Tomas crossed the river bridge every morning on his way to school. On the downstream side, bolted to a concrete pillar, was a metal gauge painted in red and white stripes, with numbers that told you how high the water had risen. He had looked at it so often that he knew its shape the way he knew his own handwriting.
托马斯每天早晨过河去上学。在下游一侧，一根水泥柱上栓着一把红白条纹的水位尺，上面的数字告诉你水涨了多高。他看过太多次，熟悉它的形状，就像熟悉自己的笔迹。
In late August he noticed that the number had not changed for eleven days, even after a night of heavy rain. The water had climbed the pillar, but the little pointer stayed where it was. He leaned over the railing and saw that the bracket had rusted through and the pointer was hanging by a single screw.
八月下旬，他注意到那个数字已经十一天没变，即使下了一整夜大雨。水已经爬上了柱子，可小指针停在原处。他探身越过栏杆，看见支架已经锈穿，指针只靠一颗螺丝挂着。
He told his father at dinner. His father said the town had bigger problems and that someone would fix it. Tomas waited a week. Nobody came. The river kept rising and falling, and the gauge kept telling the same calm lie.
晚饭时他告诉了父亲。父亲说镇上有更大的问题，会有人修的。托马斯等了一周。没有人来。河水继续涨落，水位尺继续说着同样平静的谎。
He wrote an email to the town office and received a reply that thanked him for his interest. He printed it and showed it to his science teacher, who said the gauge was probably the water authority's responsibility. He called the water authority and was told to call the town office.
他给镇办公室写了邮件，收到的回复感谢他的关心。他打印出来给科学老师看，老师说水位尺大概归水务部门管。他打电话给水务部门，对方让他打给镇办公室。
At the shop counter, he explained the problem to Mr. Bevan, who taught woodwork and had a quiet way of taking students seriously. Mr. Bevan listened, then asked how high the water had reached during the last big flood. Tomas did not know. Nobody had written it down anywhere he could find.
在木工台前，他向贝文先生解释了这个问题。贝文先生教木工，有一种认真对待学生的安静方式。他听完，问上次大洪水时水涨到了多高。托马斯不知道。他找不到任何地方记录过这件事。
The forecast on Thursday mentioned three days of rain. Tomas stood on the bridge after school and watched the water move against the pillar, and for the first time he felt not annoyed but frightened. A gauge that lies is worse than no gauge at all, because people trust it.
星期四的天气预报说会下三天雨。放学后托马斯站在桥上，看着河水撞向柱子，第一次感到的不是恼火，而是害怕。一把说谎的尺比没有尺更糟，因为人们相信它。
Mr. Bevan gave him a strip of marine plywood, a pot of white paint, and an hour after school. They measured from the bridge deck down, marked every ten centimetres, and painted the numbers thick enough to read from the bank. Tomas carried it to the pillar in a wheelbarrow and fixed it with four long screws.
贝文先生给了他一条船用胶合板、一桶白漆和放学后的一小时。他们从桥面往下量，每十厘米做一个记号，把数字刷得足够粗，从岸上也能看清。托马斯用手推车把它运到柱子旁，用四颗长螺丝固定。
Rain came on Saturday. The river covered the lower marks by evening, and by Sunday it had reached the third stripe, higher than anyone under forty had seen. Because the marks were clear, people photographed them and sent the pictures to neighbours. The town office called on Monday, not to thank him but to ask who made it.
星期六，雨来了。到傍晚河水淹没了下面的刻度，到星期天已经涨到第三条线，比四十岁以下的人见过的都高。因为刻度清楚，人们拍下刻度，把照片发给邻居。星期一镇办公室打来电话，不是道谢，而是问是谁做的。
By the next spring there were gauges at three bridges, all painted the same way, and a group of students checked them every Friday. Tomas still crossed the bridge on his way to school. He no longer needed to lean over the railing. He could read the river from the pavement, and the river, for once, was telling the truth.
到第二年春天，三座桥上都有了水位尺，全都刷成同样的样子，一群学生每周五去检查。托马斯仍然每天过桥上学。他不再需要探身越过栏杆。他可以在人行道上读懂这条河，而这条河，这一次，说了真话。