Поклик предків
The Toil of Trace and Trail
Aftertwoefforts,theystoodstill,panting. Thewhipwaswhistlingsavagely,whenoncemoreMercedesinterfered. ShedroppedonherkneesbeforeBuck,withtearsinhereyes,andputherarmsaroundhisneck.
"Youpoor,poordears,"shecriedsympathetically,"whydon’tyoupullhard?—thenyouwouldn’tbewhipped." Buckdidnotlikeher,buthewasfeelingtoomiserabletoresisther,takingitaspartoftheday’smiserablework.
Oneoftheonlookers,whohadbeenclenchinghisteethtosuppresshotspeech,nowspokeup:—
"It’snotthatIcareawhoopwhatbecomesofyou,butforthedogs’sakesIjustwanttotellyou,youcanhelpthemamightylotbybreakingoutthatsled.Therunnersarefrozefast. Throwyourweightagainstthegee-pole,rightandleft,andbreakitout."
Athirdtimetheattemptwasmade,butthistime,followingtheadvice,Halbrokeouttherunnerswhichhadbeenfrozentothesnow. Theoverloadedandunwieldysledforgedahead,Buckandhismatesstrugglingfranticallyundertherainofblows. Ahundredyardsaheadthepathturnedandslopedsteeplyintothemainstreet. Itwouldhaverequiredanexperiencedmantokeepthetop-heavysledupright,andHalwasnotsuchaman. Astheyswungontheturnthesledwentover,spillinghalfitsloadthroughthelooselashings. Thedogsneverstopped. Thelightenedsledboundedonitssidebehindthem. Theywereangrybecauseoftheilltreatmenttheyhadreceivedandtheunjustload. Buckwasraging.
