19/03/2025
See also chapters 1-6 (of 21) posted above, commencing 15 December 2024.
SBHH07
Zhong Lihe, Songs of Bamboo Hat Hill (Lishan Farm)
鍾理和 著：《笠山農場》 (1955)
Translated by T. M. McClellan
Chapter 7
The first one used a mountain hoe to dig a hole. Each hole was something over a foot in diameter, and the space between two holes was six foot. Before backfilling, the soil had to be broken up very finely, hoed very loose, so that the plant’s roots would find it easy to spread, to breathe, and to grow. The second one planted the coffee sapling in the hole. Due to careful tending during the month that they had spent heeled in, the saplings had developed to a thriving state; the hairs on their roots were snow-white, tender, and profuse. Finally, the last worker in the team of three would have cut some guan grass – or mountain palm leaves would do – and now they constructed a simple frame out of three or more small branches and draped the grass or leaves over it as shelter for the coffee. You had to drape it carefully, in order to provide shade but also allow ventilation – that was the ideal.
Before the autumn rains came, the farm planned to hurry to plant another fifty thousand coffee plants. Once the rains started they wouldn’t be able to do a thing, so you couldn’t just stand and watch – you needed to put some effort into the planting.
Everyone in this gang of farmhands – whether planting, digging, or framing-up – everyone knew the nature and scope of the task that had been allocated to them; and everyone went about it nimbly and quickly. It was as if each of them was a smart, well-trained sailor on a ship. Through their disciplined, organised cooperation and division of labour, the ship sailed smoothly along.
However, at the same time, they were young, and cheerful, and brimming with vigour, so that – like springs – they could never be at peace, even for a moment.
Even if there were a very few of them of more advanced years, these too had once been young, so that their best-kept, most cherished memories were enough to allow them to fuse as one with the youngsters.
They were happy in their work, and so it progressed quickly. All the workers chatted and laughed, some sang hill songs. The hill songs in particular could make you forget your tiredness. Moreover, if you happened to be in love, then there was all the more reason to sing a song or two. There was nothing in this world better than a hill song to show off your charms to the one you love.
“A-Kang. Give us a song!”
Everyone knew that A-Kang had plenty of good hill songs. But A-Kang wouldn’t sing.
“Shouru, you give us one!”
And everybody had heard Shouru’s voice – there was none finer.
But Shouru only smiled. He was in the middle of using three acacia branches to form a tripod on which to drape guan grass.
“Hongmei, tell Shouru to give us a song!”
Hongmei was Shouru’s sweetheart, something else that everybody knew. Hongmei had just finished planting a coffee sapling, and was stretching her back and limbs.
From under the brim of her bamboo hat, she cast Shouru a coquettish smile. They were working in the same team of three.
“Hah! I never clamped his bloody mouth shut!” said Hongmei, really putting it on. “Who the hell cares if that guy sings or not!”
Waah-hahaha – there was a wave of riotous laughter.
“Shouru, your bride has given her permission, surely you’ll sing now?”
But now Shouru was even more embarrassed to sing.
However, youthful lives are like floods that cannot immediately be curtailed. A joyous, melodious hill song now flowed forth from a pair of lips that no one had ever paid attention to before:
Little sister amply round,
Like the full moon, just as bright,
Brother’s like a little star,
With her till dawn, every night.
“Great! Guihe, you’re really something!”
Cries of appreciation reverberated through the whole valley. Now that Guihe had led the way, a light infectious stir swept like a wave across the whole body of workers.
Now A-Kang could resist no longer. In response to Guihe’s verse, the sound of his deep, broad vocal cords echoed resonantly through the valley.
Bamboo Hat Hill Temple’s gods are renowned,
So that’s where I went to ask the holiest one:
“At Bamboo Hat everyone is paired off together,
“Why oh why am I the only one who sleeps alone?”
“Aiya! A-Kang!” yelled a male hand, a guy with a big face. “Do you still sleep alone?
Oh you poor, poor thing!” Then he turned to the woman beside him: “Here we are! Xiuchun, please take pity on A-Kang. He’s still sleeping alone!”
Xiuchun made a spitting noise and retorted:
“Why don’t you get your little sister to keep him company? A-Kang’s after your little sister!”
