Day had broken cold and gray, exceedingly cold and gray, when the man turned aside from the main Yukon trail and climbed the high earth-bank, where a dim and little-travelled trail led eastward through the fat spruce timberland.
天色在严寒与灰蒙中亮起，那是极度刺骨的寒冷与灰沉。此时，那个男人离开了育空河主道，爬上高耸的泥岸；眼前一条模糊且鲜有人迹的窄道，蜿蜒向东延伸，穿进茂密的云杉林海。
It was a steep bank, and he paused for breath at the top, excusing the act to himself by looking at his watch. It was nine o'clock. There was no sun nor hint of sun, though there was not a cloud in the sky.
泥岸十分陡峭，他在坡顶停下脚步喘了口气，并看了一眼手表为自己的驻足找个借口。此刻是上午九点整。空中没有太阳，甚至没有丝毫阳光的迹象，尽管万里无云。
The trouble with him was that he was without imagination. He was quick and alert in the things of life, but only in the things, and not in the significances. Fifty degrees below zero meant eighty-odd degrees of frost. Such fact impressed him as being cold and uncomfortable, and that was all.
他的致命缺陷在于他缺乏想象力。在生活的具象琐事上他敏锐警觉，但仅仅停留于表象，而无法洞察其背后的深层意义。零下五十度意味着整整八十多度的严寒霜冻。这一事实给他的感受仅仅是“寒冷与难受”，仅此而已。