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- Джек Лондон
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- Стр. 18/119
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But
Bill
ignored
him
.
"
I
seen
some
of
them
.
They
're
pretty
thin
.
They
ai
n't
had
a
bite
in
weeks
I
reckon
,
outside
of
Fatty
an
'
Frog
an
'
Spanker
;
an
'
there
's
so
many
of
'em
that
that
did
n't
go
far
.
They
're
remarkable
thin
.
Their
ribs
is
like
wash-boards
,
an
'
their
stomachs
is
right
up
against
their
backbones
.
They
're
pretty
desperate
,
I
can
tell
you
.
They
'll
be
goin
'
mad
,
yet
,
an
'
then
watch
out
.
"
A
few
minutes
later
,
Henry
,
who
was
now
travelling
behind
the
sled
,
emitted
a
low
,
warning
whistle
.
Bill
turned
and
looked
,
then
quietly
stopped
the
dogs
.
To
the
rear
,
from
around
the
last
bend
and
plainly
into
view
,
on
the
very
trail
they
had
just
covered
,
trotted
a
furry
,
slinking
form
.
Its
nose
was
to
the
trail
,
and
it
trotted
with
a
peculiar
,
sliding
,
effortless
gait
.
When
they
halted
,
it
halted
,
throwing
up
its
head
and
regarding
them
steadily
with
nostrils
that
twitched
as
it
caught
and
studied
the
scent
of
them
.
"
It
's
the
she-wolf
,
"
Bill
answered
.
The
dogs
had
lain
down
in
the
snow
,
and
he
walked
past
them
to
join
his
partner
in
the
sled
.
Together
they
watched
the
strange
animal
that
had
pursued
them
for
days
and
that
had
already
accomplished
the
destruction
of
half
their
dog-team
.
After
a
searching
scrutiny
,
the
animal
trotted
forward
a
few
steps
.
This
it
repeated
several
times
,
till
it
was
a
short
hundred
yards
away
.
It
paused
,
head
up
,
close
by
a
clump
of
spruce
trees
,
and
with
sight
and
scent
studied
the
outfit
of
the
watching
men
.
It
looked
at
them
in
a
strangely
wistful
way
,
after
the
manner
of
a
dog
;
but
in
its
wistfulness
there
was
none
of
the
dog
affection
.
It
was
a
wistfulness
bred
of
hunger
,
as
cruel
as
its
own
fangs
,
as
merciless
as
the
frost
itself
.
It
was
large
for
a
wolf
,
its
gaunt
frame
advertising
the
lines
of
an
animal
that
was
among
the
largest
of
its
kind
.
"
Stands
pretty
close
to
two
feet
an
'
a
half
at
the
shoulders
,
"
Henry
commented
.
"
An
'
I
'll
bet
it
ai
n't
far
from
five
feet
long
.
"
"
Kind
of
strange
colour
for
a
wolf
,
"
was
Bill
's
criticism
.
"
I
never
seen
a
red
wolf
before
.
Looks
almost
cinnamon
to
me
.
"
The
animal
was
certainly
not
cinnamon-coloured
.
Its
coat
was
the
true
wolf-coat
.
The
dominant
colour
was
grey
,
and
yet
there
was
to
it
a
faint
reddish
hue
--
a
hue
that
was
baffling
,
that
appeared
and
disappeared
,
that
was
more
like
an
illusion
of
the
vision
,
now
grey
,
distinctly
grey
,
and
again
giving
hints
and
glints
of
a
vague
redness
of
colour
not
classifiable
in
terms
of
ordinary
experience
.
"
Looks
for
all
the
world
like
a
big
husky
sled-dog
,
"
Bill
said
.
"
I
would
n't
be
s
'
prised
to
see
it
wag
its
tail
.
"