At this, the company again broke out in great peals of laughter.
But suddenly, Guihe called out for everyone to be quiet: “There’s someone singing over there,” he said. And so they all held their breath and pricked up their ears.
Bamboo Hat’s gods may be renowned,
But why ask Guanyin why you’re alone?
It’s because of their virtue, in a past life,
That Bamboo Hat folk are paired one on one.
Oh! This time it was a woman’s voice! But what took everyone by surprise was not that it was a woman singing, but the fact that her hill song was of the “challenge” type. It was very obvious that she intended to have a sing-off with A-Kang.
“Who’s that?” They all just looked at one another.
“It’s coming from the charcoal kilns!”
When this was pointed out everyone realised it was true: from not far over to the north, by Number Four Charcoal Kiln, voices and the sounds of wood being thrown about could be faintly heard.
They listened in silence to the song, and when she had finished there was an even greater commotion and uproar than before. Everyone was overcome with excitement and high spirits.
“A-Kang, sing her a reply! If you give in, you’re a wimp!”
“That’s right! You gotta beat her!”
“Yeah! Beat her, A-Kang! If you’re scared of her you’re the son of a whore!”
Suddenly, all around were inciting and encouraging A-Kang.
“Brother Zhiping, who’s working over at the charcoal kilns?” Liang Yanmei asked Liu Zhiping, who was standing nearby.
Zhiping was working in a team with Shuhua and Qiongmei; Yanmei, Rao Fuquan, and another woman formed the neighbouring team. Yanmei and Zhiping were both doing the planting.
It was Fuquan who replied to Yanmei’s question:
“Sulan and a few other girls are weaving straw sacks.”
“That’s right!” said Yanmei. “That’s Sulan, and no mistake! That girl sure can sing!”
“She’s a beautiful voice, right enough,” said Zhiping. “And she’s no slouch with her lyrics, either.”
“Sulan’s famous for her clever songs. When she challenges someone to a sing-off she usually comes out on top.”
“I only knew she was a good worker. I had no idea she was such a good hill-singer.”
And then came A-Kang’s response:
Bamboo Hat may have no flowers, other places will,
Bamboo Hat may have no girls, but I can go elsewhere.
If Bamboo Hat can’t make me a match, I’ll get a match elsewhere,
Little Sister, there’s no need to be alone, don’t despair!
Immediately, a response came from the charcoal kilns:
Bamboo Hat has flowers, O! blushing red in colour,
Bamboo Hat has girls, O! and they can take their pick.
The big of heart may pick a flower,
The small of heart in mud shall stick.
“Great lyrics! They make a good pair!” Zhiping’s praise was sincere.
“Planting coffee up here is much more fun than working on the road,” said Yanmei.
“It’s terribly boring over there – it’s as if they all have boils on their mouths so that none of them can even speak. If I’d had to work another few days on the road I would surely have fallen sick from boredom.”
For the last few days Yanmei had been assigned to the road gang. Only today had she been transferred to a coffee planting team.
“So why aren’t you singing hill songs, then?” asked Zhiping. “You haven’t any boils in your mouth, have you?”
“Brother Zhiping,” said Yanmei. “If you’re not careful you might put a jinx on me. And anyway, I don’t have any hill songs to sing.”
“Well why don’t I teach you one?”
“Who’d care for one of yours?” replied Yanmei with a pout.
“You’d care, that’s who.”
“No, I wouldn’t!”
“My hill songs are really very good, you know. It’d be a great pity if you don’t hear one.”
“What hill songs do you have?” After a pause, Yanmei changed her tune: “Why not have a go at one, then? I’m listening.”
“You see? You do care! You were just being obstinate.”
“I don’t care. I don’t!”
“Forget it, then. But they really are good….”
“Nothing good ever came out of a dog’s mouth!”
“Hey! There’s no need for cursing!”
“Well you mustn’t keep telling tall tales!”
“I wasn’t telling tall tales. All right, then. Just listen to this:
Climbing flowers in the garden cover the whole wall,
Some like red blooms, but it’s yellow I would have….
“There you go talking nonsense again!”
“Don’t interrupt. I’m not finished yet:
Everybody says that plum blossom is fine,
But when I eat a watermelon it’s the cool that I crave.
