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- Джек Лондон
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- Стр. 97/119
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"
It
's
beyond
me
,
Matt
,
"
Scott
answered
,
with
a
mournful
shake
of
the
head
.
Then
came
the
day
when
,
through
the
open
cabin
door
,
White
Fang
saw
the
fatal
grip
on
the
floor
and
the
love-master
packing
things
into
it
.
Also
,
there
were
comings
and
goings
,
and
the
erstwhile
placid
atmosphere
of
the
cabin
was
vexed
with
strange
perturbations
and
unrest
.
Here
was
indubitable
evidence
.
White
Fang
had
already
scented
it
.
He
now
reasoned
it
.
His
god
was
preparing
for
another
flight
.
And
since
he
had
not
taken
him
with
him
before
,
so
,
now
,
he
could
look
to
be
left
behind
.
That
night
he
lifted
the
long
wolf-howl
.
As
he
had
howled
,
in
his
puppy
days
,
when
he
fled
back
from
the
Wild
to
the
village
to
find
it
vanished
and
naught
but
a
rubbish-heap
to
mark
the
site
of
Grey
Beaver
's
tepee
,
so
now
he
pointed
his
muzzle
to
the
cold
stars
and
told
to
them
his
woe
.
Inside
the
cabin
the
two
men
had
just
gone
to
bed
.
"
He
's
gone
off
his
food
again
,
"
Matt
remarked
from
his
bunk
.
There
was
a
grunt
from
Weedon
Scott
's
bunk
,
and
a
stir
of
blankets
.
"
From
the
way
he
cut
up
the
other
time
you
went
away
,
I
would
n't
wonder
this
time
but
what
he
died
.
"
The
blankets
in
the
other
bunk
stirred
irritably
.
"
Oh
,
shut
up
!
"
Scott
cried
out
through
the
darkness
.
"
You
nag
worse
than
a
woman
.
"
"
I
'm
agreein
'
with
you
,
"
the
dog-musher
answered
,
and
Weedon
Scott
was
not
quite
sure
whether
or
not
the
other
had
snickered
.
