第3章 The Celebrated Jumping Frog of Calaveras County

In compliance with the request of a friend of mine, who wrote me from the East, I called on good-natured, garrulous old Simon Wheeler, and inquired after my friend’s friend, Leonidas W. Smiley, as requested to do, and I hereunto append the result.I have a lurking suspicion that Leonidas W.Smiley is a myth;that my friend never knew such a personage;and that he only conjectured that, if I asked old Wheeler about him, it would remind him of his infamous Jim Smiley, and he would go to work and bore me nearly to death with some infernal reminiscence of him as long and tedious as it should be useless to me.If that was the design, it certainly succeeded.

I found Simon Wheeler dozing comfortably by the bar-room stove of the old, dilapidated tavern in the ancient mining camp of Angel’s, and I noticed that he was fat and bald-headed, and had an expression of winning gentleness and simplicity upon his tranquil countenance. He roused up and gave me good-day.I told him a friend of mine had commissioned me to make some inquiries about a cherished companion of his boyhood named Leonidas W.Smiley Rev.Leonidas W.Smiley a young minister of the Gospel, who he had heard was at one time a resident of Angel’s Camp.I added that, if Mr.Wheeler could tell me any thing about this Rev.Leonidas W.Smiley, I would feel under many obligations to him.

Simon Wheeler backed me into a corner and blockaded me there with his chair, and then sat me down and reeled off the monotonous narrative which follows this paragraph. He never smiled, he never frowned, he never changed his voice from the gentle-flowing key to which he tuned the initial sentence, he never betrayed the slightest suspicion of enthusiasm;but all through the interminable narrative there ran a vein of impressive earnestness and sincerity, which showed me plainly that, so far from his imagining that there was any thing ridiculous or funny about his story, he regarded it as a really important matter, and admired its two heroes as men of transcendent genius in finesse.To me, the spectacle of a man drifting serenely along through such a queer yarn without ever smiling, was exquisitely absurd.As I said before, I asked him to tell me what he knew of Rev.Leonidas W.Smiley, and he replied as follows.I let him go on in his own way, and never interrupted him once:

There was a feller here once by the name of Jim Smiley, in the winter of’49 or may be it was the spring of’50 I don’t recollect exactly, somehow, though what makes me think it was one or the other is because I remember the big flume wasn’t finished when he first came to the camp;but any way, he was the curiosest man about always betting on any thing that turned up you ever see, if he could get any body to bet on the other side;and if he couldn’t, he’d change sides.Any way that suited the other man would suit him any way just so’s he got a bet, he was satisfied.But still he was lucky, uncommon lucky;he most always come out winner.He was always ready and laying for a chance;there couldn’t be no solittry thing mentioned but that feller’d offer to bet on it, and take any side you please, as I was just telling you.If there was a horse-race, you’d find him flush, or you’d find him busted at the end of it;if there was a dog-fight, he’d bet on it;if there was a cat-fight, he’d bet on it;if there was a chicken-fight, he’d bet on it;why, if there was two birds setting on a fence, he would bet you which one would fly first;or if there was a camp-meeting, he would be there reg’lar, to bet on Parson Walker, which he judged to be the best exhorter about here, and so he was, too, and a good man.If he even seen a straddle-bug start to go anywheres, he would bet you how long it would take him to get wherever he was going to, and if you took him up, he would foller that straddle-bug to Mexico but what he would find out where he was bound for and how long he was on the road.Lots of the boys here has seen that Smiley, and can tell you about him.Why, it never made no difference to him he would bet on any thing the dangdest feller.Parson Walker’s wife laid very sick once, for a good while, and it seemed as if they warn’s going to save her;but one morning he come in, and Smiley asked how she was, and he said she was considerable better thank the Lord for his infinite mercy and coming on so smart that, with the blessing of Providence, she’d get well yet;and Smiley, before he thought, says，“Well, I’ll risk two-and-a-half that she don’t, any way.”