In Hakka Chinese, as in Mandarin, the word “cool” sounds exactly like Yanmei’s
surname, so this was a punning song. Yanmei spat in disgust, and at the same time
a rosy blush spread all the way from her eyes across her cheeks to her ears.
“Oh, come on!” said Shuhua, taking a rest from her work with the hoe. “You
should be happy that somebody “craves” you! Why do you have to put on such airs?”
A fresh wave of scarlet flashed across Yanmei’s face as she shouted and cursed:
“Sister Shuhua, if Heaven has ears, let It make you chew off your own rotten tongue!”
“You can’t mean to say Uncle Zhiping isn’t good enough for you! What are you like?! Oh yes, Uncle Zhiping, someone from Nanmei….”
“Tuah! Sister Shuhua, now you’re going too far!”
Yanmei spat, and almost jumped in the air as she angrily glared at Shuhua. But Shuhua paid her no attention and calmly went on with what she had to say.
“Uncle Zhiping, let me tell you: the day before yesterday someone from Nanmei came and….”
“Sister Shuhua, I’ll beat you to death!” threatened Yanmei, her eyes wider than ever in a glare.
“Why can’t I talk about it? It’s happy news, isn’t it?” Shuhua gave a mischievous smile, but said no more.
“Sister Yanmei, I beg you,” interjected Qiongmei earnestly. “Nanmei is a dreadful place. It’d be better to die than marry there!”
Yanmei picked up some dirt from the ground and threw it at Qiongmei.
“You devil! There you go gossiping as bad as Sister Shuhua!”
“You ungrateful piece of trash!”
Giggling, Qiongmei brushed the dirt off.
“You don’t know when someone has your best interests at heart….”
“I’ll give you best interests, you wretch!” Yanmei leapt bodily in the air.
But just then, A-Kang came out with another hill song:
Bamboo Hat may have no charcoal – plenty firewood, though,
Brother may be still alone, but he makes no ado.
The time will come when he will wed, not just one but two;
Both of them are bonnier than you, and both are s*xier too.
“A-Kang’s going all out!”
Zhiping stood and looked round at everyone. The whole hillside was covered with folk: voices and happy laughter filled the air. Even Fuquan, not much of a one for talking and laughing, was in high spirits. Guihe, whose planting team had reached the very middle of the hill, was having a great time: he kept goading and prodding A-Kang, who had already sung himself weary and hoarse.
“A-Kang,” roared Guihe, “if you lose to that wee lass we all lose face. Call yourself a man?”
“What an embarrassment for all of us men!” Fuquan chimed in.
And now came the response from the charcoal clamps:
Hill-song singing has its own etiquette,
Watch your mouth or you’ll come a cropper yet;
Bamboo Hat folk all know how to behave,
Little Sister’s “s*xy” but it’s not you she’ll have!
“Nanmei…,” Qiongmei looked at Yanmei with a smile. “I’m not talking about you! Nanmei is a dreadful place. Only the doomed go there.”
“But Qiongmei,” said Zhiping. “People still keep going there, don’t they?”
“You’re absolutely right!” said Qiongmei angrily. “And every year the number going just grows! But within a couple of years they’re sure to turn yellow and bloated. Half of them lose their lives in this way – if that’s not doomed I don’t know what is.”
“That’s because Nanmei has only been brought under cultivation in recent years. There’s still a lot of jungle vapours and malarial air, so it’s easy to get sick. The longer folk are settled there and get acclimatised, the less of a problem it will be.”
“As long as there’s a living to be made, people will keep going. That’s true of any place, even with the risk of going yellow and bloated,” said Fuquan. “Do you know another name folk have for Nanmei?”
“What name?” asked Qiongmei, doubtfully.
“They call it Pus Lake!”
“That’s just the right name for it! When you get that illness yellow liquid oozes out all over your body. It’s really scary! You hear that, Sister Yanmei?” asked Qiongmei with a smile. “Aren’t you afraid you’ll ooze that yellow stuff?”
“Tuah!” spat Yanmei.
“But Qiongmei,” said Zhiping. “You still have to go, don’t you?”
