Поклик предків
For the Love of a Man
Thecrowdwaswatchingcuriously. Theaffairwasgrowingmysterious.Itseemedlikeaconjuration. AsThorntongottohisfeet,Buckseizedhismittenedhandbetweenhisjaws,pressinginwithhisteethandreleasingslowly,half-reluctantly. Itwastheanswer,interms,notofspeech,butoflove. Thorntonsteppedwellback.
"Now,Buck,"hesaid.
Bucktightenedthetraces,thenslackedthemforamatterofseveralinches. Itwasthewayhehadlearned.
"Gee!"Thornton’svoicerangout,sharpinthetensesilence.
Buckswungtotheright,endingthemovementinaplungethattookuptheslackandwithasuddenjerkarrestedhisonehundredandfiftypounds. Theloadquivered,andfromundertherunnersaroseacrispcrackling.
"Haw!"Thorntoncommanded.
Buckduplicatedthemanoeuvre,thistimetotheleft. Thecracklingturnedintoasnapping,thesledpivotingandtherunnersslippingandgratingseveralinchestotheside. Thesledwasbrokenout. Menwereholdingtheirbreaths,intenselyunconsciousofthefact.
"Now,MUSH!"
Thornton’scommandcrackedoutlikeapistol-shot. Buckthrewhimselfforward,tighteningthetraceswithajarringlunge. Hiswholebodywasgatheredcompactlytogetherinthetremendouseffort,themuscleswrithingandknottinglikelivethingsunderthesilkyfur. Hisgreatchestwaslowtotheground,hisheadforwardanddown,whilehisfeetwereflyinglikemad,theclawsscarringthehard-packedsnowinparallelgrooves.