Thish-yer Smiley had a mare the boys called her the fifteen-minute nag, but that was only in fun, you know, because, of course, she was faster than that and he used to win money on that horse, for all she was so slow and always had the asthma, or the distemper, or the consumption, or something of that kind.They used to give her two or three hundred yards start, and then pass her under way;but always at the fag-end of the race she’d get excited and desperate-like, and come cavorting and straddling up, and scattering her legs around limber, sometimes in the air, and sometimes out to one side amongst the fences, and kicking up m-o-r-e dust, and raising m-o-r-e racket with her coughing and sneezing and blowing her nose and always fetch up at the stand just about a neck ahead, as near as you could cipher it down.

And he had a little small bull pup, that to look at him you’d think he wan’s worth a cent, but to set around and look ornery, and lay for a chance to steal something.But as soon as money was up on him, he was a different dog;his underjaw’d begin to stick out like the fo’castle of a steamboat, and his teeth would uncover, and shine savage like the furnaces.And a dog might tackle him, and bully-rag him, and bite him, and throw him over his shoulder two or three times, and Andrew Jackson which was the name of the pup Andrew Jackson would never let on but what he was satisfied, and hadn’t expected nothing else and the bets being doubled and doubled on the other side all the time, till the money was all up;and then all of a sudden he would grab that other dog jest by the j’int of his hind leg and freeze on it not chew, you understand, but only jest grip and hang on till they thronged up the sponge, if it was a year.Smiley always come out winner on that pup, till he harnessed a dog once that didn’t have no hind legs, because they’d been sawed off by a circular saw, and when the thing had gone along far enough, and the money was all up, and he come to make a snatch for his pet bolt, he saw in a minute how he’d been imposed on, and how the other dog had him in the door, so to speak, and he peered surprised, and then he looked sorter discouraged-like, and didn’t try no more to win the fight, and so he got shucked out bad.He give Smiley a look, as much as to say his heart was broke, and it was his fault, for putting up a dog that hadn’t no hind legs for him to take bolt of, which was his main dependence in a fight, and then he limped off a piece and laid down and died.It was a good pup, was that Andrew Jackson, and would have made a name for hisself if he’d lived, for the stuff was in him, and he had genius I know it, because he hadn’t had no opportunities to speak of, and it don’t stand to reason that a dog could make such a fight as he could under them circumstances, if he hadn’t no talent.It always makes me feel sorry when I think of that last fight of his’n, and the way it turned out.

Well, thish-yer Smiley had rat-tarriers, and chicken cocks, and tom-cats, and all of them kind of things, till you couldn’t rest, and you couldn’t fetch nothing for him to bet on but he’d match you.He ketched a frog one day, and took him home, and said he cal’klated to edercate him;and so he never done nothing for three months but set in his back yard and learn that frog to jump.And you bet you he did learn him, too.He’d give him a little punch behind, and the next minute you’d see that frog whirling in the air like a doughnut see him turn one summerset, or may be a couple, if he got a good start, and come down flat-footed and all right, like a cat.He got him up so in the matter of catching flies, and kept him in practice so constant, that he’d nail a fly every time as far as he could see him.

Smiley said all a frog wanted was education, and he could do most any thing and I believe him.Why, I’ve seen him set Dan’l Webster down here on this floor Dan’l Webster was the name of the frog and sing out，“Flies, Dan’l，flies!”and quicker’n you could wink, he’d spring straight up, and snake a fly off’n the counter there, and flop down on the floor again as solid as a gob of mud, and fall to scratching the side of his head with his hind foot as indifferent as if he hadn’t no idea he’d been doin’any more’n any frog might do.You never see a frog so modest and straightforward as he was, for all he was so gifted.And when it come to fair and square jumping on a dead level, he could get over more ground at one straddle than any animal of his breed you ever see.Jumping on a dead level was his strong suit, you understand;and when it come to that, Smiley would ante up money on him as long as he had a red.Smiley was monstrous proud of his frog, and well he might be, for fellers that had traveled and been everywheres, all said he laid over any frog that ever they see.