“Too right I have to go. If I didn’t have to go I wouldn’t need to be so scared of it, would I? Only yesterday they told me I have to go and w**d the banana groves. Darn it, I ain’t going!”
“Will it be all right if you don’t go?”
Qiongmei was silent for a moment, before saying desolately: “Damn it all to hell!”
Suddenly they heard a loud shout from someone standing nearby:
“Here comes the boss!”
Liu Shaoxing, a big sickle in one hand and a walking stick in the other, was coming toward them along the narrow path. Through his presbyopic spectacles, his eyes were fixed in their direction; the shimmering reflections on the lenses made them look like the eyes of a demon.
“Uncle Shaoxing.” When Zhiping’s father reached them, Yanmei beat all the rest to be the first to address him. “They’re doing nothing but sing songs!”
“Let them sing,” said Liu amiably. “When the singing is good, the work will also be well done.”
“Aiyo! The boss is here!”
Guihe called loudly from halfway up the hill, turning to face those below. His companions also stopped working and turned to look downhill.
“Boss…!”
“You’re all really putting your backs into the work!” Liu praised the planting
gang.
“So we should, for the sake of the farm,” said a little old man, Brother Changqing, quietly.
“Boss!” yelled Guihe from uphill. “We don’t mind helping the farm, but the farm had better give us something in return.”
“Fine! You’re all invited for a cup of coffee when it’s grown.”
“None of us have ever had coffee before, but we’re fond of a few cups of
grog.”
第七章
