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- Джек Лондон
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- Стр. 36/42
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But
no
living
man
had
looted
this
treasure
house
,
and
the
dead
were
dead
;
wherefore
John
Thornton
and
Pete
and
Hans
,
with
Buck
and
half
a
dozen
other
dogs
,
faced
into
the
East
on
an
unknown
trail
to
achieve
where
men
and
dogs
as
good
as
themselves
had
failed
.
They
sledded
seventy
miles
up
the
Yukon
,
swung
to
the
left
into
the
Stewart
River
,
passed
the
Mayo
and
the
McQuestion
,
and
held
on
until
the
Stewart
itself
became
a
streamlet
,
threading
the
upstanding
peaks
which
marked
the
backbone
of
the
continent
.
John
Thornton
asked
little
of
man
or
nature
.
He
was
unafraid
of
the
wild
.
With
a
handful
of
salt
and
a
rifle
he
could
plunge
into
the
wilderness
and
fare
wherever
he
pleased
and
as
long
as
he
pleased
.
Being
in
no
haste
,
Indian
fashion
,
he
hunted
his
dinner
in
the
course
of
the
day
's
travel
;
and
if
he
failed
to
find
it
,
like
the
Indian
,
he
kept
on
travelling
,
secure
in
the
knowledge
that
sooner
or
later
he
would
come
to
it
.
So
,
on
this
great
journey
into
the
East
,
straight
meat
was
the
bill
of
fare
,
ammunition
and
tools
principally
made
up
the
load
on
the
sled
,
and
the
time-card
was
drawn
upon
the
limitless
future
.
To
Buck
it
was
boundless
delight
,
this
hunting
,
fishing
,
and
indefinite
wandering
through
strange
places
.
For
weeks
at
a
time
they
would
hold
on
steadily
,
day
after
day
;
and
for
weeks
upon
end
they
would
camp
,
here
and
there
,
the
dogs
loafing
and
the
men
burning
holes
through
frozen
muck
and
gravel
and
washing
countless
pans
of
dirt
by
the
heat
of
the
fire
.
Sometimes
they
went
hungry
,
sometimes
they
feasted
riotously
,
all
according
to
the
abundance
of
game
and
the
fortune
of
hunting
.
Summer
arrived
,
and
dogs
and
men
packed
on
their
backs
,
rafted
across
blue
mountain
lakes
,
and
descended
or
ascended
unknown
rivers
in
slender
boats
whipsawed
from
the
standing
forest
.
The
months
came
and
went
,
and
back
and
forth
they
twisted
through
the
uncharted
vastness
,
where
no
men
were
and
yet
where
men
had
been
if
the
Lost
Cabin
were
true
.
They
went
across
divides
in
summer
blizzards
,
shivered
under
the
midnight
sun
on
naked
mountains
between
the
timber
line
and
the
eternal
snows
,
dropped
into
summer
valleys
amid
swarming
gnats
and
flies
,
and
in
the
shadows
of
glaciers
picked
strawberries
and
flowers
as
ripe
and
fair
as
any
the
Southland
could
boast
.
In
the
fall
of
the
year
they
penetrated
a
weird
lake
country
,
sad
and
silent
,
where
wildfowl
had
been
,
but
where
then
there
was
no
life
nor
sign
of
life
--
only
the
blowing
of
chill
winds
,
the
forming
of
ice
in
sheltered
places
,
and
the
melancholy
rippling
of
waves
on
lonely
beaches
.
And
through
another
winter
they
wandered
on
the
obliterated
trails
of
men
who
had
gone
before
.
Once
,
they
came
upon
a
path
blazed
through
the
forest
,
an
ancient
path
,
and
the
Lost
Cabin
seemed
very
near
.
But
the
path
began
nowhere
and
ended
nowhere
,
and
it
remained
mystery
,
as
the
man
who
made
it
and
the
reason
he
made
it
remained
mystery
.
Another
time
they
chanced
upon
the
time-graven
wreckage
of
a
hunting
lodge
,
and
amid
the
shreds
of
rotted
blankets
John
Thornton
found
a
long-barrelled
flint-lock
.
He
knew
it
for
a
Hudson
Bay
Company
gun
of
the
young
days
in
the
Northwest
,
when
such
a
gun
was
worth
its
height
in
beaver
skins
packed
flat
.
And
that
was
all
--
no
hint
as
to
the
man
who
in
an
early
day
had
reared
the
lodge
and
left
the
gun
among
the
blankets
.
Spring
came
on
once
more
,
and
at
the
end
of
all
their
wandering
they
found
,
not
the
Lost
Cabin
,
but
a
shallow
placer
in
a
broad
valley
where
the
gold
showed
like
yellow
butter
across
the
bottom
of
the
washing-pan
.
They
sought
no
farther
.
Each
day
they
worked
earned
them
thousands
of
dollars
in
clean
dust
and
nuggets
,
and
they
worked
every
day
.
The
gold
was
sacked
in
moose-hide
bags
,
fifty
pounds
to
the
bag
,
and
piled
like
so
much
firewood
outside
the
spruce-bough
lodge
.
Like
giants
they
toiled
,
days
flashing
on
the
heels
of
days
like
dreams
as
they
heaped
the
treasure
up
.
There
was
nothing
for
the
dogs
to
do
,
save
the
hauling
in
of
meat
now
and
again
that
Thornton
killed
,
and
Buck
spent
long
hours
musing
by
the
fire
.
The
vision
of
the
short-legged
hairy
man
came
to
him
more
frequently
,
now
that
there
was
little
work
to
be
done
;
and
often
,
blinking
by
the
fire
,
Buck
wandered
with
him
in
that
other
world
which
he
remembered
.
The
salient
thing
of
this
other
world
seemed
fear
.
When
he
watched
the
hairy
man
sleeping
by
the
fire
,
head
between
his
knees
and
hands
clasped
above
,
Buck
saw
that
he
slept
restlessly
,
with
many
starts
and
awakenings
,
at
which
times
he
would
peer
fearfully
into
the
darkness
and
fling
more
wood
upon
the
fire
.
Did
they
walk
by
the
beach
of
a
sea
,
where
the
hairy
man
gathered
shellfish
and
ate
them
as
he
gathered
,
it
was
with
eyes
that
roved
everywhere
for
hidden
danger
and
with
legs
prepared
to
run
like
the
wind
at
its
first
appearance
.
