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- Уильям Голдинг
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"
Kill
him
!
Kill
him
!
"
All
at
once
,
Robert
was
screaming
and
struggling
with
the
strength
of
frenzy
.
Jack
had
him
by
the
hair
and
was
brandishing
his
knife
.
Behind
him
was
Roger
,
fighting
to
get
close
.
The
chant
rose
ritually
,
as
at
the
last
moment
of
a
dance
or
a
hunt
.
"
_
Kill
the
pig
!
Cut
his
throat
!
Kill
the
pig
!
Bash
him
in
!
_
"
Ralph
too
was
fighting
to
get
near
,
to
get
a
handful
of
that
brown
,
vulnerable
flesh
.
The
desire
to
squeeze
and
hurt
was
over-mastering
.
Jack
's
arm
came
down
;
the
heaving
circle
cheered
and
made
pig-dying
noises
.
Then
they
lay
quiet
,
panting
,
listening
to
Robert
's
frightened
snivels
.
He
wiped
his
face
with
a
dirty
arm
,
and
made
an
effort
to
retrieve
his
status
.
"
Oh
,
my
bum
!
"
He
rubbed
his
rump
ruefully
.
Jack
rolled
over
.
"
That
was
a
good
game
.
"
"
Just
a
game
,
"
said
Ralph
uneasily
.
"
I
got
jolly
badly
hurt
at
rugger
once
.
"
"
We
ought
to
have
a
drum
,
"
said
Maurice
,
"
then
we
could
do
it
properly
.
"
