-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Колин Маккалоу
-
- Поющие в терновнике
-
- Стр. 37/535
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
As
the
sire
of
this
phenomenon
,
Paddy
knew
Frank
's
reputation
very
well
and
understood
Frank
's
battle
to
gain
respect
,
though
it
did
not
prevent
his
becoming
angry
when
fighting
interfered
with
the
work
in
the
forge
.
Being
a
small
man
himself
,
Paddy
had
had
his
share
of
fights
to
prove
his
courage
,
but
in
his
part
of
Ireland
he
was
not
diminutive
and
by
the
time
he
arrived
in
New
Zealand
,
where
men
were
taller
,
he
was
a
man
grown
.
Thus
his
size
was
never
the
obsession
with
him
it
was
with
Frank
.
Now
he
watched
the
boy
carefully
,
trying
to
understand
him
and
failing
;
this
one
had
always
been
the
farthest
from
his
heart
,
no
matter
how
he
struggled
against
discriminating
among
his
children
.
He
knew
it
grieved
Fee
,
that
she
worried
over
the
unspoken
antagonism
between
them
,
but
even
his
love
for
Fee
could
not
overcome
his
exasperation
with
Frank
.
Frank
's
short
,
finely
made
hands
were
spread
across
the
open
paper
defensively
,
his
eyes
riveted
on
Paddy
's
face
in
a
curious
mixture
of
pleading
and
a
pride
that
was
too
stiff-necked
to
plead
.
How
alien
the
face
was
!
No
Cleary
or
Armstrong
in
it
,
except
perhaps
a
little
look
of
Fee
around
the
eyes
,
if
Fee
's
eyes
had
been
dark
and
could
have
snapped
and
flashed
the
way
Frank
's
did
on
slightest
provocation
.
One
thing
the
lad
did
not
lack
,
and
that
was
courage
.
The
subject
ended
abruptly
with
Paddy
's
remark
about
Frank
's
size
;
the
family
ate
stewed
rabbit
in
unusual
silence
,
even
Hughie
and
Jack
treading
carefully
through
a
sticky
,
self-conscious
conversation
punctuated
by
much
shrill
giggling
.
Meggie
refused
to
eat
,
fixing
her
gaze
on
Frank
as
if
he
were
going
to
disappear
from
sight
any
moment
.
Frank
picked
at
his
food
for
a
decent
interval
,
and
as
soon
as
he
could
excused
himself
from
the
table
.
A
minute
later
they
heard
the
axe
clunking
dully
from
the
woodheap
;
Frank
was
attacking
the
hardwood
logs
Paddy
had
brought
home
to
store
for
the
slow-burning
fires
of
winter
.
When
everyone
thought
she
was
in
bed
,
Meggie
squeezed
out
of
her
bedroom
window
and
sneaked
down
to
the
woodheap
.
It
was
a
tremendously
important
area
in
the
continuing
life
of
the
house
;
about
a
thousand
square
feet
of
ground
padded
and
deadened
by
a
thick
layer
of
chips
and
bark
,
great
high
stacks
of
logs
on
one
side
waiting
to
be
reduced
in
size
,
and
on
the
other
side
mosaic-like
walls
of
neatly
prepared
wood
just
the
right
size
for
the
stove
firebox
.
In
the
middle
of
the
open
space
three
tree
stumps
still
rooted
in
the
ground
were
used
as
blocks
to
chop
different
heights
of
wood
.
Frank
was
not
on
a
block
;
he
was
working
on
a
massive
eucalyptus
log
and
undercutting
it
to
get
it
small
enough
to
place
on
the
lowest
,
widest
stump
.
Its
two-foot-diameter
bulk
lay
on
the
earth
,
each
end
immobilized
by
an
iron
spike
,
and
Frank
was
standing
on
top
of
it
,
cutting
it
in
two
between
his
spread
feet
.
The
axe
was
moving
so
fast
it
whistled
,
and
the
handle
made
its
own
separate
swishing
sound
as
it
slid
up
and
down
within
his
slippery
palms
.
Up
it
flashed
above
his
head
,
down
it
came
in
a
dull
silver
blur
,
carving
a
wedge-shaped
chunk
out
of
the
iron-hard
wood
as
easily
as
if
it
had
been
a
pine
or
a
deciduous
tree
.
Sundered
pieces
of
wood
were
flying
in
all
directions
,
the
sweat
was
running
in
streams
down
Frank
's
bare
chest
and
back
,
and
he
had
wound
his
handkerchief
about
his
brow
to
keep
the
sweat
from
blinding
him
.
It
was
dangerous
work
,
undercutting
;
one
mistimed
or
badly
directed
hack
,
and
he
would
be
minus
a
foot
.
He
had
his
leather
wrist-bands
on
to
soak
up
the
sweat
from
his
arms
,
but
the
delicate
hands
were
ungloved
,
gripping
the
axe
handle
lightly
and
with
exquisitely
directed
skill
.
Meggie
crouched
down
beside
his
discarded
shirt
and
undervest
to
watch
,
awed
.
Three
spare
axes
were
lying
nearby
,
for
eucalyptus
wood
blunted
the
sharpest
axe
in
no
time
at
all
.
She
grasped
one
by
its
handle
and
dragged
it
onto
her
knees
,
wishing
she
could
chop
wood
like
Frank
.
The
axe
was
so
heavy
she
could
hardly
lift
it
.
Colonial
axes
had
only
one
blade
,
honed
to
hair-splitting
sharpness
,
for
double-bladed
axes
were
too
light
for
eucalyptus
.
The
back
of
the
axe
head
was
an
inch
thick
and
weighted
,
the
handle
passing
through
it
,
firmly
anchored
with
small
bits
of
extra
wood
.
A
loose
axe
head
could
come
off
in
midswing
,
snap
through
the
air
as
hard
and
fast
as
a
cannonball
and
kill
someone
.
Frank
was
cutting
almost
instinctively
in
the
fast-fading
light
;
Meggie
dodged
the
chips
with
the
ease
of
long
practice
and
waited
patiently
for
him
to
spy
her
.
The
log
was
half
severed
,
and
he
turned
himself
the
opposite
way
,
gasping
;
then
he
swung
the
axe
up
again
,
and
began
to
cut
the
second
side
.
It
was
a
deep
,
narrow
gap
,
to
conserve
wood
and
hasten
the
process
;
as
he
worked
toward
the
center
of
the
log
the
axe
head
disappeared
entirely
inside
the
cut
,
and
the
big
wedges
of
wood
flew
out
closer
and
closer
to
his
body
.
He
ignored
them
,
chopping
even
faster
.