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- Джек Лондон
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- До Адама
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- Стр. 8/53
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Her
arms
were
not
so
long
,
and
her
legs
were
stouter
.
She
wore
no
clothes
—
only
her
natural
hair
.
And
I
can
tell
you
she
was
a
fury
when
she
was
excited
.
And
like
a
fury
she
dashed
upon
the
scene
.
She
was
gritting
her
teeth
,
making
frightful
grimaces
,
snarling
,
uttering
sharp
and
continuous
cries
that
sounded
like
“
kh
-
ah
!
kh
-
ah
!
”
So
sudden
and
formidable
was
her
appearance
that
the
boar
involuntarily
bunched
himself
together
on
the
defensive
and
bristled
as
she
swerved
toward
him
.
Then
she
swerved
toward
me
.
She
had
quite
taken
the
breath
out
of
him
.
I
knew
just
what
to
do
in
that
moment
of
time
she
had
gained
.
I
leaped
to
meet
her
,
catching
her
about
the
waist
and
holding
on
hand
and
foot
—
yes
,
by
my
feet
;
I
could
hold
on
by
them
as
readily
as
by
my
hands
.
I
could
feel
in
my
tense
grip
the
pull
of
the
hair
as
her
skin
and
her
muscles
moved
beneath
with
her
efforts
.
As
I
say
,
I
leaped
to
meet
her
,
and
on
the
instant
she
leaped
straight
up
into
the
air
,
catching
an
overhanging
branch
with
her
hands
.
The
next
instant
,
with
clashing
tusks
,
the
boar
drove
past
underneath
.
He
had
recovered
from
his
surprise
and
sprung
forward
,
emitting
a
squeal
that
was
almost
a
trumpeting
.
At
any
rate
it
was
a
call
,
for
it
was
followed
by
the
rushing
of
bodies
through
the
ferns
and
brush
from
all
directions
.
From
every
side
wild
hogs
dashed
into
the
open
space
—
a
score
of
them
.
But
my
mother
swung
over
the
top
of
a
thick
limb
,
a
dozen
feet
from
the
ground
,
and
,
still
holding
on
to
her
,
we
perched
there
in
safety
.
She
was
very
excited
.
She
chattered
and
screamed
,
and
scolded
down
at
the
bristling
,
tooth
-
gnashing
circle
that
had
gathered
beneath
.
I
,
too
,
trembling
,
peered
down
at
the
angry
beasts
and
did
my
best
to
imitate
my
mother
’
s
cries
.
From
the
distance
came
similar
cries
,
only
pitched
deeper
,
into
a
sort
of
roaring
bass
.
These
grew
momentarily
louder
,
and
soon
I
saw
him
approaching
,
my
father
—
at
least
,
by
all
the
evidence
of
the
times
,
I
am
driven
to
conclude
that
he
was
my
father
.
He
was
not
an
extremely
prepossessing
father
,
as
fathers
go
.
He
seemed
half
man
,
and
half
ape
,
and
yet
not
ape
,
and
not
yet
man
.
I
fail
to
describe
him
.
There
is
nothing
like
him
to
-
day
on
the
earth
,
under
the
earth
,
nor
in
the
earth
.
He
was
a
large
man
in
his
day
,
and
he
must
have
weighed
all
of
a
hundred
and
thirty
pounds
.
His
face
was
broad
and
flat
,
and
the
eyebrows
over
-
hung
the
eyes
.
The
eyes
themselves
were
small
,
deep
-
set
,
and
close
together
.
He
had
practically
no
nose
at
all
.
It
was
squat
and
broad
,
apparently
with
-
out
any
bridge
,
while
the
nostrils
were
like
two
holes
in
the
face
,
opening
outward
instead
of
down
.
The
forehead
slanted
back
from
the
eyes
,
and
the
hair
began
right
at
the
eyes
and
ran
up
over
the
head
.
The
head
itself
was
preposterously
small
and
was
supported
on
an
equally
preposterous
,
thick
,
short
neck
.
There
was
an
elemental
economy
about
his
body
—
as
was
there
about
all
our
bodies
.
The
chest
was
deep
,
it
is
true
,
cavernously
deep
;
but
there
were
no
full
-
swelling
muscles
,
no
wide
-
spreading
shoulders
,
no
clean
-
limbed
straightness
,
no
generous
symmetry
of
outline
.
It
represented
strength
,
that
body
of
my
father
’
s
,
strength
without
beauty
;
ferocious
,
primordial
strength
,
made
to
clutch
and
gripe
and
rend
and
destroy
.