Well, Smiley kept the beast in a little lattice box, and he used to fetch him down town sometimes and lay for a bet.One day a feller a stranger in the camp, he was come across him with his box, and says:

“What might it be that you’ve got in the box?”

And Smiley says, sorter indifferent like，“It might be a parrot, or it might be a canary, may be, but it an’t it’s only just a frog.”

And the feller took it, and looked at it careful, and turned it round this way and that, and says，“H’m so’tis.Well, what’s he good for?”

“Well，”Smiley says, easy and careless，“He’s good enough for one thing, I should judge he can outjump any frog in Calaveras county.”

The feller took the box again, and took another long, particular look, and give it back to Smiley, and says, very deliberate，“Well, I don’t see no p’ints about that frog that’s any better’n any other frog.”

“May be you don’t，”Smiley says.“May be you understand frogs, and may be you don’t understand’em;may be you’ve had experience, and may be you an’t only an amateur, as it were.Anyways, I’ve got my opinion, and I’ll risk forty dollars that he can outjump any frog in Calaveras county.”

And the feller studied a minute, and then says, kinder sad like，“Well, I’m only a stranger here, and I an’t got no frog;but if I had a frog, I’d bet you.”

And then Smiley says，“That’s all right that’s all right if you’ll hold my box a minute, I’ll go and get you a frog.”And so the feller took the box, and put up his forty dollars along with Smiley’s, and set down to wait.

So he set there a good while thinking and thinking to hisself, and then he got the frog out and prized his mouth open and took a tea-spoon and filled him full of quail shot filled him pretty near up to his chin and set him on the floor.Smiley he went to the swamp and slopped around in the mud for a long time, and finally he ketched a frog, and fetched him in, and give him to this feller, and says:

“Now, if you’re ready, set him alongside of Dan’l, with his fore-paws just even with Dan’l, and I’ll give the word.”Then he says，“One two three jump!”and him and the feller touched up the frogs from behind, and the new frog hopped off, but Dan’l give a heave, and hysted up his shoulders so like a Frenchman, but it wan’s no use he couldn’t budge;he was planted as solid as an anvil, and he couldn’t no more stir than if he was anchored out.Smiley was a good deal surprised, and he was disgusted too, but he didn’t have no idea what the matter was, of course.

The feller took the money and started away;and when he was going out at the door, he sorter jerked his thumb over his shoulders this way at Dan’l, and says again, very deliberate，“Well, I don’t see no p’ints about that frog that’s any better’n any other frog.”

Smiley he stood scratching his head and looking down at Dan’l a long time, and at last he says，“I do wonder what in the nation that frog throw’d off for I wonder if there an’t something the matter with him he‘pears to look mighty baggy, somehow.”And he ketched Dan’l by the nap of the neck, and lifted him up and says，“Why, blame my cats, if he don’t weigh five pound!”and turned him upside down, and he belched out a double handful of shot.And then he see how it was, and he was the maddest man he set the frog down and took out after that feller, but he never ketched him.And—

[Here Simon Wheeler heard his name called from the front yard, and got up to see what was wanted.]And turning to me as he moved away, he said:“Just set where you are, stranger, and rest easy I an’t going to be gone a second.”

But, by your leave, I did not think that a continuation of the history of the enterprising vagabond Jim Smiley would be likely to afford me much information concerning the Rev.Leonidas W.Smiley, and so I started away.

At the door I met the sociable Wheeler returning, and he button-holed me and recommenced:

“Well, thish-yer Smiley had a yeller one-eyed cow that didn’t have no tail, only jest a short stump like a bannanner, and—”

“Oh!hang Smiley and his afflicted cow!”I muttered, good-naturedly, and bidding the old gentleman good-day, I departed.

