Білий ікол
The Hunger Cry
Halfadozenmenwereaboutthemanwhocrouchedinthecentreofthedyingfire. Theywereshakingandproddinghimintoconsciousness. Helookedatthemlikeadrunkenmanandmaunderedinstrange,sleepyspeech.
"Redshe-wolf....Comeinwiththedogsatfeedin’time....Firstsheatethedog-food....Thensheatethedogs....An’afterthatsheateBill...."
"Where’sLordAlfred?"oneofthemenbellowedinhisear,shakinghimroughly.
Heshookhisheadslowly. "No,shedidn’teathim....He’sroostin’inatreeatthelastcamp."
"Dead?"themanshouted.
"An’inabox,"Henryanswered. Hejerkedhisshoulderpetulantlyawayfromthegripofhisquestioner. "Say,youlemmealone....I’mjes’plumptuckeredout....Goo’night,everybody."
Hiseyesflutteredandwentshut.Hischinfellforwardonhischest. Andevenastheyeasedhimdownupontheblanketshissnoreswererisingonthefrostyair.
Buttherewasanothersound. Farandfaintitwas,intheremotedistance,thecryofthehungrywolf-pack asittookthetrailofothermeatthanthemanithadjustmissed.
