-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Джек Лондон
-
- До Адама
-
- Стр. 44/53
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
I
looked
back
.
Old
Marrow
-
Bone
,
deserted
and
far
behind
,
was
tottering
silently
along
in
his
handicapped
race
with
death
.
Sometimes
he
almost
fell
,
and
once
he
did
fall
;
but
no
more
arrows
were
coming
.
He
scrambled
weakly
to
his
feet
.
Age
burdened
him
heavily
,
but
he
did
not
want
to
die
.
The
three
Fire
-
Men
,
who
were
now
running
forward
from
their
forest
ambush
,
could
easily
have
got
him
,
but
they
did
not
try
.
Perhaps
he
was
too
old
and
tough
.
But
they
did
want
the
Hairless
One
and
my
sister
,
for
as
I
looked
back
from
the
trees
I
could
see
the
Fire
-
Men
beating
in
their
heads
with
rocks
.
One
of
the
Fire
-
Men
was
the
wizened
old
hunter
who
limped
.
We
went
on
through
the
trees
toward
the
caves
—
an
excited
and
disorderly
mob
that
drove
before
it
to
their
holes
all
the
small
life
of
the
forest
,
and
that
set
the
blue
-
jays
screaming
impudently
.
Now
that
there
was
no
immediate
danger
,
Long
-
Lip
waited
for
his
grand
-
father
,
Marrow
-
Bone
;
and
with
the
gap
of
a
generation
between
them
,
the
old
fellow
and
the
youth
brought
up
our
rear
.
And
so
it
was
that
Lop
-
Ear
became
a
bachelor
once
more
.
That
night
I
slept
with
him
in
the
old
cave
,
and
our
old
life
of
chumming
began
again
.
The
loss
of
his
mate
seemed
to
cause
him
no
grief
.
At
least
he
showed
no
signs
of
it
,
nor
of
need
for
her
.
It
was
the
wound
in
his
leg
that
seemed
to
bother
him
,
and
it
was
all
of
a
week
before
he
got
back
again
to
his
old
spryness
.
Marrow
-
Bone
was
the
only
old
member
in
the
horde
.
Sometimes
,
on
looking
back
upon
him
,
when
the
vision
of
him
is
most
clear
,
I
note
a
striking
resemblance
between
him
and
the
father
of
my
father
’
s
gardener
.
The
gardener
’
s
father
was
very
old
,
very
wrinkled
and
withered
;
and
for
all
the
world
,
when
he
peered
through
his
tiny
,
bleary
eyes
and
mumbled
with
his
toothless
gums
,
he
looked
and
acted
like
old
Marrow
-
Bone
.
This
resemblance
,
as
a
child
,
used
to
frighten
me
.
I
always
ran
when
I
saw
the
old
man
tottering
along
on
his
two
canes
.
Old
Marrow
-
Bone
even
had
a
bit
of
sparse
and
straggly
white
beard
that
seemed
identical
with
the
whiskers
of
the
old
man
.
As
I
have
said
,
Marrow
-
Bone
was
the
only
old
member
of
the
horde
.
He
was
an
exception
.
The
Folk
never
lived
to
old
age
.
Middle
age
was
fairly
rare
.
Death
by
violence
was
the
common
way
of
death
.
They
died
as
my
father
had
died
,
as
Broken
-
Tooth
had
died
,
as
my
sister
and
the
Hairless
One
had
just
died
—
abruptly
and
brutally
,
in
the
full
possession
of
their
faculties
,
in
the
full
swing
and
rush
of
life
.
Natural
death
?
To
die
violently
was
the
natural
way
of
dying
in
those
days
.
No
one
died
of
old
age
among
the
Folk
.
I
never
knew
of
a
case
.
Even
Marrow
-
Bone
did
not
die
that
way
,
and
he
was
the
only
one
in
my
generation
who
had
the
chance
.
A
bad
rippling
,
any
serious
accidental
or
temporary
impairment
of
the
faculties
,
meant
swift
death
.
As
a
rule
,
these
deaths
were
not
witnessed
.
Members
of
the
horde
simply
dropped
out
of
sight
.
They
left
the
caves
in
the
morning
,
and
they
never
came
back
.
They
disappeared
—
into
the
ravenous
maws
of
the
hunting
creatures
.
This
inroad
of
the
Fire
People
on
the
carrot
-
patch
was
the
beginning
of
the
end
,
though
we
did
not
know
it
.
The
hunters
of
the
Fire
People
began
to
appear
more
frequently
as
the
time
went
by
.
They
came
in
twos
and
threes
,
creeping
silently
through
the
forest
,
with
their
flying
arrows
able
to
annihilate
distance
and
bring
down
prey
from
the
top
of
the
loftiest
tree
without
themselves
climbing
into
it