第一個人捏山鋤在前鋤開一坑土，坑，尺幾寬，六尺的間隔。坑土必須弄得碎碎的，鬆鬆的，才好使植物的根易于伸張，呼吸和生長。第二個人即把咖啡苗往坑裡種。苗由于一個多月假植期間的小心培育，發育得很是茁壯，根毛雪白，柔嫩而繁密。然後由最末那個人砍些菅草，山棕葉也行，先用三數支樹枝做骨架，這樣把咖啡包紮起來。你必須當心包紮，因為要能夠遮陽，同時又能通風，才算得是盡善盡美！
在秋雨之前，農場打算再趕種五萬株，到了雨季，就什麼都不能做了，因此你就不能光站住瞧，必須賣勁點種。一群工人，不問是種的，鋤的，包的，誰都不用管誰，誰都懂得分配給自己的工作的性質及範圍，誰都做得又俐落，又快捷。好像他們是一個船裡訓練有素的好船員，在他們有規律有組織的分工合作之下，船順利地進行起來。
然而同時，他們也是年輕的，快活的，飽滿充沛的精力，使他們發條似的一刻也安靜不下來。即算有三幾個年事大些的人，他們也有過年輕的時候，那麼他們那保存得最好最甜蜜的回憶，就足夠使他們和年輕人溶融在一起了。他們有說有笑，有人唱山歌，工作愉快，進行迅速。山歌，那是會叫你忘記疲勞的。不但如此，比方，你又還有個情人，那就更該唱支歌 了。這世間，就沒有什麼比山歌更能使你的情人感到魅力的了！
「阿康，唱支呀！」
大家都知道阿康有的是好山歌。
阿康不唱。
「壽如，還是你來吧！」
大家也都領教過壽如的聲音，那是再美沒有的。
壽如祇是笑了笑。他正在用三條相思樹枝，搭好三腳架，預備包紮。
「紅妹你叫壽如唱支吧！」
紅妹是壽如的情人，這又是大家都知道的。紅妹恰好種好一條咖啡，伸直身子。
她由笠陰下向壽如嬌媚地飛了一眼。——他們是共一個班子的。
「我又沒有鉗住他的嘴，」紅妹嬌聲嬌氣地說：「誰來管他死鬼唱不唱！」
哇——一陣哄然大笑。
「壽如，娘娘許可了，你還不唱呀？」
但是這樣一來，壽如是更不好意思唱了。
然而年輕的生命像洪水，一時也堵不住的。由別的，完全不為人所理會的嘴裡，愉快的山歌，悠揚地流了出來。
阿妹生來圓叮噹 ，
好比天上圓月亮，
阿哥好比小星子 ，
夜夜相隨到天光 。
「好哇——貴和，有你的——」
立刻，叫好的聲音，震動了山谷。由貴和開頭，於是一陣富有傳染性的輕快的蠢動，浪潮似的由這個角落，一直滾向那個角落。
阿康已沉不住氣，也在那邊接起來了，男性的深沉寬厚的聲帶，在山谷間引起沈宏的回音。
久聞笠山寺有靈，
笠山寺裡問觀音：
笠山人人有雙對，
何獨阿哥自家眠 ？
「啊呀，阿康，你還是自家眠麼？可憐呀，可憐！」一個大面龐的男工這樣嚷著，轉臉向身邊的女人：「有了！秀春，你可憐可憐阿康吧，他還是自家眠呢！」
「啐，你不好叫你妹子去陪伴他嗎，阿康是要你妹子的！」
哇——又是一陣轟天大笑。
突然，貴和叫大家別嚷。「那邊有人唱歌呢！」他說。
於是大家屏息凝聽。
雖然笠山寺有靈，
無雙何必問觀音？
笠山人人有雙對，
須是前生修到今！
哦，女人的聲音呢！大家不禁愕然。
但是他們所驚異的倒不是因為唱歌者是女人的關係，而是因為那山歌是挑戰性的；很顯然，對方有意和這邊對唱。
「誰呢？」一時大家面面相覷。
「炭窯那面唱的呢！」
有人這樣提醒大家。果然，在北邊隔不好遠的第四號炭窯地那面，人聲和擲木頭的聲浪，隱隱可聽。
大家靜聽了一會兒——於是譁然鼓譟起來。更大的激動，更大的昂奮，掃倒了人們。
「阿康，回她，輸了便不是漢子！」
「對！駁倒她！」
「駁倒她呀，阿康，怕她的才是婊子養的呢！」
煽動和激勵，一時由四面八方傳出。
「致平哥，誰在炭窯那邊做活？」
梁燕妹向身傍的劉致平問道。致平，淑華，瓊妹三人一班；燕妹，饒福全和另一個女工三人，又是一班。燕妹和致平同是種的。
「素蘭她們幾個人在織草袋。」饒福全代答。
「那就是了！」燕妹說：「這聲音正是素蘭的。這死細妹子 可唱得不錯呢！」
「倒是好口才，」致平說，「聲音也美！」
「素蘭的口才是出了名的，她和人駁山歌 ，總是贏的時候多。」
「從前我祇知道她做得好活，可不知道也唱得好歌。」
阿康山歌又起：
笠山無花別處有，
笠山無女別處求，
