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A Book of Nimble Beasts
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The Mole Plunged into the Air
The outworks broke and crumbled like a biscuit. His nose attained the citadel itself, but here the assault was checked. Strain as he would he could not get fair tooth-hold, for, working upwards in cramped quarters, he spent his strength in struggling for a purchase.
Only exhaustion stays the hunting mole, and such exhaustion ends in death. This mole was not exhausted yet.
He screwed his nose unceasingly, forced his teeth forward line by line, and ground the bark to powder; snatched out his head for air, and thrust his hand in place of it; snatched back his hand and used his jaws once more. Harder and harder still he worked, closer and closer still he drew, until one claw touched fur.
It was a graze, a skin scrape; the fur shrank out of reach, but the mere contact goaded him to frenzy.
He squirmed and writhed and strained until, by muscle strength alone, he forced his head and shoulders through the gap. His nose now touched his quarry, his hands were squared beneath his chin, palms back, and thus, in earth, he might have tunnelled far. But the stiff shell of bark was obdurate.
The white owl helped him out. She caught him at the bottom of her swoop, and loosed him high up on the elm-tree. Here the white owlets welcomed him.
Before she turned, the Pygmy had reached home.
The outworks broke and crumbled like a biscuit. His nose attained the citadel itself, but here the assault was checked. Strain as he would he could not get fair tooth-hold, for, working upwards in cramped quarters, he spent his strength in struggling for a purchase.
Only exhaustion stays the hunting mole, and such exhaustion ends in death. This mole was not exhausted yet.
He screwed his nose unceasingly, forced his teeth forward line by line, and ground the bark to powder; snatched out his head for air, and thrust his hand in place of it; snatched back his hand and used his jaws once more. Harder and harder still he worked, closer and closer still he drew, until one claw touched fur.
It was a graze, a skin scrape; the fur shrank out of reach, but the mere contact goaded him to frenzy.
He squirmed and writhed and strained until, by muscle strength alone, he forced his head and shoulders through the gap. His nose now touched his quarry, his hands were squared beneath his chin, palms back, and thus, in earth, he might have tunnelled far. But the stiff shell of bark was obdurate.
The white owl helped him out. She caught him at the bottom of her swoop, and loosed him high up on the elm-tree. Here the white owlets welcomed him.
Before she turned, the Pygmy had reached home.
Другие электронные книги автора Douglas English
Последний отзыв
Отличные тесты, использую р работе как тренер спортивной школы.