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And in this fashion he went out of view. Wolf waited for him to reappear. He waited a long minute, silently, quietly, without movement, as though turned to stone—withal stone quick with eagerness and desire. He barked once, and waited. Then he turned and trotted back to Walt Irvine. He sniffed his hand and dropped down heavily at his feet, watching the trail where it curved emptily from view.
就这样，他走出了他们的视线。沃尔夫还在等着他再次出现。它一动不动地，静静地等了好长时间，好像变成了石头——一块满怀渴望和期盼的石头。它轻吠一声，还是等着。接下来，它慢慢地折回了沃尔特·欧文的身边。它嗅了嗅他的手，重重地趴下来，抬眼望着小路上空荡荡的拐角。
The tiny stream slipping down the mossy-lipped stone seemed suddenly to increase the volume of its gurgling noise. Save for the meadow-larks, there was no other sound. The great yellow butterflies drifted silently through the sunshine and lost themselves in the drowsy shadows. Madge gazed triumphantly at her husband.
小小的溪流淌过布满青苔的岩石，潺潺的水声似乎突然变大了。除了云雀的欢唱，再无别的声响了。大黄蝶静静地在阳光下飞舞，渐渐隐入了沉寂的阴影。马奇凝视着丈夫，眼中充满胜利的快意。
A few minutes later Wolf got upon his feet. Decision and deliberation marked his movements. He did not glance at the man and woman. His eyes were fixed up the trail. He had made up his mind. They knew it. And they knew, so far as they were concerned, that the ordeal had just begun.
过了几分钟，沃尔夫站起来了。它的动作显得坚定而从容。它没有朝欧文和马奇看一眼。它的眼睛紧盯着那条小路。它已经做好了决定。两人也看出了这一点。就现在的情形来看，他们明白，最终的考验到了。
He broke into a trot, and Madge's lips pursed, forming an avenue for the caressing sound that it was the will of her to send forth. But the caressing sound was not made. She was impelled to look at her husband, and she saw the sternness with which he watched her. The pursed lips relaxed, and she sighed inaudibly.
它开始小跑起来，而马奇也撅起了嘴，做出一个可以发出亲切呼唤的口型——她多想呼唤出来呀。但是她没有唤出来。她不由自主地看了一眼丈夫，而他正严厉地看着她。撅起的嘴唇松懈了，她非常轻微地叹了口气。
Wolf's trot broke into a run. Wider and wider were the leaps he made. Not once did he turn his head, his wolf's brush standing out straight behind him. He cut sharply across the curve of the trail and was gone.
沃尔夫的小跑变成了奔跑。它的步子越来越大。它一次都没有回过头，狼一样的尾巴竖直地立在身后。它飞快地闪过小路的拐角，再也看不见了。
Bridge Bilingual Classics
Jack London's Short Stories, Vol. XVIII
杰克·伦敦短篇小说集（十八）
Schizophrenia
Jack London