-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Джек Лондон
-
- Костёр
-
- Стр. 4/7
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
But
he
was
safe
.
Toes
and
nose
and
cheeks
would
be
only
touched
by
the
frost
,
for
the
fire
was
beginning
to
burn
with
strength
.
He
was
feeding
it
with
twigs
the
size
of
his
finger
.
In
another
minute
he
would
be
able
to
feed
it
with
branches
the
size
of
his
wrist
,
and
then
he
could
remove
his
wet
foot-gear
,
and
,
while
it
dried
,
he
could
keep
his
naked
feet
warm
by
the
fire
,
rubbing
them
at
first
,
of
course
,
with
snow
.
The
fire
was
a
success
.
He
was
safe
.
He
remembered
the
advice
of
the
old-timer
on
Sulphur
Creek
,
and
smiled
.
The
old-timer
had
been
very
serious
in
laying
down
the
law
that
no
man
must
travel
alone
in
the
Klondike
after
fifty
below
.
Well
,
here
he
was
;
he
had
had
the
accident
;
he
was
alone
;
and
he
had
saved
himself
.
Those
old-timers
were
rather
womanish
,
some
of
them
,
he
thought
.
All
a
man
had
to
do
was
to
keep
his
head
,
and
he
was
all
right
.
Any
man
who
was
a
man
could
travel
alone
.
But
it
was
surprising
,
the
rapidity
with
which
his
cheeks
and
nose
were
freezing
.
And
he
had
not
thought
his
fingers
could
go
lifeless
in
so
short
a
time
.
Lifeless
they
were
,
for
he
could
scarcely
make
them
move
together
to
grip
a
twig
,
and
they
seemed
remote
from
his
body
and
from
him
.
When
he
touched
a
twig
,
he
had
to
look
and
see
whether
or
not
he
had
hold
of
it
.
The
wires
were
pretty
well
down
between
him
and
his
finger-ends
.
All
of
which
counted
for
little
.
There
was
the
fire
,
snapping
and
crackling
and
promising
life
with
every
dancing
flame
.
He
started
to
untie
his
moccasins
.
They
were
coated
with
ice
;
the
thick
German
socks
were
like
sheaths
of
iron
half-way
to
the
knees
;
and
the
mocassin
strings
were
like
rods
of
steel
all
twisted
and
knotted
as
by
some
conflagration
.
For
a
moment
he
tugged
with
his
numbed
fingers
,
then
,
realizing
the
folly
of
it
,
he
drew
his
sheath-knife
.
But
before
he
could
cut
the
strings
,
it
happened
.
It
was
his
own
fault
or
,
rather
,
his
mistake
.
He
should
not
have
built
the
fire
under
the
spruce
tree
.
He
should
have
built
it
in
the
open
.
But
it
had
been
easier
to
pull
the
twigs
from
the
brush
and
drop
them
directly
on
the
fire
.
Now
the
tree
under
which
he
had
done
this
carried
a
weight
of
snow
on
its
boughs
.
No
wind
had
blown
for
weeks
,
and
each
bough
was
fully
freighted
.
Each
time
he
had
pulled
a
twig
he
had
communicated
a
slight
agitation
to
the
tree
--
an
imperceptible
agitation
,
so
far
as
he
was
concerned
,
but
an
agitation
sufficient
to
bring
about
the
disaster
.
High
up
in
the
tree
one
bough
capsized
its
load
of
snow
.
This
fell
on
the
boughs
beneath
,
capsizing
them
.
This
process
continued
,
spreading
out
and
involving
the
whole
tree
.
It
grew
like
an
avalanche
,
and
it
descended
without
warning
upon
the
man
and
the
fire
,
and
the
fire
was
blotted
out
!
Where
it
had
burned
was
a
mantle
of
fresh
and
disordered
snow
.
The
man
was
shocked
.
It
was
as
though
he
had
just
heard
his
own
sentence
of
death
.
For
a
moment
he
sat
and
stared
at
the
spot
where
the
fire
had
been
.
Then
he
grew
very
calm
.
Perhaps
the
old-timer
on
Sulphur
Creek
was
right
.
If
he
had
only
had
a
trail-mate
he
would
have
been
in
no
danger
now
.
The
trail-mate
could
have
built
the
fire
.
Well
,
it
was
up
to
him
to
build
the
fire
over
again
,
and
this
second
time
there
must
be
no
failure
.
Even
if
he
succeeded
,
he
would
most
likely
lose
some
toes
.
His
feet
must
be
badly
frozen
by
now
,
and
there
would
be
some
time
before
the
second
fire
was
ready
.
Such
were
his
thoughts
,
but
he
did
not
sit
and
think
them
.
He
was
busy
all
the
time
they
were
passing
through
his
mind
,
he
made
a
new
foundation
for
a
fire
,
this
time
in
the
open
;
where
no
treacherous
tree
could
blot
it
out
.
Next
,
he
gathered
dry
grasses
and
tiny
twigs
from
the
high-water
flotsam
.
He
could
not
bring
his
fingers
together
to
pull
them
out
,
but
he
was
able
to
gather
them
by
the
handful
.
In
this
way
he
got
many
rotten
twigs
and
bits
of
green
moss
that
were
undesirable
,
but
it
was
the
best
he
could
do
.
He
worked
methodically
,
even
collecting
an
armful
of
the
larger
branches
to
be
used
later
when
the
fire
gathered
strength
.
And
all
the
while
the
dog
sat
and
watched
him
,
a
certain
yearning
wistfulness
in
its
eyes
,
for
it
looked
upon
him
as
the
fire-provider
,
and
the
fire
was
slow
in
coming
.
When
all
was
ready
,
the
man
reached
in
his
pocket
for
a
second
piece
of
birch-bark
.
He
knew
the
bark
was
there
,
and
,
though
he
could
not
feel
it
with
his
fingers
,
he
could
hear
its
crisp
rustling
as
he
fumbled
for
it
.
Try
as
he
would
,
he
could
not
clutch
hold
of
it
.
And
all
the
time
,
in
his
consciousness
,
was
the
knowledge
that
each
instant
his
feet
were
freezing
.
This
thought
tended
to
put
him
in
a
panic
,
but
he
fought
against
it
and
kept
calm
.
He
pulled
on
his
mittens
with
his
teeth
,
and
threshed
his
arms
back
and
forth
,
beating
his
hands
with
all
his
might
against
his
sides
.
He
did
this
sitting
down
,
and
he
stood
up
to
do
it
;
and
all
the
while
the
dog
sat
in
the
snow
,
its
wolf-brush
of
a
tail
curled
around
warmly
over
its
forefeet
,
its
sharp
wolf-ears
pricked
forward
intently
as
it
watched
the
man
.
And
the
man
as
he
beat
and
threshed
with
his
arms
and
hands
,
felt
a
great
surge
of
envy
as
he
regarded
the
creature
that
was
warm
and
secure
in
its
natural
covering
.
After
a
time
he
was
aware
of
the
first
far-away
signals
of
sensation
in
his
beaten
fingers
.
The
faint
tingling
grew
stronger
till
it
evolved
into
a
stinging
ache
that
was
excruciating
,
but
which
the
man
hailed
with
satisfaction
.
He
stripped
the
mitten
from
his
right
hand
and
fetched
forth
the
birch-bark
.
The
exposed
fingers
were
quickly
going
numb
again
.
Next
he
brought
out
his
bunch
of
sulphur
matches
.
