Jack
London. To Build a Fire (in English, adapted)
1.
trail -тропа
2.
cover —
покрывать
3.
expected
to reach
— ожидал, что достигнет
4.
to
freeze—
замерзать
5.
frozen
stream—
замерзший ручей
6.
snow-coveredice —
покрытый снегом лед
7.
underground
springs
— подземные источники
8.
to
break through
— провалиться
9.
sharp
pain
— острая боль
10.
wet — мокрый
11.
dry — сухой
12.
to
dry
— высушить
13.
branches — ветки
14.
matches — спички
15.
flame — пламя
16.
heavy
load
— тяжелый груз
17.
tremendous
cold
— страшный холод
18.
the
fear of death
— страхсмерти
The
man walked down the trail on a cold, gray day. Pure white snow and ice covered
the Earth for as far as he could see. This was his first winter in Alaska. He
was wearing heavy clothes and fur boots. But he still felt cold and
uncomfortable.
The man
was on his way to a camp near Henderson Creek (ручейГендерсона). His friends
were already there. He expected to reach Henderson Creek by six o’clock
that evening. It would be dark by then. His friends would have a fire and hot
food ready for him.
A
dog walked behind the man. It was a big gray animal, half dog and half wolf.
The dog did not like the extreme cold. It knew the weather was too cold to
travel.
The
man continued to walk down the trail. He came to a frozen stream
called Indian Creek. He began to walk on the snow-covered ice. It was a
trail that would lead him straight to Henderson Creek and his friends.
As
he walked, he looked carefully at the ice in front of him. Once, he
stopped suddenly, and then walked around a part of the frozen stream. He
saw that an underground spring flowed under the ice at that spot.
It made the ice thin. If he stepped there, he might break through
the ice into a pool of water. To get his boots wet in such cold weather
might kill him. His feet would turn to ice quickly. He could freeze to
death.
At
about twelve o’clock, the man decided to stop to eat his lunch. He took off the
glove on his right hand. He opened his jacket and shirt, and pulled out his
bread and meat. This took less than twenty seconds. Yet, his fingers began to freeze.
He
hit his hand against his leg several times until he felt a sharp pain.
Then he quickly put his glove on his hand. He made a fire, beginning with small
pieces of wood and adding larger ones. He sat on a snow-covered log and
ate his lunch. He enjoyed the warm fire for a few minutes. Then he stood up and
started walking on the frozen stream again.
A
half hour later, it happened. At a place where the snow seemed very solid, the
ice broke. The man’s feet sank into the water. It was not deep, but his
legs got wet to the knees. The man was angry. The accident would delay
his arrival at the camp. He would have to build a fire now to dry his
clothes and boots.
He
walked over to some small trees. They were covered with snow. In their branches
were pieces of dry grass and wood left by flood waters earlier in the year. He
put several large pieces of wood on the snow, under one of the trees. On top of
the wood, he put some grass and dry branches. He pulled off his gloves,
took out his matches, and lighted the fire. He fed the young flame
with more wood. As the fire grew ber, he gave it larger pieces of wood.
He
worked slowly and carefully. At sixty degrees below zero, a man with wet
feet must not fail in his first attempt to build a fire. While he was
walking, his blood had kept all parts of his body warm. Now that he had
stopped, cold was forcing his blood to withdraw deeper into his body. His wet
feet had frozen. He could not feel his fingers. His nose was frozen,
too. The skin all over his body felt cold.
Now,
however, his fire was beginning to burn more bly. He was safe. He sat under the
tree and thought of the old men in Fairbanks.
The
old men had told him that no man should travel alone in the Yukon when
the temperature is sixty degrees below zero.
Yet
here he was. He had had an accident. He was alone. And he had saved himself. He
had built a fire.
Those
old men were weak, he thought. A real man could travel alone. If a man
stayed calm, he would be all right. The man’s boots were covered with ice.
The strings on his boots were as hard as steel. He would have to cut them with
his knife.
He
leaned back against the tree to take out his knife. Suddenly, without warning,
a heavy mass of snow dropped down. His movement had shaken the young
tree only a tiny bit. But it was enough to cause the branches of the
tree to drop their heavy load. The man was shocked. He sat and looked at
the place where the fire had been.
The
old men had been right, he thought. If he had another man with him, he would
not be in any danger now. The other man could build the fire. Well, it was up
to him to build the fire again. This time, he must not fail.
The
man collected more wood. He reached into his pocket for the matches. But
his fingers were frozen. He could not hold them. He began to hit his
hands with all his force against his legs.
After
a while, feeling came back to his fingers. The man reached again into his
pocket for the matches. But the tremendous cold quickly drove the
life out of his fingers. All the matches fell onto the snow. He tried to
pick one up, but failed.
The
man pulled on his glove and again beat his hand against his leg. Then he took
the gloves off both hands and picked up all the matches. He gathered them
together. Holding them with both hands, he scratched the matches along
his leg. They immediately caught fire.
He
held the blazing matches to a piece of wood. After a while, he became
aware that he could smell his hands burning. Then he began to feel the pain.
He opened his hands, and the blazing matches fell on to the snow. The
flame went out in a puff of gray smoke.
The
man looked up. The dog was still watching him. The man got an idea. He would
kill the dog and bury his hands inside its warm body. When the feeling came
back to his fingers, he could build another fire. He called to the dog. The dog
heard danger in the man’s voice. It backed away.
The
man called again. This time the dog came closer. The man reached for his
knife. But he had forgotten that he could not bend his fingers. He could not
kill the dog, because he could not hold his knife.
The
fear of death
came over the man. He jumped up and began to run. The running began to make him
feel better. Maybe running would make his feet warm. If he ran far enough, he
would reach his friends at Henderson Creek. They would take care of him.
It
felt strange to run and not feel his feet when they hit the ground. He fell
several times. He decided to rest a while. As he lay in the snow, he noticed
that he was not shaking. He could not feel his nose or fingers or feet. Yet, he
was feeling quite warm and comfortable. He realized he was going to die.
Well,
he decided, he might as well take it like a man. There were worse ways to die.
The
man closed his eyes and floated into the most comfortable sleep he had ever
known.
The
dog sat facing him, waiting. Finally, the dog moved closer to the man and
caught the smell of death. The animal threw back its head. It let out a long,
soft cry to the cold stars in the black sky.
And
then it turned and ran toward Henderson Creek…where it knew there was food and
a fire.
Оставьте свой комментарий
Авторизуйтесь, чтобы задавать вопросы.