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He knelt, jammed the torch into the ground beside him.
他跪下来，将火把插进身旁的泥地。
The soil was loose, sandy. Jon pulled it out by the fistful.
土质松软而多沙，琼恩抓起一把，
There were no stones, no roots.
里面既没有石子，也没有根须。
Whatever was here had been put here recently.
不管这里埋了什么，必定为时不长。
Two feet down, his fingers touched cloth.
挖下两尺，指头有了衣物的触觉。
He had been expecting a corpse, fearing a corpse, but this was something else.
他认为是某具尸首，他恐怕是某具尸首，但这里……有别种的异样。
He pushed against the fabric and felt small, hard shapes beneath, unyielding.
他挤挤织物，觉出下面有某种细小、坚硬、不能弯曲的东西。
There was no smell, no sign of graveworms.
这里没有气味，更没有尸虫的迹象。
Ghost backed off and sat on his haunches, watching.
白灵往后退开，蹲下来，盯着他瞧。
Jon brushed the loose soil away to reveal a rounded bundle perhaps two feet across.
琼恩拨开松土，找到一个圆形的包裹，直径几乎有两尺。
He jammed his fingers down around the edges and worked it loose.
他将手指伸进土中，用力提出来，
When he pulled it free, whatever was inside shifted and clinked.
随着拖拽，里面发出叮当的响声。
Treasure, he thought, but the shapes were wrong to be coins, and the sound was wrong for metal.
莫非是财宝？他心想，但手上感觉不出钱币的形状，仔细一听声音也不是金属的发音。
A length of frayed rope bound the bundle together.
一捆磨旧的绳子紧紧绑着包裹。
Jon unsheathed his dagger and cut it, groped for the edges of the cloth, and pulled.
琼恩取出匕首，割断开来，摸索着把织物抖开。
The bundle turned, and its contents spilled out onto the ground, glittering dark and bright.
包裹翻了个滚，东西落了一地，闪着黑光。
He saw a dozen knives, leaf-shaped spearheads, numerous arrowheads.
他发现十几把小刀，大批树叶形状的矛尖，以及无数的箭头。
Jon picked up a dagger blade, featherlight and shiny black, hiltless.
琼恩拾起一把刀，它轻若鸿毛，闪着黑芒，无有握柄。
Torchlight ran along its edge, a thin orange line that spoke of razor sharpness.
火炬的辉光在刀锋上跃动，一轮橙色的细线描绘出锐利的锋刃。
Dragonglass. What the maesters call obsidian.
是龙晶。鲁温师傅称之为黑曜石的事物。
Had Ghost uncovered some ancient cache of the children of the forest, buried here for thousands of years?
难道说白灵找到了森林之子的古老窖室，埋藏于此数千年之久的遗物？
The Fist of the First Men was an old place, only...
先民拳峰是个古老的地方，可是……
Beneath the dragonglass was an old warhorn, made from an auroch's horn and banded in bronze.
龙晶之下还有一个年代久远的号角，牛角制成，边缘镶了青铜。
Jon shook the dirt from inside it, and a stream of arrowheads fell out.
琼恩拍去号角里里外外的尘土，一串箭头也跟着滑落。
He let them fall, and pulled up a corner of the cloth the weapons had been wrapped in, rubbing it between his fingers.
他任它们落下，随手扯起包裹的一角，用手指揉搓。
Good wool, thick, a double weave, damp but not rotted.
这是上好的羊毛，厚实，双层织工，虽然受了潮但并未腐朽。
It could not have been long in the ground.
它埋藏的时间不可能太久。
And it was dark.
手边昏黑一团，
He seized a handful and pulled it close to the torch.
琼恩牵起毛料，凑近火炬。
Not dark. Black.
不是昏黑，是漆黑。
Even before Jon stood and shook it out, he knew what he had: the black cloak of a Sworn Brother of the Night's Watch.
在起身呼喊之前，琼恩已经明白了他所发现的东西：这是誓言效命的守夜人兄弟的黑斗篷。