卡拉维拉斯县有名的跳蛙

一位朋友从东部给我写信来。我应他的请求，去拜访性情和蔼、喋喋不休的老西蒙·威勒，并按要求打听我朋友的朋友里奥尼达斯·W.斯迈雷。我还要附上结果。我暗自怀疑，里奥尼达斯·W.斯迈雷是虚构的故事人物，我的朋友根本不认识这样一个人。他只是推测，要是我向老威勒打听有关他的事儿，这会让他想起声名狼藉的吉姆·斯迈雷。然后，他就开始行动，用他的那些冗长乏味、对我无用的恼人往事烦扰我。如果我朋友存心这么干的话，那他真的成功了。

我发现西蒙·威勒正在安吉尔镇老矿山营地那座破旧小酒馆酒吧间的炉边舒服地打盹。我注意到他肥胖秃顶，平静的脸上带着动人的温和与朴实的表情。他站起来，向我问好。我告诉他说，一位朋友托我打听一位少年时代的挚友，挚友名叫里奥尼达斯·W.斯迈雷——里奥尼达斯·W.斯迈雷牧师，是一位年轻的福音传教士，那位朋友听说他曾在安吉尔镇的屯子待过。我又补充说，要是威勒先生能告诉我这位里奥尼达斯·W.斯迈雷牧师的任何情况，我将对他感激不尽。

西蒙·威勒把我逼到墙角，用椅子堵住我的去路，然后让我坐下来，滔滔不绝地讲了下面这段单调乏味的故事。他自始至终都没有微笑，没有皱眉，始终未改最初讲话时使用的不缓不急的腔调，没有流露一丁点的迹象。但是，整个冗长的叙述中流淌着一股令人难忘的认真与诚挚，这明白地告诉我，他认为这故事并没有那么荒唐可笑，而是一件真正重要的事儿，而且，他钦佩故事里的两位男主人公，认为他们是运用计谋的卓越天才。在我看来，一个人从不微笑沉着安详地编出这种古怪的故事，这种景象的确荒唐可笑。如前所说，我请他把了解的有关里奥尼达斯·W.斯迈雷牧师的情况告诉我，他回答如下。我任凭他按照自己的方式讲，一次也没有打断他。

从前这里有一个叫吉姆·斯迈雷的家伙，那是一八四九年的冬天，或许是一八五〇年的春天——不知为什么，我记不准了，不过，我认为不是一八四九年就是一八五〇年，因为我记得他刚到营地时，那个大人工渠还没有完工，但不管怎样，他是最古怪的人，要是他能找到愿意打赌的人，他总是碰上什么就赌什么；要是他找不到，他就投到对方去。不管怎样，别人想怎么赌，他就怎么赌——不管怎样，只要能赌，他就心满意足。尽管如此，他还是非常幸运，难得的幸运，他大多数会赢。他总是严阵以待，等待机会。就像我刚才告诉你的那样，不管什么事儿，只要有人提出来，你任选一方，那个家伙就会主动去赌。要是有马赛，结束时你发现他不是赢一个大满贯，就是输个精光；要是有狗咬狗，他一定会赌；要是有猫战，他一定会赌；要是有斗鸡，他也一定会赌；要是有两只鸟落在篱笆上，他会赌哪只鸟先飞；要是有野营集会，他会经常到场拿沃克牧师打赌，他判断沃克牧师在这一带是最好的布道者，而沃克也的确是这样，并且是一个好人。就是看见一只屎壳郎开始朝什么地方爬，他也会跟你打赌它多长时间才能爬到它要去的地方。要是你跟他打赌，他就会跟着那只屎壳郎跑到墨西哥，看它去不去那里，路上要几天的时间。这里的许多男孩都见过那个斯迈雷，都能告诉你有关他的情况。啊，对他来说什么都一样——他任何事儿都可以拿来赌——该死的家伙。有一次，沃克牧师的太太病得很重，有好一阵子，好像都没救了。可是，一天早晨，他走了进来，斯迈雷问他太太怎么样，他说她好多了——感谢上帝的无限仁慈——有上帝的保佑，她恢复得很快，一定会好转。他还没来得及想，斯迈雷就说：“啊，我赌两块五，她无论如何都好转不了。”

