-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Джек Лондон
-
- Зов предков
-
- Стр. 4/42
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
He
was
glad
for
one
thing
:
the
rope
was
off
his
neck
.
That
had
given
them
an
unfair
advantage
;
but
now
that
it
was
off
,
he
would
show
them
.
They
would
never
get
another
rope
around
his
neck
.
Upon
that
he
was
resolved
.
For
two
days
and
nights
he
neither
ate
nor
drank
,
and
during
those
two
days
and
nights
of
torment
,
he
accumulated
a
fund
of
wrath
that
boded
ill
for
whoever
first
fell
foul
of
him
.
His
eyes
turned
blood-shot
,
and
he
was
metamorphosed
into
a
raging
fiend
.
So
changed
was
he
that
the
Judge
himself
would
not
have
recognized
him
;
and
the
express
messengers
breathed
with
relief
when
they
bundled
him
off
the
train
at
Seattle
.
Four
men
gingerly
carried
the
crate
from
the
wagon
into
a
small
,
high-walled
back
yard
.
A
stout
man
,
with
a
red
sweater
that
sagged
generously
at
the
neck
,
came
out
and
signed
the
book
for
the
driver
.
That
was
the
man
,
Buck
divined
,
the
next
tormentor
,
and
he
hurled
himself
savagely
against
the
bars
.
The
man
smiled
grimly
,
and
brought
a
hatchet
and
a
club
.
"
You
ai
n't
going
to
take
him
out
now
?
"
the
driver
asked
.
"
Sure
,
"
the
man
replied
,
driving
the
hatchet
into
the
crate
for
a
pry
.
There
was
an
instantaneous
scattering
of
the
four
men
who
had
carried
it
in
,
and
from
safe
perches
on
top
the
wall
they
prepared
to
watch
the
performance
.
Buck
rushed
at
the
splintering
wood
,
sinking
his
teeth
into
it
,
surging
and
wrestling
with
it
.
Wherever
the
hatchet
fell
on
the
outside
,
he
was
there
on
the
inside
,
snarling
and
growling
,
as
furiously
anxious
to
get
out
as
the
man
in
the
red
sweater
was
calmly
intent
on
getting
him
out
.
"
Now
,
you
red-eyed
devil
,
"
he
said
,
when
he
had
made
an
opening
sufficient
for
the
passage
of
Buck
's
body
.
At
the
same
time
he
dropped
the
hatchet
and
shifted
the
club
to
his
right
hand
.
And
Buck
was
truly
a
red-eyed
devil
,
as
he
drew
himself
together
for
the
spring
,
hair
bristling
,
mouth
foaming
,
a
mad
glitter
in
his
blood-shot
eyes
.
Straight
at
the
man
he
launched
his
one
hundred
and
forty
pounds
of
fury
,
surcharged
with
the
pent
passion
of
two
days
and
nights
.
In
mid
air
,
just
as
his
jaws
were
about
to
close
on
the
man
,
he
received
a
shock
that
checked
his
body
and
brought
his
teeth
together
with
an
agonizing
clip
.
He
whirled
over
,
fetching
the
ground
on
his
back
and
side
.
He
had
never
been
struck
by
a
club
in
his
life
,
and
did
not
understand
.
With
a
snarl
that
was
part
bark
and
more
scream
he
was
again
on
his
feet
and
launched
into
the
air
.
And
again
the
shock
came
and
he
was
brought
crushingly
to
the
ground
.
This
time
he
was
aware
that
it
was
the
club
,
but
his
madness
knew
no
caution
.
A
dozen
times
he
charged
,
and
as
often
the
club
broke
the
charge
and
smashed
him
down
.
After
a
particularly
fierce
blow
,
he
crawled
to
his
feet
,
too
dazed
to
rush
.
He
staggered
limply
about
,
the
blood
flowing
from
nose
and
mouth
and
ears
,
his
beautiful
coat
sprayed
and
flecked
with
bloody
slaver
.
Then
the
man
advanced
and
deliberately
dealt
him
a
frightful
blow
on
the
nose
.
All
the
pain
he
had
endured
was
as
nothing
compared
with
the
exquisite
agony
of
this
.
With
a
roar
that
was
almost
lionlike
in
its
ferocity
,
he
again
hurled
himself
at
the
man
.
But
the
man
,
shifting
the
club
from
right
to
left
,
coolly
caught
him
by
the
under
jaw
,
at
the
same
time
wrenching
downward
and
backward
.
Buck
described
a
complete
circle
in
the
air
,
and
half
of
another
,
then
crashed
to
the
ground
on
his
head
and
chest
.
For
the
last
time
he
rushed
.
The
man
struck
the
shrewd
blow
he
had
purposely
withheld
for
so
long
,
and
Buck
crumpled
up
and
went
down
,
knocked
utterly
senseless
.
