Поклик предків
The Toil of Trace and Trail
Partridgesandwoodpeckerswereboomingandknockingintheforest. Squirrelswerechattering,birdssinging,andoverheadhonkedthewild-fowldrivingupfromthesouthincunningwedgesthatsplittheair.
Fromeveryhillslopecamethetrickleofrunningwater,themusicofunseenfountains. Allthingswerethawing,bending,snapping. TheYukonwasstrainingtobreakloosetheicethatbounditdown. Itateawayfrombeneath;thesunatefromabove. Air-holesformed,fissuressprangandspreadapart,whilethinsectionsoficefellthroughbodilyintotheriver. Andamidallthisbursting,rending,throbbingofawakeninglife,undertheblazingsunandthroughthesoft-sighingbreezes,likewayfarerstodeath,staggeredthetwomen,thewoman,andthehuskies.
Withthedogsfalling,Mercedesweepingandriding,Halswearinginnocuously,andCharles’seyeswistfullywatering, theystaggeredintoJohnThornton’scampatthemouthofWhiteRiver. Whentheyhalted,thedogsdroppeddownasthoughtheyhadallbeenstruckdead. MercedesdriedhereyesandlookedatJohnThornton. Charlessatdownonalogtorest. Hesatdownveryslowlyandpainstakinglywhatofhisgreatstiffness. Haldidthetalking. JohnThorntonwaswhittlingthelasttouchesonanaxe-handlehehadmadefromastickofbirch. Hewhittledandlistened,gavemonosyllabicreplies,and,whenitwasasked,terseadvice. Heknewthebreed,andhegavehisadviceinthecertaintythatitwouldnotbefollowed.
