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- Джек Лондон
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The
situation
grew
unspeakably
worse
in
the
afternoon
.
The
quiet
sun
blazed
down
through
the
clear
windless
air
and
made
a
furnace
of
our
hole
in
the
sand
.
And
all
about
us
were
the
explosions
of
rifles
and
yells
of
the
Indians
.
Only
once
in
a
while
did
father
permit
a
single
shot
from
the
trench
,
and
at
that
only
by
our
best
marksmen
,
such
as
Laban
and
Timothy
Grant
.
But
a
steady
stream
of
lead
poured
into
our
position
all
the
time
.
There
were
no
more
disastrous
ricochets
,
however
;
and
our
men
in
the
trench
,
no
longer
firing
,
lay
low
and
escaped
damage
.
Only
four
were
wounded
,
and
only
one
of
them
very
badly
.
Father
came
in
from
the
trench
during
a
lull
in
the
firing
.
He
sat
for
a
few
minutes
alongside
mother
and
me
without
speaking
.
He
seemed
to
be
listening
to
all
the
moaning
and
crying
for
water
that
was
going
up
.
Once
he
climbed
out
of
the
rifle
pit
and
went
over
to
investigate
the
well
.
He
brought
back
only
damp
sand
,
which
he
plastered
thick
on
the
chest
and
shoulders
of
Robert
Carr
.
Then
he
went
to
where
Jed
Dunham
and
his
mother
were
,
and
sent
for
Jed
's
father
to
come
in
from
the
trench
.
So
closely
packed
were
we
that
when
anybody
moved
about
inside
the
rifle
pit
he
had
to
crawl
carefully
over
the
bodies
of
those
lying
down
.
After
a
time
father
came
crawling
back
to
us
.
"
Jesse
,
"
he
asked
,
"
are
you
afraid
of
the
Indians
?
"
I
shook
my
head
emphatically
,
guessing
that
I
was
to
be
seat
on
another
proud
mission
.
"
Are
you
afraid
of
the
damned
Mormons
?
"
"
Not
of
any
damned
Mormon
,
"
I
answered
,
taking
advantage
of
the
opportunity
to
curse
our
enemies
without
fear
of
the
avenging
back
of
mother
's
hand
.
I
noted
the
little
smile
that
curled
his
tired
lips
for
the
moment
when
he
heard
my
reply
.
"
Well
,
then
,
Jesse
,
"
he
said
,
"
will
you
go
with
Jed
to
the
spring
for
water
?
"
