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一天狐狸独自外出寻找猎物，却一点儿也不走运。他很长时间没吃东西了，肚子饿得咕咕叫，声音大得他都听不到任何别的声音了。突然他意识到有人唱着歌过来了。狐狸噌地一下跳到路边，比燕雀拍打尾巴还要快，蜷着身子蹲在矮树丛中。歌声越来越大，狐狸看到有什么东西出现在那边的山顶上，是一只苍鹭翎。狐狸以为翎毛是一只鸟身上的，动了动前爪准备扑过去。但是当翎毛渐渐升高，他才看出根本不是什么鸟，羽毛插在一顶帽子上，那是一个易洛魁族男人的装饰头巾。那个人骑在马背上上了山坡，脸也一晃一晃地映入了狐狸的眼帘。 “要是他看到我，”狐狸暗忖道，“我可能就要永远忘记饥饿的感觉了，谁都知道狐狸皮会让易洛魁族人多么骄傲。”狐狸努力让自己比一只老鼠还小，希望自己不会被看到。 那人走得越来越近了，身上穿着漂亮的衣服。狐狸现在可以清楚地听见他的歌声，那是一首夸耀自己的歌。 "没人比海瑞•费泽更勇敢。”年轻人唱道。“我当然知道，因为我就是他。我的衣服最漂亮，我是最出色的渔夫，如果你不信，瞧瞧就知道。’’ 他要去一位女孩家，他已经钟情这位女孩很长时间了。他要争取打动女孩和她妈妈，这样女孩就会答应他娶她了。他的歌和漂亮衣服都是特意计划的。 但狐狸不再听海瑞•费泽的歌了，也不再注意那漂亮的衣服。他所有的注意力都在他闻到的东西上面——鱼。挂在年轻人毯子卷上的大口袋里装满了鱼！狐狸馋得口水直流，舌头都伸出来了，他已经很长时间没吃鱼了，这时他的恐惧消失了。年轻人骑马经过狐狸身边，但狐狸的思绪早已远远跑到前头了。 “对，”狐狸自言自语道，‘‘有办法啦。”他以最快的速度沿着小树林跑，这样不会被路人发现。很快他就赶在了易洛魁人的前面。大约在一个拐弯处，狐狸跳到路边上，闭上眼睛，张大嘴巴把舌头伸到地上。他静静地等待着，很快他就听见了海瑞•费泽自夸的歌声。 海瑞•费泽全神贯注地唱着歌，绞尽脑汁地找更多的词来夸耀自己穿着崭新的白色鹿皮裤看起来是多么漂亮，结果差一点就从狐狸身上跨过去了。当他从眼角看到狐狸时停了下来。他说道，“这是什么？’他从马上跳了下来。 "呵！一只死狐狸？”他捡起一根长棍子小心地戳了戳狐狸,狐狸没有动。“呦呵，”他说道，“真死了！”他弯下腰仔细地端详起来。狐狸很瘦，毛皮却很光滑。他扯着尾巴把狐狸捡了起来。"嗯，没死很长时间，没什么臭味。"年轻人说这些话时，狐狸张了张嘴，呲了呲牙，但海瑞•费泽没有注意到。 “嗯，”海瑞•费泽说道，“或许我应该现在剥了他的皮。”当他说这话时，狐狸的一只眼睛抽搐了一下，但海瑞•费泽还是没发现。"不，”他接着说道，“我不应该现在剥皮，那会弄脏我漂亮的新衣服，就带着它吧。"于是他走到马边幵始解那只大口袋。“唔呦，”他笑道，“思文•里德的妈妈看到我抓的狐狸就会知道我是个多么了不起的猎人了，这样她就会让女儿给我拿来结婚吃的面包啦。”于是他把狐狸扔到盛鱼的口袋里，系紧袋子，爬上了马背。他很快又唱起歌来，这首歌赞美的是海瑞•费泽是多么了不起的猎人。 狐狸在口袋里静静地呆了几分钟，然后开始从袋子的一边啃，啃出了一个足够大的洞，他就把鱼一条一条地往外扔。最后所有的鱼都扔光了，他又把洞啃得更大一些，跳了出去，享受他的自由和那够他吃好几天的美餐去了。 海湍•费泽忙着唱歌，根本没有注意到这一切，他骑马一路到了思文•里德住的村庄，在她妈妈的房前停下来，他坐在马上唱着歌，很多人都围过来看。他唱自己漂亮的衣服，唱他捉到了许多鱼（实际上鱼是用他妈妈镶珠子的鹿皮鞋换来的）,唱他捕到的猎物。思文•里德和她妈妈走了出来，看着他把手伸到后面拿他的袋子。现在他要向她们展示他是多么优秀的养家人。 他举起口袋，却发现口袋空了，口袋底上有个大洞，他不再唱歌，转过身去悄悄地骑马走了。那天，他明白了浮夸的歌曲并不会使一个人变得伟大。他要做的第一件事是找到狐狸，另一件事就是剥了它的皮。 One day Fox was out walking along. He，d been hunting but had no luck. It was a long time since he，d eaten. His stomach was growling so loudly he could hardly hear anything else. Suddenly he realized someone was coming singing a song. Quicker than the flick of a wren’s tail Fox leaped off the path and crouched down on his belly in the bushes. Louder and louder grew the song. Then Fox saw something begin to appear over the crest1 of the hill. It was a single heron2 feather. Fox moved his front paws, getting ready to leap out at the bird he thought the feather was attached to. But as the feather lifted higher and higher, he realized it was no bird at all. It was the feather attached to the top of a gustoweh3，the head-dress of an Iroquois man whose face now bobbed into sight as he came over the hill on horseback. If he sees me, Fox thought, I can forget about my hunger forever! It was well known that fox skins were prized by the Iroquois. Fox tried to make himself smaller than a mouse, hoping he wouldn’t be seen. Closer and closer the man came. He was wearing fine clothes and Fox could hear the words of man’s song very clearly now. It was a boasting song. “No one is braver than Heron Feather.