Білий ікол
The Trail of the Meat
"Henry,"Billwenton. "Iwon’tsaytheywasalldogs,buttherewassevenof‘mthatgotfish."
Henrystoppedeatingtoglanceacrossthefireandcountthedogs.
"There’sonlysixnow,"hesaid.
"Isawtheotheronerunoffacrossthesnow,"Billannouncedwithcoolpositiveness. "Isawseven."
Henrylookedathimcommiseratingly,andsaid, "I’llbealmightygladwhenthistrip’sover."
"Whatd’yemeanbythat?"Billdemanded.
"Imeanthatthisloadofournisgettin’onyournerves,an’thatyou’rebeginnin’toseethings."
"Ithoughtofthat,"Billansweredgravely. "An’so,whenIsawitrunoffacrossthesnow,Ilookedinthesnowan’sawitstracks. ThenIcountedthedogsan’therewasstillsixof’em. Thetracksisthereinthesnownow. D’yewanttolookat’em? I’llshow’emtoyou."
Henrydidnotreply,butmunchedoninsilence,until,themealfinished,hetoppeditwithafinalcupofcoffee. Hewipedhismouthwiththebackofhishandandsaid:
"Thenyou’rethinkin’asitwas—"
Alongwailingcry,fiercelysad,fromsomewhereinthedarkness,hadinterruptedhim. Hestoppedtolistentoit,thenhefinishedhissentencewithawaveofhishandtowardthesoundofthecry, "—oneofthem?"