这个斯迈雷有一匹母马——小伙子们都叫它“一刻钟老太太”，但你知道，这只是开玩笑，因为它跑得当然比这快——他经常靠这匹马赢钱，因为它总是慢慢腾腾，不是得哮喘、马腺疫，就是得肺病或类似疾病。他们常常给它两三百码的先跑权，然后中途超过它，但到比赛终点时，它总会兴奋起来，拼命似的，腾跃跨立，轻快地撒开腿，有时腾在空中，有时撒向篱笆的一侧，踢得尘土飞扬，它咳嗽、打喷嚏、攥鼻涕，掀起更多的喧闹声——赶到裁判席前头的时候，它总是比别的马提前一头的距离，早得刚好让人能看明白。

“他还有一只小牛头犬，看着它，你会以为它一文不值，只会四处乱跑，并且认为它其貌不扬，总在等机会偷什么。可是，一在它身上下注，它就成了一条不寻常的狗。它的下颌开始像轮船的前甲板一样伸出，牙齿露出，像炉子一样闪光。别的狗抓它、威吓它、咬它，把它给摔倒两三次，但安德鲁·杰克逊——这是那条狗的名字——常常装作一副心满意足、没有别的什么奢望的样子——押在另一边的赌注翻了一倍又一倍，直到钱全都押上，这时，它突然一下咬住那条狗的后腿关节，紧咬不放——你明白，光咬，咬住不放，哪怕等上一年，直到对方认输。斯迈雷总是靠那条狗打赌胜出，直到有一次它遇上一条没有后腿的狗，因为这狗的后腿被圆锯给锯掉了。等事儿进行得差不多，钱都押上后，安德鲁正要去咬它常爱咬的地方，才立即明白自己上当了，可以说，才明白另一条狗把它骗进了门里，它好像吃了一惊，随后它看上去有点儿泄劲，不再努力去赢得那场搏斗，他被人骗惨了。它看了斯迈雷一眼，好像是说它伤透了心，这都是斯迈雷的错，弄了一条没有后腿的狗让它去咬，咬后腿是它在搏斗中的主要手段。后来，它一瘸一拐地走了一会儿，倒在地上死了。那是一条好狗，要是那个安德鲁·杰克逊还活着，一定会出名，因为它素质好，又有天赋——这我知道，因为说起来，安德鲁·杰克逊有真本事，它什么场面没经过啊，它在那种情况下能这样搏斗，要是说它没有天赋，不合情理。每当想起它最后的那场搏斗和最后的情形，总是让我感到难过。

“啊，这个斯迈雷还养过逮老鼠的小猎狗、小公鸡、公猫和诸如此类的玩意儿，无论你拿什么跟他赌，他都能势均力敌，让你不得安生。有一天，他逮了一只青蛙带回家，说是要好好训练它。于是，他连续三个月什么也不干，只是待在后院教那只青蛙蹦跳。他真的让青蛙学会了。他从后面轻轻地捣一下青蛙，随即你便会看到那只青蛙像炸面包圈一样在空中飞快旋转——看到它翻一个筋斗，要是它起跳得好，也许能翻两个，然后它像猫一样稳稳当当地落在地上。他还训练青蛙逮苍蝇，让它经常练习，无论苍蝇飞多远，只要它一看到，它都能牢牢逮住。斯迈雷说青蛙需要的就是训练，容易让人误解——他这话我相信。啊，我见过他把丹尼尔·韦伯斯特放在这里的地板上——丹尼尔·韦伯斯特是这只青蛙的名字——然后大声喊道：“苍蝇，丹尼尔，苍蝇！”快得让你都来不及眨眼，它就直跳起来，一口吞下那边柜台上的一只苍蝇，然后像一团泥似的又落在地上，像平常一样用后爪子抓耳挠腮，漠然处之，好像它一点儿也没有感觉自己做得比其他青蛙强多少。你从来没有见过像它这样朴实、爽快的青蛙，尽管它非常有才。你要明白，只要是完全在同一水平上公正起跳，它能比你见过的任何青蛙跳得都高。你要明白，完全从同一水平上起跳是它的特长。每当遇到这种情况时，斯迈雷只要有一分钱，就会在它的身上押注。斯迈雷对他的青蛙骄傲得不得了。那些走南闯北、见多识广的人都说，它可能胜过他们见过的任何青蛙。