，’ sang the young man. “And I should know that for I am he. No one wears finer clothing. No one is a better fisherman. If you doubt this, look and see.” He was on his way to the lodge of a young woman he had been watching for some time. He was going to try to impress her and her mother so that the girl would ask him to marry her. His song and his fine clothing were part of the plan. But Fox was no longer listening to Heron Feather's song. He was not seeing those fine clothes. All of Fox’s attention was on what he was smelling. Fish. That large bag hanging from the young man’s blanket roll was full of fish! Fox’s mouth watered and his tongue hung out. It had been such a long time since he had eaten fish. His fears left him. The young man on the horse passed him by, but Fox’s thoughts were far ahead. Yes，Fox said to himself. I think there is a way. As quickly as he could, he ran along through the woods keeping out of sight of the road. Soon he was ahead of the Iroquois man. Just around a bend, Fox laid himself down by the edge of the path. He closed his eyes and opened his mouth so that his tongue hung out in the dirt. Not moving a muscle, he waited. Soon he began to hear Heron Feather's boasting song. Heron Feather was so intent on his singing, trying to find a few more words to describe just how fine he looked in his new white buckskin breechclout that he almost rode right past Fox. When he saw Fox out of the comer of his eye, he stopped. “Enh，” he said, ‘"what is this?” He climbed down from his horse. “Kweh，a dead fox?” Picking up a long stick he carefully prodded the side of the animal. It did not move. “Nyoh，he said, “it is surely dead.” He bent down and looked at it closely. It was skinny, but the pelt was in fine condition. He picked it up by the tail. “Hmm, it has not been dead for long. It only stinks a little bit.” When he said that, Fox’s mouth opened a little and his lips curled back from his teeth, but Heron Feather did not notice. “Hmm，” Heron Feather said, “maybe I should skin it out now.” When he said that one of Fox’s eyes twitched4 a little, but Heron Feather did not notice. “Neh，” he went on, “I should not skin him out now. If I do I may dirty my fine new clothes. I will just take him with me.” He walked back to his horse and began to unlace the bag. “Weh-yoh，he smiled, “when Swaying Reed’s mother sees this fox I caught she will know I am a great hunter. Then she will surely allow her daughter to bring me marriage bread.” He dropped the fox in with his fish, laced the bag shut and climbed back on his horse. Soon he was singing again. This time it was a song about how great a hunter Heron Feather was. Inside the bag Fox lay still for a few minutes. Then he began to gnaw5 at the side. When he had made a hole large enough, he began to drop the fish out, one by one. Finally, when all the fish were gone, he made the hole larger and jumped out to freedom and his best meal in many days. Too busy with his singing, Heron Feather did not even notice. He rode all the way to the village where Swaying Reed lived. He stopped in front of her mother’s lodge and sat there on his horse, singing till many people had gathered around. He sang of his beautiful clothes, of the many fish he caught (he actually had traded his mother’s beaded moccasins for them), of all the animals he hunted and trapped. Swaying Reed and her mother came out of the lodge and watched as he reached back for his bag. Now he would show them what a good provider he was! When he held up the bag and saw that it was empty with a hole in the bottom he stopped singing. Turning around, he rode silently away. He learned that day that boasting songs do not make a person great. It is one thing to find a fox and another to skin it. |