笠山無雙別處娶，
何需阿妹閑發愁！
炭窯再駁：
笠山有花紅羞羞，
笠山有女看人求：
大方阿哥求一個，
小氣阿哥水上流。
「好口才！兩人有比！」致平衷心稱讚。
「在這裡種咖啡，快活多了，」燕妹說：「開路那邊就悶死人，好像誰的嘴裡都長了一個大疔 ，開不了口。我要是再在那裡做幾天，一定要悶出病來的。」
她這數日被派在致遠手下開路，今天才調到這裡來。
「那你為什麼不唱山歌呢，」致平說：「你嘴裡又不長疔？」
「請你別隨便咒人，致平哥！」燕妹說：「我沒有山歌。」
「要不要我來教給你？」
「誰稀罕你的？」燕妹呶長了嘴唇皮。
「我知道你是稀罕的。」
「不稀罕！」
「好的很呢，你不聽，那是很可惜的。」
「什麼山歌？」停了一會兒，燕妹轉了嘴：「你試唸來我聽聽！」
「你看，還是要呢，偏是嘴硬！」
「不要，不要……」
「算了，當真是好的。」
「狗嘴裡是掏不出好東西來的！」
「別開口罵人！」
「可不許胡說！」
「不胡說。那你聽著：
園裡種花打滿牆，
人愛紅花我愛黃——
…………」
「又胡說了！」
「你別打岔，沒完呢：
人人都說張李好，
我吃西瓜但想涼。」
涼梁諧音，這是一首借音寓意的歌，梁燕妹啐了一口，同時一道紅潮，一直由眼頰紅到耳根。
「得了！」淑華歇了山鋤說道：「有人想，還不高興，一定要擺得天樣高的架子？」
梁燕妹又是一道紅潮泛過，一邊嚷罵：
「淑華姐，天有眼，嚼爛你的舌頭。」
「難道致平叔還不配愛你嗎？德行！是了，致平叔，南眉……」
「啐！淑華姐，越發胡說了。」
燕妹幾乎跳了起來，向淑華睜眼瞪視。但是淑華滿不在乎，仍舊不慌不忙的繼續說下去。
「致平叔，我告訴你，前天南眉有人來……」
「淑華姐，我揍死你！」
燕妹圓睜雙目，恫嚇地說。
「不許說麼，恭喜的事兒呢！」
淑華調皮地笑了笑，不說了。
「燕妹姐，」瓊妹插進口來做好做歹的說：「我勸你，南眉是個死地方，寧可死了，也別嫁去！」
燕妹由地上抓起一塊土，向瓊妹擲去。
「死東西，你也學淑華姐嚼舌！」
「你這不識好歹的賤貨，」瓊妹拂去身上的土，格格地好笑。「人家一片好心腸……」
「好你的死骨頭！」
燕妹跳了起來。
阿康的山歌：
笠山無炭有柴燒 ，
阿哥無雙心不焦，
到時一年娶兩個，
比你更美又更騷。
「阿康在拚命呢！」
致平立著朝大家看。山坡一面都是人，都是聲音，都是歡笑，就連不愛說笑的福全，也都興致勃勃。種到岡腹去的貴和，興頭十足，不住用激將法在鼓勵力竭聲嘶的阿康。
「阿康，」他喊著說，「你要是把一陣人的面子都輸給一個小娘兒們，你就不是人了。」
「那就把男子的面子都丟到大海裡去了。」福全也大聲附和起來。
炭窯之駁：
要唱山歌須端莊，
開口罵人笑四方：
笠山人人講規矩，
阿妹雖騷不愛郎！
「南眉——」瓊妹微笑地向燕妹看著，「我可不是說你呢！南眉，那是鬼地方，該死的人才到那裡去。」
「可是瓊妹，不是照樣有人要去嗎？」致平說。
「可不是有人要去，還一年多似一年呢！」瓊妹悻悻地說：「可也不消幾年，準是黃頭腫面的。有一半人就是這樣丟了性命，不是該死是什麼！」
「那是因為南眉是近年開發的新地方，瘴氣多，容易生病。住得久了，水土服了，就沒什麼了。」
「只要有飯吃，就有人去，不管什麼地方，也不管會不會黃頭腫面。」福全說。「你們知道人們還管它叫什麼嗎？」
「叫什麼？」瓊妹胡疑地問道。
「叫黃水湖！」
「那可叫得對！患了那種病，就通身流黃水，好不怕人！」
「燕妹，聽見了麼？」瓊妹笑對燕妹說。「你不怕流黃水？」
「啐！」
「你不是還得去嗎，瓊妹？」致平問道。
「可不是得去，不去還怕它？昨天還說就要鏟 芎蕉草呢。真討厭，我不打算去的。」
「不去行嗎？」
瓊妹默了一會兒，然後愁寂地說：
「討厭死了！」
忽然身傍什麼地方有人大聲嚷叫：
「頭家來了——」
在那條羊腸小徑上，劉少興一手執著大鎌刀，一手拄著一支小木棍，正向一群人走來。他的老花眼鏡，不住向這邊觀望，閃閃爍爍的恰如兩隻鬼眼。
