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- Джек Лондон
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- До Адама
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- Стр. 26/53
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As
well
as
I
can
estimate
,
I
must
have
had
him
over
a
week
.
And
then
,
coming
back
to
the
cave
one
day
with
a
nestful
of
young
-
hatched
pheasants
,
I
found
Lop
-
Ear
had
killed
the
puppy
and
was
just
beginning
to
eat
him
.
I
sprang
for
Lop
-
Ear
,
—
the
cave
was
small
,
—
and
we
went
at
it
tooth
and
nail
.
And
thus
,
in
a
fight
,
ended
one
of
the
earliest
attempts
to
domesticate
the
dog
.
We
pulled
hair
out
in
handfuls
,
and
scratched
and
bit
and
gouged
.
Then
we
sulked
and
made
up
.
After
that
we
ate
the
puppy
.
Raw
?
Yes
.
We
had
not
yet
discovered
fire
.
Our
evolution
into
cooking
animals
lay
in
the
tight
-
rolled
scroll
of
the
future
.
Red
-
Eye
was
an
atavism
.
He
was
the
great
discordant
element
in
our
horde
.
He
was
more
primitive
than
any
of
us
.
He
did
not
belong
with
us
,
yet
we
were
still
so
primitive
ourselves
that
we
were
incapable
of
a
cooperative
effort
strong
enough
to
kill
him
or
cast
him
out
.
Rude
as
was
our
social
organization
,
he
was
,
nevertheless
,
too
rude
to
live
in
it
.
He
tended
always
to
destroy
the
horde
by
his
unsocial
acts
.
He
was
really
a
reversion
to
an
earlier
type
,
and
his
place
was
with
the
Tree
People
rather
than
with
us
who
were
in
the
process
of
becoming
men
.
He
was
a
monster
of
cruelty
,
which
is
saying
a
great
deal
in
that
day
.
He
beat
his
wives
—
not
that
he
ever
had
more
than
one
wife
at
a
time
,
but
that
he
was
married
many
times
.
It
was
impossible
for
any
woman
to
live
with
him
,
and
yet
they
did
live
with
him
,
out
of
compulsion
.
There
was
no
gainsaying
him
.
No
man
was
strong
enough
to
stand
against
him
.
Often
do
I
have
visions
of
the
quiet
hour
before
the
twilight
.
From
drinking
-
place
and
carrot
patch
and
berry
swamp
the
Folk
are
trooping
into
the
open
space
before
the
caves
.
They
dare
linger
no
later
than
this
,
for
the
dreadful
darkness
is
approaching
,
in
which
the
world
is
given
over
to
the
carnage
of
the
hunting
animals
,
while
the
fore
-
runners
of
man
hide
tremblingly
in
their
holes
.
There
yet
remain
to
us
a
few
minutes
before
we
climb
to
our
caves
.
We
are
tired
from
the
play
of
the
day
,
and
the
sounds
we
make
are
subdued
.
Even
the
cubs
,
still
greedy
for
fun
and
antics
,
play
with
restraint
.
The
wind
from
the
sea
has
died
down
,
and
the
shadows
are
lengthening
with
the
last
of
the
sun
’
s
descent
.
And
then
,
suddenly
,
from
Red
-
Eye
’
s
cave
,
breaks
a
wild
screaming
and
the
sound
of
blows
.
He
is
beating
his
wife
.
At
first
an
awed
silence
comes
upon
us
.
But
as
the
blows
and
screams
continue
we
break
out
into
an
insane
gibbering
of
helpless
rage
.
It
is
plain
that
the
men
resent
Red
-
Eye
’
s
actions
,
but
they
are
too
afraid
of
him
.
The
blows
cease
,
and
a
low
groaning
dies
away
,
while
we
chatter
among
ourselves
and
the
sad
twilight
creeps
upon
us
.
We
,
to
whom
most
happenings
were
jokes
,
never
laughed
during
Red
-
Eye
’
s
wife
-
beatings
.
We
knew
too
well
the
tragedy
of
them
.
On
more
than
one
morning
,
at
the
base
of
the
cliff
,
did
we
find
the
body
of
his
latest
wife
.
He
had
tossed
her
there
,
after
she
had
died
,
from
his
cave
-
mouth
.
He
never
buried
his
dead
.
The
task
of
carrying
away
the
bodies
,
that
else
would
have
polluted
our
abiding
-
place
,
he
left
to
the
horde
.
We
usually
flung
them
into
the
river
below
the
last
drinking
-
place
.
