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- Стр. 133/409
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The
wind
was
sharper
,
colder
,
quickly
numbing
his
face
.
Are
we
above
the
treeline
?
he
wondered
.
He
looked
up
and
saw
a
billion
stars
,
cold
lights
in
the
darkness
.
Never
in
his
life
had
the
stars
made
him
feel
so
completely
small
,
infinitesimal
,
without
meaning
.
He
asked
himself
the
old
question
--
is
there
anything
intelligent
out
there
?
--
and
instead
of
wonder
,
the
thought
brought
a
horrid
cold
feeling
,
as
if
he
had
asked
himself
what
it
might
be
like
to
eat
a
handful
of
squirming
bugs
.
...
twenty-six
...
twenty-seven
...
twenty-eight
...
Who
carved
these
,
anyway
?
Indians
?
The
Micmacs
?
Were
they
tool-bearing
Indians
?
I
'll
have
to
ask
Jud
.
"
Tool-bearing
Indians
"
made
him
think
of
"
fur-bearing
animals
,
"
and
that
made
him
think
of
that
thing
that
had
been
moving
near
them
in
the
woods
.
One
foot
stumbled
,
and
he
raked
a
gloved
hand
along
the
rock
wall
to
his
left
for
balance
.
The
wall
felt
old
,
chipped
and
channeled
and
wrinkled
.
Like
dry
skin
that
's
almost
worn
out
,
he
thought
.
"
You
all
right
,
Louis
?
"
Jud
murmured
.
"
I
'm
okay
,
"
he
said
,
although
he
was
nearly
out
of
breath
and
his
muscles
throbbed
from
the
weight
of
Church
in
the
bag
.
...
forty-two
...
forty-three
...
forty-four
...
"
Forty-five
,
"
Jud
said
.
"
I
've
forgot
.
Have
n't
been
up
here
in
twelve
years
,
I
guess
.
Do
n't
suppose
I
'll
ever
have
a
reason
to
come
again
.
Here
...
up
you
come
and
up
you
get
.
"
He
grabbed
Louis
's
arm
and
helped
him
up
the
last
step
.
"
We
're
here
,
"
Jud
said
.
Louis
looked
around
.
He
could
see
well
enough
;
the
starlight
was
dim
but
adequate
.
They
were
standing
on
a
rocky
,
rubble-strewn
plate
of
rock
which
slid
out
of
the
thin
earth
directly
ahead
like
a
dark
tongue
.
Looking
the
other
way
,
he
could
see
the
tops
of
the
fir
trees
they
had
come
through
in
order
to
reach
the
steps
.
They
had
apparently
climbed
to
the
top
of
some
weird
,
flat-topped
mesa
,
a
geological
anomaly
that
would
have
seemed
far
more
normal
in
Arizona
or
New
Mexico
.
Because
the
grassed-over
top
of
the
mesa
--
or
hill
,
or
truncated
mountain
,
or
whatever
it
was
--
was
bare
of
trees
,
the
sun
had
melted
the
snow
here
.
Turning
back
to
Jud
,
Louis
saw
dry
grasses
bending
before
the
steady
wind
that
blew
coldly
in
his
face
,
and
saw
that
it
was
a
hill
,
not
an
isolated
mesa
.
Ahead
of
them
the
ground
rose
again
toward
trees
.
But
this
flatness
was
so
obvious
,
and
so
odd
in
the
context
of
New
England
's
low
and
somehow
tired
hills
--
