of　the　cold　winters　there　would　probably　have　been　a　drift　of　population　toward　the　Gulf　Coast。　
　　They　drove　the　jeep　every　day；　and　thus；　by　the　process　of　elimination　through　blow…outs；　they　got　tires　which　seemed　likely　to　stand　up　under　some　wear。　
　　On　the　fourth　day　they　left；　the　back　of　the　jeep　jammed　with　an　extra　battery；　tires；　and　other　equipment；　the　boys　themselves；　half…wild　with　the　excitement　of　the　prospect；　their　mothers；　close　to　tears　at　the　thought　of　so　long　a　separation；　Ish　himself；　nervous　with　the　desire　to　go　along。　
　　The　boundaries；　like　the　fences；　drew　lines　that　were　hard　and　unpromising。　They　too　were　man…made；　abstractions　dominating　reality。　Where　you　crossed　by　the　highway；　on　a　line；　the　road…surface　changed。　It　was　smooth　in　Delaware；　but　when　you　went　into　Maryland；　you　felt　a　change　in　vibration；　and　all　at　once　the　tires　hummed　differently。　〃State　line；〃　the　sign　read。　〃Entering　Nebraska。　Speed　limit　60　M。　P。　H。　〃　So　even　right　and　wrong　altered　with　the　sharp　snap　of　a　discontinuity；　andyou　stepped　harder　on　the　throttle。　
　　At　the　national　boundary　the　flags　showed　different　colors；　though　the　same　breeze　blew　them。　You　stopped　for　customs　and　immigration；　and　were　suddenly　a　stranger；　unfamiliar。　〃Look；〃　you　said；　〃that　policeman　has　a　different　uniform！〃　You　got　new　money；　and　even　for　picture　post…cards　the　stamps　had　to　have　another　face　on　them。　〃Better　drive　extra　carefully；〃　you　said。　〃Wouldn't　be　good　to　get　arrested　over　here。〃　That　was　a　funny　business！　You　stepped　across　a　line　you　couldn't　see；　and　then　you　were　one　of　those　queer　people…a　foreigner！　
　　But　boundaries　fade　even　faster　than　fences。　Imaginary　lines　need　no　rust　to　efface　them。　Then　there　will　be　no　quick　shifts；　and　adjustments；　and　perhaps　it　will　be　easier　on　the　mind。　They　will　say　as　in　the　beginning：　〃About　where　oaks　start　to　get　thin；　and　the　pines　take　over。　〃　They　will　say：　〃Over　across　there…can't　tell　exactly…in　the　foothills　where　it　gets　drier　and　you　start　seeing　sage…brush。　
　　After　the　boys　had　left；　there　seemed　to　be　a　settling　down　into　another　one　of　those　calm　and　happy　periods　which　had　led　them　to　name　one　certain　time　the　Good　Year。　Day　after　day　things　drifted；　week　after　week。　The　rains　held　on　late…hard　showers；　quickly　clearing　afterwards；　with　fine　blue　weather；　so　that　the　far…off　towers　of　the　Golden　Gate　Bridge　stood　out　clean…etched　and　still　majestic　against　the　the　western　sky。　
　　In　the　mornings；　Ish　usually　managed　to　herd　enough　of　them　together　to　get　some　work　done　on　the　well。　Their　first　shaft　hit　bed　rock　before　water；　for　on　the　slope　of　the　hill　the　soil　was　thin。　But　they　managed　to　take　the　second　shaft　down；　until　they　struck　a　good　flow。　They　walled　the　well　in　with　planking；　and　covered　it；　and　rigged　a　hand…pump。　By　this　time；　they　had　all　bee　accustomed　to　using　the　outhouses；　and　the　thought　of　the　labor　involved　to　make　the　toilets　work　again　by　means　of　pipes　and　tanks　and　hand…pumping　seemed　more　than　was　worthwhile。　And　so　they　put　it　off。　
　　The　fishing　was　good　now。　Everyone　wanted　to　go　fishing；　and　other　matters　seemed　to　take　second　place。　
　　In　the　evenings；　they　often　gathered　together；　and　sang　songs　to　the　acpaniment　of　Ish's　accordion。　He　sometimes　suggested　that　they　should　try　singing　parts。　When　they　did；　old　George　carried　a　good　resonant　bass；　and　the　others　caught　on　to　the　idea；　but　no　one　seemed　very　much　interested　in　this　sophistication。　
