Всего за 400 руб. Купить полную версию
But youve only got three cartridges, Henry objected.
Ill wait for a dead sure shot, was the reply.
In the morning Henry renewed the fire and cooked breakfast to the accompaniment of his partners snoring.
You was sleepin jes too comfortable for anything, Henry told him, as he routed him out for breakfast. I hadnt the heart to rouse you[17].
Bill began to eat sleepily. He noticed that his cup was empty and started to reach for the pot. But the pot was beyond arms length and beside Henry.
Say, Henry, he chided gently, aint you forgot somethin?
Henry looked about with great carefulness and shook his head. Bill held up the empty cup.
You dont get no coffee, Henry announced.
Aint run out? Bill asked anxiously.
Nope.
Aint thinkin itll hurt my digestion?
Nope.
A flush of angry blood pervaded Bills face.
Then its jes warm an anxious I am to be hearin you explain yourself, he said.
Spankers gone, Henry answered.
Without haste, with the air of one resigned to misfortune[18] Bill turned his head, and from where he sat counted the dogs.
Howd it happen? he asked apathetically.
Henry shrugged his shoulders. Dont know. Unless One Ear gnawed m loose. He couldnt a-done it himself, thats sure.
The darned cuss. Bill spoke gravely and slowly, with no hint of the anger that was raging within. Jes because he couldnt chew himself loose, he chews Spanker loose.
Well, Spankers troubles is over anyway; I guess hes digested by this time an cavortin over the landscape in the bellies of twenty different wolves, was Henrys epitaph on this, the latest lost dog. Have some coffee, Bill.
But Bill shook his head.
Go on, Henry pleaded, elevating the pot.
Bill shoved his cup aside. Ill be ding-dong-danged[19] if I do. I said I wouldnt if any dog turned up missin, an I wont.
Its darn good coffee, Henry said enticingly.
But Bill was stubborn, and he ate a dry breakfast washed down with mumbled curses at One Ear for the trick he had played.
Ill tie em up out of reach of each other to-night,
Bill said, as they took the trail.
They had travelled little more than a hundred yards, when Henry, who was in front, bent down and picked up something with which his snowshoe had collided. It was dark, and he could not see it, but he recognised it by the touch. He flung it back, so that it struck the sled and bounced along until it fetched up on Bills snowshoes.
Mebbe youll need that in your business, Henry said.
Bill uttered an exclamation. It was all that was left of Spanker the stick with which he had been tied.
They ate m hide an all, Bill announced. The sticks as clean as a whistle. Theyve ate the leather of-fen both ends. Theyre damn hungry, Henry, an theyll have you an me[20] guessin before this trips over.
Henry laughed defiantly. I aint been trailed this way by wolves before, but Ive gone through a whole lot worse an kept my health. Takes moren a handful of them pesky critters to do for yours truly, Bill, my son.
I dont know, I dont know, Bill muttered ominously.
Well, youll know all right when we pull into McGurry.
I aint feelin special enthusiastic, Bill persisted.
Youre off colour[21], thats whats the matter with you, Henry dogmatised. What you need is quinine, an Im goin to dose you up stiff as soon as we make McGurry.
Bill grunted his disagreement with the diagnosis, and lapsed into silence. The day was like all the days. Light came at nine oclock. At twelve oclock the southern horizon was warmed by the unseen sun; and then began the cold grey of afternoon that would merge, three hours later, into night.
It was just after the suns futile effort to appear, that Bill slipped the rifle from under the sled-lashings and said:
You keep right on, Henry, Im goin to see what I can see.
Youd better stick by the sled[22], his partner protested. Youve only got three cartridges, an theres no tellin what might happen.
Whos croaking now? Bill demanded triumphantly.
Henry made no reply, and plodded on alone, though often he cast anxious glances back into the grey solitude where his partner had disappeared. An hour later, taking advantage of the cut-offs[23] around which the sled had to go, Bill arrived.
Theyre scattered an rangin along wide, he said: keeping up with us an lookin for game at the same time. You see, theyre sure of us, only they know theyve got to wait to get us. In the meantime theyre willin to pick up anything eatable that comes handy.
You mean they think theyre sure of us[24], Henry objected pointedly.
But Bill ignored him. I seen some of them. Theyre pretty thin. They aint had a bite in weeks I reckon, outside of Fatty an Frog an Spanker; an theres so many of em that that didnt go far. Theyre remarkable thin. Their ribs is like wash-boards, an their stomachs is right up against their backbones. Theyre pretty desperate, I can tell you. Theyll be goin mad, yet, an then watch out.
A few minutes later, Henry, who was now travelling behind the sled, emitted a low, warning whistle. Bill turned and looked, then quietly stopped the dogs. To the rear, from around the last bend and plainly into view, on the very trail they had just covered, trotted a furry, slinking form. Its nose was to the trail, and it trotted with a peculiar, sliding, effortless gait. When they halted, it halted, throwing up its head and regarding them steadily with nostrils that twitched as it caught and studied the scent of them.
Its the she-wolf, Bill answered.
The dogs had lain down in the snow, and he walked past them to join his partner in the sled. Together they watched the strange animal that had pursued them for days and that had already accomplished the destruction of half their dog-team.
After a searching scrutiny, the animal trotted forward a few steps. This it repeated several times, till it was a short hundred yards away. It paused, head up, close by a clump of spruce trees, and with sight and scent studied the outfit of the watching men. It looked at them in a strangely wistful way, after the manner of a dog; but in its wistfulness there was none of the dog affection. It was a wistfulness bred of hunger, as cruel as its own fangs, as merciless as the frost itself.
It was large for a wolf, its gaunt frame advertising the lines of an animal that was among the largest of its kind.
Stands pretty close to two feet an a half at the shoulders, Henry commented. An Ill bet it aint far from five feet long.
Kind of strange colour for a wolf, was Bills criticism. I never seen a red wolf before. Looks almost cinnamon to me.
The animal was certainly not cinnamon-coloured. Its coat was the true wolf-coat. The dominant colour was grey, and yet there was to it a faint reddish hue a hue that was baffling, that appeared and disappeared, that was more like an illusion of the vision, now grey, distinctly grey, and again giving hints and glints of a vague redness of colour not classifiable in terms of ordinary experience.