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- Джек Лондон
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- До Адама
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Morning
found
us
wretched
and
resolved
.
We
would
not
spend
another
such
night
.
Remembering
the
tree
-
shelters
of
our
elders
,
we
set
to
work
to
make
one
for
ourselves
.
We
built
the
framework
of
a
rough
nest
,
and
on
higher
forks
overhead
even
got
in
several
ridge
-
poles
for
the
roof
.
Then
the
sun
came
out
,
and
under
its
benign
influence
we
forgot
the
hardships
of
the
night
and
went
off
in
search
of
breakfast
.
After
that
,
to
show
the
inconsequentiality
of
life
in
those
days
,
we
fell
to
playing
.
It
must
have
taken
us
all
of
a
month
,
working
intermittently
,
to
make
our
tree
-
house
;
and
then
,
when
it
was
completed
,
we
never
used
it
again
.
But
I
run
ahead
of
my
story
.
When
we
fell
to
playing
,
after
breakfast
,
on
the
second
day
away
from
the
caves
,
Lop
-
Ear
led
me
a
chase
through
the
trees
and
down
to
the
river
.
We
came
out
upon
it
where
a
large
slough
entered
from
the
blueberry
swamp
.
The
mouth
of
this
slough
was
wide
,
while
the
slough
itself
was
practically
without
a
current
.
In
the
dead
water
,
just
inside
its
mouth
,
lay
a
tangled
mass
of
tree
trunks
.
Some
of
these
,
what
of
the
wear
and
tear
of
freshets
and
of
being
stranded
long
summers
on
sand
-
bars
,
were
seasoned
and
dry
and
without
branches
.
They
floated
high
in
the
water
,
and
bobbed
up
and
down
or
rolled
over
when
we
put
our
weight
upon
them
.
Here
and
there
between
the
trunks
were
water
-
cracks
,
and
through
them
we
could
see
schools
of
small
fish
,
like
minnows
,
darting
back
and
forth
.
Lop
-
Ear
and
I
became
fishermen
at
once
.
Lying
flat
on
the
logs
,
keeping
perfectly
quiet
,
waiting
till
the
minnows
came
close
,
we
would
make
swift
passes
with
our
hands
.
Our
prizes
we
ate
on
the
spot
,
wriggling
and
moist
.
We
did
not
notice
the
lack
of
salt
.
The
mouth
of
the
slough
became
our
favorite
playground
.
Here
we
spent
many
hours
each
day
,
catching
fish
and
playing
on
the
logs
,
and
here
,
one
day
,
we
learned
our
first
lessons
in
navigation
.
The
log
on
which
Lop
-
Ear
was
lying
got
adrift
.
He
was
curled
up
on
his
side
,
asleep
.
A
light
fan
of
air
slowly
drifted
the
log
away
from
the
shore
,
and
when
I
noticed
his
predicament
the
distance
was
already
too
great
for
him
to
leap
.
At
first
the
episode
seemed
merely
funny
to
me
.
But
when
one
of
the
vagrant
impulses
of
fear
,
common
in
that
age
of
perpetual
insecurity
,
moved
within
me
,
I
was
struck
with
my
own
loneliness
.
I
was
made
suddenly
aware
of
Lop
-
Ear
’
s
remoteness
out
there
on
that
alien
element
a
few
feet
away
.
I
called
loudly
to
him
a
warning
cry
.
He
awoke
frightened
,
and
shifted
his
weight
rashly
on
the
log
.
It
turned
over
,
sousing
him
under
.
Three
times
again
it
soused
him
under
as
he
tried
to
climb
out
upon
it
.
Then
he
succeeded
,
crouching
upon
it
and
chattering
with
fear
.
I
could
do
nothing
.
Nor
could
he
.
Swimming
was
something
of
which
we
knew
nothing
.
We
were
already
too
far
removed
from
the
lower
life
-
forms
to
have
the
instinct
for
swimming
,
and
we
had
not
yet
become
sufficiently
man
-
like
to
undertake
it
as
the
working
out
of
a
problem
.
I
roamed
disconsolately
up
and
down
the
bank
,
keeping
as
close
to
him
in
his
involuntary
travels
as
I
could
,
while
he
wailed
and
cried
till
it
was
a
wonder
that
he
did
not
bring
down
upon
us
every
hunting
animal
within
a
mile
.
The
hours
passed
.
The
sun
climbed
overhead
and
began
its
descent
to
the
west
.
The
light
wind
died
down
and
left
Lop
-
Ear
on
his
log
floating
around
a
hundred
feet
away
.
And
then
,
somehow
,
I
know
not
how
,
Lop
-
Ear
made
the
great
discovery
.
He
began
paddling
with
his
hands
.
At
first
his
progress
was
slow
and
erratic
.
Then
he
straightened
out
and
began
laboriously
to
paddle
nearer
and
nearer
.
I
could
not
understand
.
I
sat
down
and
watched
and
waited
until
he
gained
the
shore
.