　　No；　Ish　decided　again　as　he　had　decided　long　before；　they　were　not　a　very　musical　group。　Years　before；　he　had　tried　bringing　home　records　of　symphonies　and　playing　them　on　the　wind…up　phonograph。　Such　rendition　of　course　was　not　very　good；　even　so；　you　could　follow　the　themes。　But　he　never　got　the　children　interested。　At　some　melodic　passage　they　might　leave　off　their　own　playing　or　wood…carving　and　look　up；　listening　with　pleasure　for　a　moment。　As　soon；　however；　as　the　development　became　a　little　plicated；　the　children　went　back　to　their　own　play。　Well；　what　could　you　expect　of　merely　a　few　average　people　and　their　descendants？　（No；　a　little　better　than　average；　he　insisted…but　possibly　not　in　musical　appreciation。）　In　the　Old　Times　one　American　in　a　hundred　might　have　had　a　deep　or　real　appreciation　of　Beethoven；　and　those　few　were　probably　just　among　those　more　sophisticated　and　intense　people　who；　like　the　more　highly　bred　dogs；　had　apparently　been　less　able　to　survive　the　shock　of　the　Great　Disaster。　
　　As　an　experiment；　he　also　tried　jazz　records。　At　the　loud　blare　of　the　saxophones；　the　children　again　left　off　their　own　enterprises；　but　again　the　interest　had　been　momentary。　Le　jazz　hot！　It　too；　with　all　its　involuted　rhythms；　had　been　a　sophistication；　it　appealed；　not　to　a　simple　and　primitive　mind；　but　to　one　that　was　highly　developed　and　specialized；　at　least　along　that　particular　line。　You　might　as　well　expect　the　children　to　appreciate　Picasso　or　Joyce。　
　　In　fact…and　this　was　something　that　encouraged　him…the　younger　generation　showed　little　interest　in　listening　to　the　phonograph　at　all；　they　preferred　to　do　their　own　singing。　He　took　this　as　a　good　sign：　that　they　would　rather　participate　than　listen；　rather　be　actors　than　audiences。　
　　They　failed；　however；　to　take　the　next　step　and　pose　tunes　and　words　of　their　own。　Ish　himself　occasionally　tried　making　up　a　verse　with　topical　references；　but　either　he　had　no　knack　for　it　or　else　his　efforts　met　with　unconscious　resistance　as　being　a　violation　of　tradition。　
　　So　they　sang　in　unison　against　the　background　of　the　standardized　chords　and　bumping　bass　of　the　accordion。　The　simpler　tunes；　he　observed；　they　liked　the　best。　The　words　seemed　to　make　little　difference。　They　sang　〃Carry　me　back　to　old　Virginny〃　although　they　had　no　idea　what　〃Virginny〃　was　or　who　was　asking　to　be　carried　back。　They　sang　〃Halleluiah；　I'm　a　bum！〃　without　caring　what　a　bum　was。　They　sang　plaintively　of　Barbara　Allen　although　none　of　them　had　even　known　of　unrequited　love。　
　　Often；　in　those　weeks；　Ish　thought　of　the　two　boys　in　the　Jeep。　Perhaps　the　children　would　call　for　〃Home　on　the　Range；〃　and　as　his　left　hand　shifted　to　the　G…buttons；　he　would　have　a　sudden　thought；　and　a　pang　with　it。　Just　now　Bob　and　Dick　might　be　somewhere　far　out　in　the　old　range　country。　
　　Playing　mechanically；　he　would　wonder。　Were　the　deer　and　the　antelope　playing　there　now？　Or　was　it　cattle？　Or　had　the　buffalo　e　back？　
　　More　often；　however；　thoughts　of　the　boys　came　to　him　in　the　dark　hours　of　the　night　when　some　dream；　caused　by　his　very　anxiety；　brought　him　out　of　sleep　in　sudden　terror　to　lie　nervously　considering　possibilities。　
　　How　could　he　ever　have　let　them　try　it？　He　thought　of　all　the　dangers　of　flood　and　storm。　And　the　car！　You　could　never　trust　young　fellows　with　a　car；　and　even　though　there　was　no　danger　from　traffic；　they　might　run　off　the　road。　There　would　be　many　bad　places。　The　boys　would　take　chances。　
　　There　would　be　mountain…lions　and　bears　and　bad…tempered　bulls。　Bulls　were　worst　of　all；　because　they　never　seemed　to　have　lost　a　certain　contempt　for　men；　sprung　perhaps　from　age…old　familiarity。　
　　No…more　likely；　the　car　would　break　down。　Then　they　would　be　marooned；　hundreds　or　even　thou