「少興伯，」待劉少興走到身邊來時梁燕妹搶先開口：「他們淨唱歌 呢！」
「就讓他們唱吧，」劉少興和顏悅色地說：「歌唱得好，活兒也就做得好。」
「喔喲，頭家來了，頭家——」
岡腹上的貴和反身大喊。大家一齊停止活動，都回首往下看。
「大家很賣力呀！」少興向眾人招呼。
「我們給農場賣力是應該的。」一個小老頭兒長清哥靜靜地說。
「頭家，」貴和向坡下嚷道：「我們給農場幫忙，農場可得給我們好處。」
「行！等以後，我請大家喝咖啡。」
「咖啡，我們沒喝過，我們倒喜歡喝幾杯白酒。」
「那就更容易了。下午歇了工，就請大家到山寮裡去吃餐便飯。」
「謝謝頭家！」一個三四十歲的婦人，大家管她叫阿亮嫂的，接了過去：「頭家就單請貴和一個人好了，他是前世沒吃飽喝足的餓死鬼。」
「哎喲，阿亮嫂，阿彌陀佛，你罵得好兇呀！」貴和像一條挨了打的狗似的哀叫起來。
「少興哥，」小老頭兒的長清哥問道：「路開得怎麼樣了？幾時開得好呀？」
「還差一兩天工夫。拐彎多，大石多，真不容易。大概又還得補修一遍；他們都說牛車不好走呢。」
「那就得這樣做，少興哥，開成了，可是自己的路，多費一點工，值得的！」
「可不是！沒有路，就像自己短了一雙腳，做起事來總不方便。」劉少興轉臉向致平：「致平，聽說有人進山去了，也許是要打木棉的。你看看去吧。棉莢眼看就熟了，要什麼，我們也可以撈撈，工錢總是有的。帶手 吩咐張永祥晚上出來，我有事找他。」
「進山的人嗎？我倒知道：伯勞三呢！」和長清哥一班裡的一個年輕人說。
「伯勞三麼？」長清哥活像見了鬼。「那倒霉鬼！」
致平把自己的工作交代給一個女工，和淑華悄悄地說：「我回來跟你們一塊吃飯包。」
「快去快回來，我們等著你。」
「致平哥，」燕妹笑吟吟地說：「你不怕他們把你吊起來嗎？」
「少興哥，」小老頭兒又開了口，「你這咖啡苗好壯旺呀，管保是種一棵，活一棵的。」
「那就要靠大家的福氣了。」
「能的！」老頭兒固執地說：「從前我爹說過，這笠山不比傍的山，連石頭也都有肥分的。」
「哦！」
「我爹又說，」長清哥繼續說下去：「從前他們逃日軍時，逃到別的地方去的人都被搜查出來，單有逃進笠山來躲的一批人保了安全。笠山每天牽起很厚很厚的白霧，讓日本軍看不見什麼。我爹說，笠山是有靈氣的。」
「有這等事麼？」劉少興滿面春風，「這我倒沒有聽說過。」
「這是不會錯的，老一輩的人都這樣說！」
「可是長清哥，日本上陸時你也應該有十幾歲了吧？」
「十幾歲做得什麼？」長清哥並不否認，「就只會逮蜻蜓不是？」
致平由炭窯下邊經過。低矮地覆蓋在地面上的窯寮裡，塞滿了又潮又重的黑煙。這煙，像要逃避窯寮的窒悶，由四周的寮簷，困難地掙扎爬出。水珠不住由寮簷的草尖滴落。煙的辣味，漬透了周圍的草樹。
有兩個男子，在那向剪截砍倒的相思樹。這些樹，彷彿戰場上的遺屍，滿處狼籍地仆倒著。在窯背繁密的樹陰下，三個年輕女人在編織著裝木炭用的草袋。由這裡， 就可以看見在她們頭上，八隻纏好草索的織錘，恍如江湖上擊劍者所玩弄的飛刀，飛來飛去，此起彼落。
「素蘭，」致平向窯背探頭——
「還是你們三個人麼？」
「嗯！」素蘭歇手向下路看。
「致平哥，巡山呀？」
「素蘭，你唱得好山歌呀——」
致平說著，慢慢地走過。走不多遠，拐個小彎，便有一條淺河。河又短又小，曲曲折折。像這樣的小河，這去是有幾條的。河與河之間的山坡，即是那些租地——更小的農場。前頭的租地是趙丙基的。那裡一片靜穆，祇有樹影，閑寂和寥落。致平向那裡望了望。
三處租地，就以此處樹木砍得最光，運得最淨 。十里地面，東一塊，西一塊，七零八落的種了一些咖啡。這些咖啡，包紮潦草，歪歪斜斜，就如無人管理一樣。還剩下更多的地面，彷彿光棍向著風雨和貧窮露著脊樑，完全聽任荒蕪。
路上面的茅寮裡，有女人叱罵孩子的火辣聲。致平朝茅寮看了一眼，便走過去了。
再去，又一個淺河與淺河之間——是葉阿鳳的租地。然後是張永祥的……。
