Белый клык / White Fang

And so it was the second epitaph in two days.

The next day was a repetition of the days that had gone before. All was silent in the world but[4 - but – (зд.) кроме, за исключением] the cries of their pursuers.

“There, that’ll fix you, fool creatures,” Bill said with satisfaction that night. He tied the dogs, after the Indian method, with sticks. About the neck of each dog was a leather thong. To this he had tied a stick four or five feet[5 - foot (мн. feet) – фут, английская мера длины, равная примерно 30 см] in length. The other end of the stick, in turn, was attached to a stake in the ground.

Henry nodded his head approvingly, “They all will be here in the morning.”

“If one of them disappears, I’ll go without my coffee,” said Bill.

“They just know we have nothing to kill them with,” Henry remarked at bed-time, indicating the circle of eyes that surrounded them. “If we could put a couple of shots into them, they’d be more respectful. They come closer every night,” and then he suddenly whispered: “Look at that, Bill.”

A doglike animal went stealthily in the firelight. Its attention was fixed on the dogs. One Ear strained the full length of the stick toward the intruder.

“That fool One Ear doesn’t seem scared,” Bill said in a low tone.

“It’s a she-wolf. She’s dangerous. She draws out the dog and eats him up.”

“Henry, I’m thinking,” Bill announced, “I’m thinking that is the one I hit with the club.”

“It must be.”

“And I want to remark,” Bill went on, “that that animal’s familiarity with campfires is suspicious and immoral.”

“It knows more than a self-respecting wolf ought to know,” Henry agreed. “A wolf that comes at the dogs’ feeding time has had experience.”

“If I get a chance, that wolf will be just meat. We can’t afford to lose any more animals.”

“But you’ve only got three cartridges,” Henry objected.

“I’ll wait for a dead shot.”

In the morning Henry renewed the fire and cooked breakfast to the accompaniment of his partner’s snoring.

“You were sleeping just so comfortably,” Henry told him, as he called him out for breakfast. “I hadn’t the heart[6 - hadn’t the heart to do smth. – не хватило духу что-л. сделать] to wake you.”

Bill began to eat sleepily. He noticed that his cup was empty, but the pot was beyond his arm’s length and beside Henry.

“You don’t get coffee,” Henry announced.

“Has it run out?”

“Nope.”

“Aren’t you thinking it’ll hurt my digestion?”

“Nope.”

“Then explain yourself,[7 - to explain oneself – объясниться]” Bill said angrily.

“Spanker’s gone.”

Bill slowly turned his head and counted the dogs.

“One Ear, the damned dog! Just because he couldn’t free himself, he freed Spanker.”

“Well, Spanker’s troubles are over anyway; I guess he’s digested by this time,” was Henry’s epitaph on this, the latest lost dog. “Have some coffee, Bill.”

“No. I said I wouldn’t drink it if any dog is missing, and I won’t.”

And he ate a dry breakfast with curses at One Ear for the trick he had played.

“I’ll tie them up out of reach of each other tonight,” Bill said, as they started off again.

They had travelled little more than a hundred yards, when Henry, who was in front, picked up something from the ground.

“Maybe you’ll need that,” he said.

It was all that was left of Spanker – the stick with which he had been tied.

“They ate him all,” Bill announced. “They’re damn hungry, Henry. I’m not feeling special enthusiastic.”

“You’re unwell, that’s what’s the matter with you,” Henry dogmatised. “What you need is quinine.”

Bill disagreed with the diagnosis, and didn’t say anything.

The day was like all the days. It was just after the sun’s attempt to appear, that Bill took the rifle and said:

“You go on, Henry, but I’m going to see what I can see.”

“You’d better go after the sled. You’ve only got three cartridges, and nobody knows what might happen.”

“Who’s croaking now?”[8 - Who’s croaking now? – Расквакался!]

Henry said nothing, and toiled on alone, though often he looked back. An hour later, Bill arrived.

“I’ve seen some of them. They’re very thin. They hadn’t had food for weeks, I think, save the meat of Fatty and Frog and Spanker. They’ll be going mad, yet, and then watch out.”

A few minutes later, Henry, who was now travelling behind the sled, gave a warning whistle. Bill turned and looked, then stopped the dogs. Behind them trotted a furry form. Its nose was to the trail. When they stopped, it stopped, too, and watched them.

“It’s the she-wolf,” Bill said.

The animal trotted forward a few steps, and then, after a pause, a few more steps, and then a few more. It looked at them in a strangely wistful way, like a dog; but there was none of the dog’s affection. It was hungry and cruel.

It was large for a wolf and had a true wolf-coat. The main colour was grey, with a red– dish hue – a hue that appeared and disappeared, like an illusion of the vision, now grey, really grey, and then again showing some redness of colour.

“Looks like a big husky sled-dog,” Bill commented. “Hello, you husky!” he shouted, “Come here, you whatever-your-name-is.”

The animal showed no fear. For it they were meat, and it was hungry; and it would like to go in and eat them.