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- Уильям Голдинг
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- Стр. 227/308
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The
hunters
were
looking
uneasily
at
the
sky
,
flinching
from
the
stroke
of
the
drops
.
A
wave
of
restlessness
set
the
boys
swaying
and
moving
aimlessly
.
The
flickering
light
became
brighter
and
the
blows
of
the
thunder
were
only
just
bearable
.
The
littluns
began
to
run
about
,
screaming
.
Jack
leapt
on
to
the
sand
.
"
Do
our
dance
!
Come
on
!
Dance
!
"
He
ran
stumbling
through
the
thick
sand
to
the
open
space
of
rock
beyond
the
fire
.
Between
the
flashes
of
lightning
the
air
was
dark
and
terrible
;
and
the
boys
followed
him
,
clamorously
.
Roger
became
the
pig
,
grunting
and
charging
at
Jack
,
who
side-stepped
.
The
hunters
took
their
spears
,
the
cooks
took
spits
,
and
the
rest
clubs
of
firewood
.
A
circling
movement
developed
and
a
chant
.
While
Roger
mimed
the
terror
of
the
pig
,
the
littluns
ran
and
jumped
on
the
outside
of
the
circle
.
Piggy
and
Ralph
,
under
the
threat
of
the
sky
,
found
themselves
eager
to
take
a
place
in
this
demented
but
partly
secure
society
.
They
were
glad
to
touch
the
brown
backs
of
the
fence
that
hemmed
in
the
terror
and
made
it
governable
.
"
_
Kill
the
beast
!
Cut
his
throat
!
Spill
his
blood
!
_
"
The
movement
became
regular
while
the
chant
lost
its
first
superficial
excitement
and
began
to
beat
like
a
steady
pulse
.
Roger
ceased
to
be
a
pig
and
became
a
hunter
,
so
that
the
center
of
the
ring
yawned
emptily
.
Some
of
the
littluns
started
a
ring
on
their
own
;
and
the
complementary
circles
went
round
and
round
as
though
repetition
would
achieve
safety
of
itself
.
There
was
the
throb
and
stamp
of
a
single
organism
.
The
dark
sky
was
shattered
by
a
blue-white
scar
.
An
instant
later
the
noise
was
on
them
like
the
blow
of
a
gigantic
whip
.
The
chant
rose
a
tone
in
agony
.
"
_
Kill
the
beast
!
Cut
his
throat
!
Spill
his
blood
!
_
"
Now
out
of
the
terror
rose
another
desire
,
thick
,
urgent
,
blind
.
"
_
Kill
the
beast
!
Cut
his
throat
!
Spill
his
blood
!
_
"
