-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Джек Лондон
-
- Белый клык
-
- Стр. 71/119
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
There
were
cries
from
the
crowd
of
,
"
Go
to
him
,
Cherokee
!
Sick
'
m
,
Cherokee
!
Eat
'
m
up
!
"
But
Cherokee
did
not
seem
anxious
to
fight
.
He
turned
his
head
and
blinked
at
the
men
who
shouted
,
at
the
same
time
wagging
his
stump
of
a
tail
good-naturedly
.
He
was
not
afraid
,
but
merely
lazy
.
Besides
,
it
did
not
seem
to
him
that
it
was
intended
he
should
fight
with
the
dog
he
saw
before
him
.
He
was
not
used
to
fighting
with
that
kind
of
dog
,
and
he
was
waiting
for
them
to
bring
on
the
real
dog
.
Tim
Keenan
stepped
in
and
bent
over
Cherokee
,
fondling
him
on
both
sides
of
the
shoulders
with
hands
that
rubbed
against
the
grain
of
the
hair
and
that
made
slight
,
pushing-forward
movements
.
These
were
so
many
suggestions
.
Also
,
their
effect
was
irritating
,
for
Cherokee
began
to
growl
,
very
softly
,
deep
down
in
his
throat
.
There
was
a
correspondence
in
rhythm
between
the
growls
and
the
movements
of
the
man
's
hands
.
The
growl
rose
in
the
throat
with
the
culmination
of
each
forward-pushing
movement
,
and
ebbed
down
to
start
up
afresh
with
the
beginning
of
the
next
movement
.
The
end
of
each
movement
was
the
accent
of
the
rhythm
,
the
movement
ending
abruptly
and
the
growling
rising
with
a
jerk
.
This
was
not
without
its
effect
on
White
Fang
.
The
hair
began
to
rise
on
his
neck
and
across
the
shoulders
.
Tim
Keenan
gave
a
final
shove
forward
and
stepped
back
again
.
As
the
impetus
that
carried
Cherokee
forward
died
down
,
he
continued
to
go
forward
of
his
own
volition
,
in
a
swift
,
bow-legged
run
.
Then
White
Fang
struck
.
A
cry
of
startled
admiration
went
up
.
He
had
covered
the
distance
and
gone
in
more
like
a
cat
than
a
dog
;
and
with
the
same
cat-like
swiftness
he
had
slashed
with
his
fangs
and
leaped
clear
.
The
bull-dog
was
bleeding
back
of
one
ear
from
a
rip
in
his
thick
neck
.
He
gave
no
sign
,
did
not
even
snarl
,
but
turned
and
followed
after
White
Fang
.
The
display
on
both
sides
,
the
quickness
of
the
one
and
the
steadiness
of
the
other
,
had
excited
the
partisan
spirit
of
the
crowd
,
and
the
men
were
making
new
bets
and
increasing
original
bets
.
Again
,
and
yet
again
,
White
Fang
sprang
in
,
slashed
,
and
got
away
untouched
,
and
still
his
strange
foe
followed
after
him
,
without
too
great
haste
,
not
slowly
,
but
deliberately
and
determinedly
,
in
a
businesslike
sort
of
way
.
There
was
purpose
in
his
method
--
something
for
him
to
do
that
he
was
intent
upon
doing
and
from
which
nothing
could
distract
him
.
His
whole
demeanour
,
every
action
,
was
stamped
with
this
purpose
.
It
puzzled
White
Fang
.
Never
had
he
seen
such
a
dog
.
It
had
no
hair
protection
.
It
was
soft
,
and
bled
easily
.
There
was
no
thick
mat
of
fur
to
baffle
White
Fang
's
teeth
as
they
were
often
baffled
by
dogs
of
his
own
breed
.
Each
time
that
his
teeth
struck
they
sank
easily
into
the
yielding
flesh
,
while
the
animal
did
not
seem
able
to
defend
itself
.
Another
disconcerting
thing
was
that
it
made
no
outcry
,
such
as
he
had
been
accustomed
to
with
the
other
dogs
he
had
fought
.
Beyond
a
growl
or
a
grunt
,
the
dog
took
its
punishment
silently
.
And
never
did
it
flag
in
its
pursuit
of
him
.
Not
that
Cherokee
was
slow
.
He
could
turn
and
whirl
swiftly
enough
,
but
White
Fang
was
never
there
.
Cherokee
was
puzzled
,
too
.
He
had
never
fought
before
with
a
dog
with
which
he
could
not
close
.
The
desire
to
close
had
always
been
mutual
.
But
here
was
a
dog
that
kept
at
a
distance
,
dancing
and
dodging
here
and
there
and
all
about
.
And
when
it
did
get
its
teeth
into
him
,
it
did
not
hold
on
but
let
go
instantly
and
darted
away
again
.
But
White
Fang
could
not
get
at
the
soft
underside
of
the
throat
.
The
bull-dog
stood
too
short
,
while
its
massive
jaws
were
an
added
protection
.
White
Fang
darted
in
and
out
unscathed
,
while
Cherokee
's
wounds
increased
.
Both
sides
of
his
neck
and
head
were
ripped
and
slashed
.
He
bled
freely
,
but
showed
no
signs
of
being
disconcerted
.
He
continued
his
plodding
pursuit
,
though
once
,
for
the
moment
baffled
,
he
came
to
a
full
stop
and
blinked
at
the
men
who
looked
on
,
at
the
same
time
wagging
his
stump
of
a
tail
as
an
expression
of
his
willingness
to
fight
.
In
that
moment
White
Fang
was
in
upon
him
and
out
,
in
passing
ripping
his
trimmed
remnant
of
an
ear
.
With
a
slight
manifestation
of
anger
,
Cherokee
took
up
the
pursuit
again
,
running
on
the
inside
of
the
circle
White
Fang
was
making
,
and
striving
to
fasten
his
deadly
grip
on
White
Fang
's
throat
.
The
bull-dog
missed
by
a
hair
's
-
breadth
,
and
cries
of
praise
went
up
as
White
Fang
doubled
suddenly
out
of
danger
in
the
opposite
direction
.
The
time
went
by
.
White
Fang
still
danced
on
,
dodging
and
doubling
,
leaping
in
and
out
,
and
ever
inflicting
damage
.
And
still
the
bull-dog
,
with
grim
certitude
,
toiled
after
him
.
Sooner
or
later
he
would
accomplish
his
purpose
,
get
the
grip
that
would
win
the
battle
.
In
the
meantime
,
he
accepted
all
the
punishment
the
other
could
deal
him
.
His
tufts
of
ears
had
become
tassels
,
his
neck
and
shoulders
were
slashed
in
a
score
of
places
,
and
his
very
lips
were
cut
and
bleeding
--
all
from
these
lightning
snaps
that
were
beyond
his
foreseeing
and
guarding
.