挑    山    工   

 在    泰    山    上   , 随    处    都    可    以    碰    到    挑    山    工   。 他    们    肩    上    搭    一    根    光    溜    溜    的    扁    担   , 扁    担    两    头    的    绳    子    挂    着    沉    甸    甸    的    货    物   。 登    山    的    时    候   , 他    们    一    条    胳    膊    搭    在    扁    担    上   , 另    一    条    胳    膊    随    着    步    子    有    节    奏    地    一    甩    一    甩   , 使    身    体    保    持    平    衡   。 他    们    走    的    路    线    是    折    尺    形    的   , 从    台    阶    左    侧    起    步   , 斜    行    向    上   , 登    上    七    八    级   , 到    了    台    阶    右    侧   , 就    转    过    身    子   , 反    方    向    斜    行   , 到    了    左    侧    再    转    回    来   。 每    转    一    次    身   , 扁    担    换    一    次    肩   。 这    样    曲    折    向    上    登   , 才    能    使    挂    在    扁    担    前    头    的    东    西    不    碰    到    台    阶   , 还    可    以    省    些    力    气   。 担    了    重    物   , 如    果    照    一    般    登    山    的    人    那    样    直    往    上    走   , 膝    盖    会    受    不    住    的   。 但    是    路    线    曲    折   , 就    会    使    路    程    加    长   。 挑    山    工    登    山    走    的    路    程    大    约    比    游    人    多    一    倍   !
 奇    怪    的    是    挑    山    工    花    的    时    间    并    不    比    游    人    多   。 你    轻    快    地     从    他    们    身    边    走    过   , 以    为    把    他    们    远    远    地    甩    在    后    边    了   。 你    在   
 什    么    地    方    饱    览    壮    丽    的    山    色   , 或    者    在    道    边    诵    读    凿    在    石    壁    上    的    古    人    的    题    句   , 或    者    在    喧    闹    的    溪    流    边    洗    脸    洗    脚   , 他    们    已    经    不    声    不    响    地    从    你    身    旁    走    过   , 悄    悄    地    走    到    前    头    去    了   。 等    你    发    现   , 你    会    大    吃    一    惊   , 以    为    他    们    像    仙    人    那    样   , 是    腾    云    驾    雾    赶    上    来    的   
 有    一    次   ,  我    同    几    个    画    友    去    泰    山    写    生   ,  就    遇    到    过    这    种    情     况   。 我    们    在    山    下    买    登    山    用    的    青    竹    杖   , 遇    到    一    个    挑    山    工   , 矮     个    子   ,  脸    黑    生    生    的   ,  眉    毛    很    浓   ,  四    十    来    岁   ,  敞    开    的    白    土    布     褂    子    中    间    露    出    鲜    红    的    背    心   。 他    扁    担    一    头    拴    着    几    张    木    凳    子   ,  另    一    头    捆    着    五    六    个    青    皮    西    瓜   。 我    们    很    快    就    超    过    了    他   。 到    了     回    马    岭    那    条    陡    直    的    山    道    前   ,  我    们    累    了   ,  舒    展    身    子    躺    在    一    块     被    山    风    吹    得    干    干    净    净    的    大    石    头    上    歇    歇    脚   。 我    们    发    现    那    个    挑     山    工    就    坐    在    对    面    的    草    地    上    抽    烟   。 随    后   ,  我    们    跟    他    差    不    多    同     时    起    程   , 很    快    就    把    他    甩    在    后    边   , 直    到    看    不    见    他    了   。 等    到    爬     上    半    山    的    五    松    亭   ,  我    们    看    见    有    个    人    在    那    株    姿    态    奇    特    的    古    松     下    整    理    挑    子   ,  那    正    是    他   。 他    把    褂    子    脱    掉    了   ,  光    穿    着    红    背    心   ,  现    出    健    美    的    黑    黝    黝    的    肌    肉   。 我    很    惊    异   , 走    过    去    跟    他    攀    谈    起     来   。 这    位    山    民    倒    不    拘    束   , 挺    爱    说    话   。 他    告    诉    我   , 他    家    住    在     山    脚    下   ,  他    天    天    挑    货    上    山   ,  干    了    近    二    十    年    了   ,  一    年    四    季   ,  一    天    一    个    来    回   
 我    把    心    中    那    个    不    解    之    谜    说    了    出    来   : 我    看    你    们    走    得    很    慢   , 怎    么    反    而    常    常    跑    到    我    们    前    头    去    了    呢   ? 你    们    有    什    么    近    道    吗   ?
 他    听    了   , 黑    生    生    的    脸    上    显    出    一    丝    得    意    的    神    色   。 他    说   : 我    们    哪    里    有    近    道   , 还    不    是    和    你    们    走    的    同    一    条    道   ? 你    们    肩    膀    上    没    有    挑    子   , 是    走    得    快   , 可    是    一    路    上    东    看    西    看   , 玩    玩    闹    闹   , 总    得    停    下    来    嘛   ! 我    们    跟    你    们    不    一    样   , 不    像    你    们    那    么    随    便   , 高    兴    怎    么    就    怎    么   。 一    步    踩    不    实    不    行   , 更    不    能    耽    误    工    夫   。 我    们    得    一    个    劲    往    前    走   。 别    看    我    们    慢   , 走    长    了    就    跑    到    你    们    前    边    去    了   
 我    心    悦    诚    服    地    点    着    头   , 感    到    这    位    山    民    的    几    句    朴    素    的    话   , 似    乎    包    蕴    着    意    味    深    长    的    哲    理   。 没    等    我    细    细    体    味   , 他    担    起    挑    子    又    起    程    了   
 从    泰    山    回    来   , 我    画    了    一    幅    画   —— 在    陡    直    的    似    乎    没    有    尽    头    的    山    道    上   , 一    个    穿    红    背    心    的    挑    山    工    给    肩    头    的    重    物    压    弯    了    腰   , 他    一    步    一    步    地    向    上    攀    登   。 这    幅    画    一    直    挂    在    我    的    书    桌    前   , 因    为    我    需    要    它   
 泰     杖     敞     拘     蕴   

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