斯迈雷常常把青蛙放在一个小笼子里，有时带它到城里和人赌。有一天，一个家伙——他是屯子里的陌生人，正好碰到斯迈雷提着青蛙笼子，就问道：

“你那笼子里装的是什么？”

斯迈雷有点儿漠然地说：“它也许是一只鹦鹉，也许是一只金丝雀，但它不是——它不过是一只青蛙。”

那家伙拿过笼子，仔细地看着，转来转去，然后说：“嗯——原来是这样。啊，它有什么用处？”

“噢，”斯迈雷轻松随便地说，“首先它还不错。我认为它能跳过卡拉维拉斯县的任何一只青蛙。”

那家伙又拿过笼子，仔细看了好久，还给斯迈雷，说：“噢，我看不出这只青蛙在哪点比别的青蛙强。”

“也许你看不出来，”斯迈雷说，“也许你懂青蛙，也许你不懂；也许你有经验，也许可以说你只是一个外行。不管怎样，我就这么认为，认定我的判断。我赌四十美元，他能跳过卡拉维拉斯县任何一只青蛙。”

那家伙考虑了一会儿，然后好像有点儿难过地说：“啊，我在这里人生地不熟，也没有青蛙。要是我有一只青蛙，就会和你打赌。”

这时，斯迈雷说：“那好——那好——要是你替我拿一会儿这笼子，我就去给你逮一只青蛙。”于是，那家伙拿着笼子，把他的四十美元和斯迈雷的四十美元放在一起，坐下来等。

他就这样坐在那里寻思了好一阵子，然后拿出青蛙，扒开它的嘴，拿着茶匙，给青蛙灌满了打鹌鹑的弹丸，一直灌到了接近青蛙的下巴处，然后把青蛙放在地上。斯迈雷走到沼泽地，在泥浆里来回走了好一阵子，最后逮住一只青蛙。他把它拿进来，交给那家伙，说：“现在，要是你愿意，就把它跟丹尼尔并排放在一起，把它的前爪和丹尼尔的放齐，我来发令。”接着，他说：“一——二——三——跳！”他和那家伙从后面点了一下那两只青蛙，那只新来的青蛙就跳了出去，而丹尼尔喘了一口粗气，提了提肩膀——就像法国人一样，但无济于事——它无法动弹，像铁砧一样牢牢地定在那里，再也挪不动地方，如抛锚一般。斯迈雷大吃一惊，也很生气，但他的确不知道是怎么回事。

那家伙拿起钱就走，出门时，大拇指在肩上朝丹尼尔——像这样——猛地晃了晃，又小心翼翼地说：“啊，我看不出来这只青蛙比别的青蛙好。”

斯迈雷站在那里直挠头，低头看了丹尼尔好一阵子，最后说道：“我真不知道这只青蛙到底为什么出错——我不知道它出了什么毛病——看来它肚子胀得非常厉害。”说完，他抓着丹尼尔的脖颈，把它拎起来，说：“啊，它要没有五磅重才怪呢！”说着他把青蛙颠倒过来，青蛙吐出了两把弹丸。这时，斯迈雷才明白是怎么回事。他气得不行，放下青蛙，跑出去追那家伙，但他根本追不上。

（这时，西蒙·威勒听到前院有人喊他的名字，就站起来，去看看找他干什么。）他一边离开，一边扭回头对我说：“外乡人，你就待在那里，放心——我去去就来。”

但是，对不起，我觉得，继续听富有魄力的吉姆·斯迈雷的故事不可能给我提供有关里奥尼达斯·W.斯迈雷牧师的大量情况，所以就起身离开。

在门口，我碰到了爱好交际的威勒回来，他强留住我，又打开了话匣子：

“啊，这个斯迈雷有一头独眼黄牛，没有尾巴，只有像香蕉似的短短一截，而且——”

“噢，让斯迈雷和他备受折磨的母牛见鬼去吧！”我温和地喃喃道，然后告别老先生，就离开了。