Белый клык / White Fang. Джек Лондон
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wolves reminded Henry of children gathered around a table and waiting for the permission to begin to eat. And he was the food they were to eat! He wondered how and when the meal would begin.
He grew suddenly fond of his body, of his flesh that worked so fine. Then he looked fearfully at the wolf-circle drawn around him: this wonderful body of his was no more than much meat, to be torn by their hungry fangs, like the moose or the rabbit.
He came out of a doze to see the red-hued she-wolf before him. The two dogs were whimpering and snarling at his feet, but she took no notice of them. She was looking at the man, and for some time he returned her look. There was nothing scary about her. She just looked at him with a great wistfulness of hunger. He was the food, and the sight of him excited her. Her mouth opened, the saliva dropped down in anticipation.
A spasm of fear went through him. He reached for a brand to throw at her, but before his fingers had closed on it, she sprang back into safety. He glanced at the hand that held the brand, and in the same instant he seemed to see a vision of those same fingers being crushed and torn by the white teeth of the she-wolf. Never before had he been so fond of his body.
All night, with burning brands, he fought off the hungry pack. Morning came, but for the first time the light of day did not frighten the wolves. The man waited in vain for them to go. They remained in a circle about him and his fire, showing an arrogance of possession that shook his courage.
He made one desperate attempt to go on the trail. But the moment he left the fire, the boldest wolf leaped for him. He saved himself by springing back, the jaws snapping together six inches from his leg.
The night was a repetition of the night before, save that the need for sleep was too great. The snarling of his dogs was losing its efficacy. Once he suddenly awoke to see the she-wolf was less than a yard[13] from him. Mechanically, without letting go of it, he thrust a brand into her open mouth. She sprang away, yelling with pain.
Before he dozed again, he tied a burning pine-knot to his right hand. His eyes were closed only a few minutes when the flame on his flesh awakened him. Every time he was thus awakened he drove back the wolves with flying brands, checked the fire, and rearranged the pine-knot on his hand. All worked well, but once he tied the pine-knot badly. As his eyes closed it fell away from his hand.
He dreamed. It seemed to him that he was in Fort McGurry. It was warm and comfortable, and he was playing cards with the Factor. Also, it seemed to him that the fort was besieged by wolves. They were howling at the gates, and sometimes he and the Factor paused from the game to listen and laugh at them. And suddenly the door was burst open. He could see the wolves coming into the big living-room. They were leaping straight for him and the Factor. Their howling now followed him everywhere.
And then he awoke to find the howling real. The wolves were all about him and upon him. The teeth of one had closed upon his arm. Instinctively he leaped into the fire, and as he leaped, he felt the sharp teeth that tore through the flesh of his leg. Then there began a fire fight. His mittens temporarily protected his hands, and he threw burning coals into the air in all directions, until the campfire looked like a volcano. But it could not last long. The heat was becoming unbearable to his feet. With a burning brand in each hand, he sprang to the edge of the fire. The wolves had been driven back, and many of them stepped on the fallen coals, crying with pain.
The man thrust his brands at the nearest of his enemies, then thrust his mittens and legs into the snow to cool them. His two dogs were missing, and he well knew that they had served as a course in the meal which had begun days before with Fatty, and the last course of which would likely be himself in the days to follow.
“You haven’t got me yet!” he cried, shaking his fist at the hungry beasts; and at the sound of his voice the whole circle was agitated, and the she-wolf came close to him and watched him with hungry wistfulness.
Henry extended the fire into a large circle and crouched inside it. The whole pack came closer to see what had become of him. They could not cross the fire, and they now settled down in a close-drawn circle, like dogs, blinking and yawning and stretching their lean bodies in the warmth. Then the she-wolf sat down, pointed her nose at a star, and began to howl. One by one the wolves joined her, till the whole pack was howling.
Dawn came, and daylight. The fire was burning low. The fuel had run out, and there was need to get more. The man could not step out of the circle of fire or drive the wolves back. As he gave up and sat inside his circle, a wolf leaped for him, missed, and landed with all four feet in the coals. It cried out with terror, at the same time snarling, and jumped back to cool its paws in the snow.
The man sat down on his blankets. His shoulders relaxed and drooped, his head was on his knees: he had given up the struggle. Now and again he raised his head and watched the fire dying. The circle of flame and coals was breaking into segments with openings in between.
“I guess you can come and get me any time,” he said. “Anyway, I’m going to sleep.”
Once he awakened, and in an opening in the circle, he saw the she-wolf gazing at him.
Again he awakened, a little later, though it seemed hours to him. A mysterious change had taken place. He could not understand at first. Then he discovered it. The wolves were gone. Only the traces on the snow showed how closely they had come.
There were cries of men and sounds of sleds and harnesses, and the whimpering of dogs. Four sleds with half a dozen men approached the man who crouched in the centre of the dying fire. They were shaking him into consciousness. He looked at them like a drunken man and said sleepily:
“Red she-wolf… Come in with the dogs at feeding time… First she ate the dog-food… Then she ate the dogs… And after that she ate Bill…”
“Where’s Lord Alfred?” one of the men shouted in his ear, shaking him roughly.
He shook his head slowly. “No, she didn’t eat him… He’s in a tree at the last camp.”
“Dead?”
“And in a box,” Henry jerked his shoulder away from the grip of his questioner. “Leave alone… Good night, everybody.”
His eyes closed. And even as they put him down upon the blankets his snores sounded in the frosty air.
But there was another sound: a far and faint cry of the hungry wolf-pack as it took the trail of other meat.
Part II
Chapter I. The Battle of the Fangs
It was the she-wolf who had first caught the sound of men’s voices and the whining of the sled-dogs; and it was the she-wolf who was first to spring away from the man in his circle of dying fire. The pack followed her.
A large grey wolf – one of the pack’s several leaders – directed the wolves’ course on the heels[14] of the she-wolf. She went near him, as though it were her appointed position. He did not snarl at her, nor show his teeth, although he snarled at the younger wolves. On the contrary, when he ran too near it was she who snarled and showed her teeth. She could even slash his shoulder sharply on occasion. He showed no anger.
On the other side of the she-wolf ran an old wolf, marked with the scars of many battles. He ran always on her right side – perhaps because he had only one eye, and that was the left eye. Sometimes he and the grey wolf on the left showed their teeth and snarled across at each other. They might have fought, but now they were too hungry.
Also there was a young three-year-old that ran on the right side of the one-eyed wolf. When he dared to run abreast, a snarl sent him back. Sometimes he even edged in between the old leader and the she-wolf, but was stopped by three sets of savage teeth (the leader’s, the one-eyed wolf’s, and the she-wolf’s).
The situation of the pack was desperate. It was lean with hunger. It ran slower than usual. The weak members, the very young and the very old, ran behind. At the front were the strongest. Yet all were more like skeletons than wolves.
They ran night and day, over the surface of the frozen and dead world. They alone were alive there,
a yard – ярд
on sb.’s heels – следом за кем-л.